His chin moved against her temple with his nod. “Oh, honey.”
She expected the lecture to begin, the condemnation, the accusation, but he just held her as she cried.
Minutes ticked by filled with snuffles and sobs. She clung to Christian, accepting every ounce of strength he willingly offered. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. When she pulled away, he smiled at her.
“Feel better?”
She nodded and snorted a soggy giggle. “Sorry.”
He tugged her into his arms again, rubbing her back. “It’s what I’m here for.” He kissed her temple. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, feeling so much better. “Thanks.”
Another sniff. She reached toward the counter to tug a tissue from the box and wiped her nose. Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scrutinizing her every move.
“So … you wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
His jaw twitched. “Did he hurt you?”
She felt her eyes bug out of her head. “No!”
His face registered a whole lot of uh-huh, yeah. He stalked her until he’d gotten up close and personal. “Frank. Don’t screw with me.” His huge hands cupped her cheeks, his eyes intense. He towered over her, his protective scowl soothing her. She both loved and hated when he got like this. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
She laughed, tried to shake her head, but his tight grip prevented any motion. “No, you do not need to kick his ass.”
“Then why are you cryin’ over him?” He released his hold and stepped back. The taut muscles into his jaw jumped. He tried to suffuse some calm, relaxed, totally-in-control in his expression. And failed.
“I’m just worried about him. That’s all.”
He cocked his head to the side and smirked.
She put her hands on her hips. “His physical well-being. Nothing more.”
He shrugged and laughed, the deep rumble diffusing the tension. “You go right on lying to both of us then.”
“I’m not—”
His hand shot up. “No offense, Frank, but talking about your boyfriend—”
“He’s not—”
“—isn’t my idea of a good time.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and we’ll go catch a movie.”
“I can’t. I have to get over to Xavier’s.”
Christian’s blue eyes flashed. His sandy blond dusted head shook. “You seem to choose him over me. If I didn’t know better, I’d get a complex.”
***
Christian was her rock. His calm strength grounded her better than anything else. She hadn’t meant to completely lose it, but wrapped in his arms, held tightly against his chest, feeling protected, the dam broke.
As she walked up to Xavier’s front door, she was glad she’d released some of her worry. Falling apart within Christian’s embrace beat the hell out of doing it in Xavier’s. In fact, a breakdown the likes of what she’d plagued Chris with would probably freak X out and send him running for the hills. Or send him into hysterics while he laughed and pointed.
She knocked and wasn’t surprised when the door didn’t open. Another knock didn’t cause the door to magically swing open either. She bent over and picked up the rock to retrieve the key and slipped it into the lock.
As soon as she opened the door, she cringed. The television screamed at her from the other room. She only barely resisted the need to clamp her hands over her ears. She definitely didn’t want to hear the theme song for SpongeBob SquarePants any louder, but she headed in the direction of the whiney music anyway.
Xavier’s living room epitomized masculinity, decorated in brown leather, electronics up the wazoo, cup holders within the cushions of the recliners, and—Frankie shook her head.—a guy wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, staring dumbly at the television, his back facing the archway where she stood.
“Hello.” When he didn’t acknowledge her presence, she raised her voice. “Hello!” No reaction. “Xavier!” Nothing.
She watched him for a moment, wondering if he could possibly sleep through the blaring noise coming from the television. Then he laughed, and she got good and pissed.
She stomped around to stand in front of the recliner, feet braced apart, hands on hips, prepared for battle.
He stared through her. “Move.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed, tiny wrinkles crinkling in the corners. Menace sparked in his gaze when it flipped up to clash with hers. “I said, move, Doc.” His deep growl rumbled like a growing thunder. She waited for the crash signaling the lightning.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She reached out and snatched the remote control, pointing to toward the TV and turning it off.
A loud pop! accompanied the closure of his recliner and was the only warning she got before his hand seized her wrist. He whirled her around and got right in her face.
“Get out of my way!”
“No.” Miraculously she managed to keep the nervous shake running through her blood out of her voice. “I’m here to hel—”
“I don’t want you here. I don’t need your help.” Breath raced in and out his lungs, his chest expanding and contracting with the puffs. “Get the hell out of my house. Now!”
She wasn’t sure where she got the courage to stand there toe-to-toe with two-hundred pounds of seriously pissed off, but she didn’t feel truly threatened. Maybe she’d lost her mind.
“Matthias, you need me.”
His nostrils flared. His teeth ground together. “I don’t need anybody.” His low, no-nonsense tone didn’t allow for argument.
Not that it stopped her. “Humor me.”
“No.” He jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out.”
“Why don’t you put some clothes on, then we can talk.”
He raised the middle finger on his left hand before slipping it into the waistband of his boxers.
“Don’t you dare.” The words barely crossed her tongue before his boxers hit the floor. He stood in all his exquisite glory, daring her to look her fill. She met his challenge, eye-to-eye, proud she’d been able to keep her eyes focused on his face.
