For Everly

by Raine Thomas

  He pulled on a pair of gray cotton shorts, not bothering with a shirt so he didn’t have to lift his arm to put it on. Then he headed to the kitchen for a much-needed hit of caffeine.

  He was damned tired of this. Even though he’d been trying to rest his arm like Wyatt told him, the pain wasn’t getting any better. He’d stopped going out with his friends in the evenings, not wanting to risk further injury or provoke questions if he winced in pain. He’d even asked his personal trainer to take a hiatus from their sessions, offering a lie up for an excuse.

  But none of that helped right now.

  Pouring himself some coffee and topping it with a healthy dose of creamer, he took his Bat Man mug and stepped up to the large sliding glass doors overlooking the perfectly-landscaped backyard. A fresh coat of snow sparkled on the trees, shrubs, and lawn. It was a rare sight in the city of Atlanta. He realized the sun was starting to lighten the sky.

  Seven A-frickin’-M and he was awake. This was so messed up.

  When sunlight dappled the back terrace in shades of gold and red, he thought of Everly. Her hair first, since the color of it was as bold as the gathering sunrise. Then just her.

  He’d never met anyone quite like her. Of course, he didn’t typically date or hang around with brainy types. There had been a couple of women he dated who wore glasses and conservative clothes to achieve a sort of “sexy nerd” look, but he didn’t count them as brainy. They wouldn’t have passed for nerds even with scientific calculators in their hands once they opened their mouths to speak.

  Everly, however, had surely been a nerd in high school. Taking college courses before the age of eighteen? Spending her late teens and early twenties bogged down in school and volunteer work? No social life to speak of? It all shouted Nerd Alert.

  Why was that so hot?

  He contemplated that question as he finished his cup of coffee and went in search of more. As he passed the kitchen island, he spotted the piece of paper Wyatt had given him the night before. Then he glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty.

  Well, he was up. May as well not be the only one.

  He removed his phone from its base near the coffee pot and dialed the number Wyatt had jotted on the paper. A sudden bout of nerves had him wanting to slam the phone down after the second ring. He had no idea why.

  “Hello?”

  She didn’t sound sleepy, he realized. “Oh…hi. Is this Everly?” he asked. Then he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. He recognized her voice and he’d called her cell phone. Who the hell else would it be?

  “Who is this?”

  Great. She probably thought he was some creepy stalker. He was such a dumbass.

  “It’s Cole. Parker. Sorry to call so early on a Saturday. Or any day.”

  What the hell was wrong with him? He scowled and poured more coffee into his mug. He probably needed more caffeine.

  No, not probably. Definitely. Stat.

  She didn’t reply for at least thirty seconds. Then she asked, “How did you get this number?”

  Did she always have this layer of caution when interacting with people? He felt like he was under a heat lamp in a small interrogation room. If he’d had a collar, he would have tugged at it.

  “Um, from Wyatt. He had it, so…you know.”

  Dumbass.

  “Oh.” Another pause. “Well, what can I do for you?”

  Something about her choice of words and her sultry, southern tone had his gut clenching. He had to clear his throat before responding.