“My house. My rules.” He wiggled his brows. “And I feel like bein’ naked. Don’t like it, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in your perky little ass on the way out.”
“Fine.” She huffed a sigh. A mule had nothing on the stubborn jackass standing in front of her. He’d dug his heels in and there was no reasoning with him. “I’m leaving. But I will be back tomorrow. And we’re going to start working out that shoulder. Naked, if that’s how you choose to do it.”
The journey to her car came and went in a blur. Her hands trembled as she tried to get the key in the ignition. She dropped her head to the steering wheel and focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Heaven help her if he chose to workout naked.
9
“I’m not a chick!”
The flutter-flap combination of the peach resistance band landing like a drunken flamingo negated his pissed off, and Frankie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Xavier had been in a bad mood for the last couple of weeks.
“I assure you, Xavier, nobody thinks you’re a chick.”
“Obviously you do, since you expect me to use that.”
She shook her head. “It’s a resistance band, not a tampon.”
His lips twitched, but his glare hardened. “I don’t do yoga. Or Pilates. So I don’t need a resistance band.” He flexed his left arm, the bicep going all hard and sexy. “I use weights. Free weights, barbells, medicine balls. Ya know, what men use. Those bands are for pussies.”
Change of plans.
She bent over at the waist and retrieved the bane of his existence, holding it out to him. It dangled limply while he stared at it with all the disgust in his two hundred and ten pound body.
“I’ll make you a deal. You take th
is band and do all the exercises I give you, without complaining, and once you’ve done them all, then you can tackle some of your man weights. Okay?”
Matthias Xavier III rivaled an ornery Brahma bull in that moment. X’s hazel eyes narrowed in irritated defiance. His nostrils flared with each puffed breath. His lips pulled tight into a slash. The muscle in his jaw jumped like his teeth had taken up hopscotch. She wondered if he considered running over the top of her and stomping her into the carpet.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t so much as flinch.
Show no fear! Rawr!
She met the rage boiling in his eyes with determination, glaring back her frustration. Check her out! If any man besides Xavier looked at her that way, she’d be quaking in her Skechers. Or putting them to damn good use.
Her chest rose with a deep, resolved sigh and he blinked. Well, not exactly. He dropped his gaze to watch her breasts press against the vibrant blue of her scrubs.
His lip quirked. He shook his head. Amusement shone his eyes when he looked at her. “Well played, Doc.”
She really hadn’t meant to use her ample chest to distract him, but she’d take the win any way she could.
Except the standoff continued.
She pushed the band toward him again. The disgusted look he sported made her double check to see if she hadn’t accidentally picked up a dog turd. Nope.
“Listen, X, you have to work out your shoulder.”
“I will.” He backed away from her. “My way.”
She pulled the band between her hands, enjoyed the stretch of her muscles and the loud snap! announcing its release
“Don’t be such a baby!”
Anger swirled in the room, and his charge came at her full force until his body bumped hers, pushing her into the wall. His left arm slammed into the wall next to her head. He winced as he lifted his right arm and she mocked him with a grin.
His eyes narrowed even further, the hazel becoming a muddy brown. “I am not a baby.”
She’d pushed him as far as he would bend. She’d retreat in order to rally the troops for the battle to be won another day.
His chest heaved and his skin burned her hands. She pushed against his pecs. He didn’t move.
“Xavier,” she soothed, “the band is the best—”
“I’m not—”
Without thought her hand covered his mouth, cutting off yet another protest. His breath warmed her fingers, the puffs like blasts from a hair dryer.
He grunted something against her hand. She shook her head. “No, I’m the doctor. I’m sorry you’re pissed off. I’m real sorry you got injured in the first place. Certain things must be done if you’re going to have a chance of returning to the diamond. That’s the goal, right?”
His beard scratched her fingers as he nodded.
“Okay. We’re on the same page as far as that’s concerned.”
His eyes softened, the animosity fading to annoyance.
“Look, X, your rehab is going to be brutal. You’re going to have to do things you don’t like. It’s going to be uncomfortable, sometimes downright painful. I’m here. Every step of the way. But I want to make it very clear—” She ducked under his arm and hurried over to retrieve the band. “—I won’t tolerate this pissy, childish attitude of yours.”
His glower reappeared in a flash. He stomped away from her, every muscle primed and ready for attack. He turned, anchored his hands on his hips. “I’m not a child.”
This seemed to be a thing with him. Baby. Child. Both words had completely set him off. She wondered what in his history made those so appalling. She watched as he shutdown in front of her very eyes.
With band in hand, she approached him again.
He retreated, eyes wary. “I’m not a child,” he said again.
“I know. I know.” She kept her voice soft and kind, hoping it didn’t sound condescending. This man had been injured by words and she desperately wanted to help him heal. “You’re not a baby, nor are you a child. And you are definitely not a chick.”
He laughed slightly. The tension in his shoulders eased. He snatched the band from the hand at her side. “What do I have to do with this frickin’ thing?”
As Frankie tied the resistance band to the doorknob and showed him the exercises he’d need to do, she couldn’t help but wonder about his reaction. She’d always known Xavier was a powerhouse, both on and off the diamond. His determination to be the best had followed him from his first stint with the Rockets through his entire career. Even now, with gritted teeth, he pushed through the exercises taxing his shoulder.
Well, determination was her middle name. She liked puzzles and Xavier had just presented her a hell of a challenge.
***
Xavier wanted to curse. He was a connoisseur of foul language.
But as Frankie crossed her arms over her chest and watched him tug at the stupid band again, he couldn’t bring himself to cuss. At least, not verbally. His mind, on the other hand, came up with a slew of choice words, all one syllable, all containing four letters and, what do you know, every damned one of them ended with an exclamation point. A big ol’ middle finger to the world.
His shoulder hurt like a bitch. Who’d have thought such an insignificant strip of girlie ass rubber could cause this kinda bone deep ache? Duh! Wasn’t that the damn point?
“That’s enough.” Frankie interceded with the tug and pull, taking hold of the extended plastic. “Let it go slowly.”
He did. Then pulled it again.
“I said that’s enough.” She grabbed onto the band with both hands. “I’m the boss, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
She anticipated his release on the band, and jerked back just in time to miss the snap. When the loud thwack of rubber against wood resonated through the room, he was glad she hadn’t been on the receiving end of that protest. She annoyed him, but he didn’t want to see her hurt. Especially by his idiotic attempts of defiance.
“Sorry.”
An eye roll was all the answer he got. “Would you still like to work with some weights?”
He grinned, feeling the first tingle of happiness since… Well, it’d been a long time. “Yeah.”
“I don’t want you working your arms. Legs only.”
And wasn’t that like a bucket of ice water to his flicker of cheerful.
She laughed lightly. “Don’t look so sad. One step at a time, big guy. How about tomorrow we head down to the gym and work out there?”
Xavier liked the idea with one tiny exception. “The band stays here.”
“X—”
“No. I don’t want to look like a weakling in front of those guys.”
One strand of blond hair fought its boundaries, but she was all over it, tucking it behind her ear. Ruby lips pursed and she shook her head. Deep sigh. Long breath.
“Okay. Fine. The band stays here.” She turned to untie the band from the doorknob. “You hungry?”
“Starved.” He tilted his head and groaned at the pungent scent wafting off him. “But I seriously need to get clean.”
Understanding radiated in her kind eyes and gentle smile. “Do you need help?”
Over the last week, she’d helped him with everything and he’d not entertained a sexual thought during the process. Probably because he was too busy being humiliated by the mother/infant act. But right now, her being a mother or him being a child was definitely not on his mind.
He glanced at her strong, yet delicate hands and envisioned them moving over his skin, spreading soap and seduction in their wake. His body reacted. How could it not? He was a guy for hell’s sake! He dropped his hands to hide which part of him definitely, most insistently wanted her help.
“I’m not hard. I mean, it’s not hard.” He shook his head and felt heat rise in his cheeks at her giggle. “No, thanks. I can handle it.”
Another giggle accompanied her departure, and he did curse then. He let all those words from earlier fly, in living color, right out int
o the middle of his room. Yeah, he could handle taking a shower, it seemed to be his mouth—and his brain—he couldn’t control.
10
Xavier guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Frankie making lunch in his kitchen. She’d made herself at home and, dammit, he kinda liked having her around.
She stood at the counter, slathering mayonnaise onto slices of bread. Her quiet hum revealed her tranquility. The knife banged against the glass of the jar. She pulled the utensil out and looked into the bottle like the sound lied and it was full.
Xavier smiled as she wiped the knife on the edge of the bread, placed it in the sink and wrote mayonnaise on an impromptu list she’d started on a piece of paper attached to the fridge with a magnet.
Feelings rose and warred at that knowledge. He liked having her here, but she wasn’t staying. Eventually she would leave and he…
Well, he didn’t give a shit. The sooner she got her big nose out of his business, the better.
“Hey, big guy. You hungry?”
He hadn’t realized he stared at her. Scowled at her actually. “Yeah.”
“I’ll make a run to the grocery store for you this afternoon.”
He nearly bit his tongue clean off to keep himself from snapping at her again. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, and, deep down, he felt bad for it. She was only trying to help. Because it’s her job.
Shit.
“Xavier.”
His scowl deepened. “What?”
She smiled. “Have a seat.” At his grunt, she motioned to the table. “After we eat, we’ll work on your shoulder again.”
“I’m not using that damned band twice in one day. I think I had to give up a corner on my mancard this morning.”
She laughed. “I promise you’ll enjoy what I have in mind.”
His mind immediately went to sex. Of course. It seemed every damned time she entered his line of sight his libido took notice.
She must have boarded his train of thought because she shook her head, her giggles turned a bit husky. Color seeped into her cheeks.
Out of Left Field Page 7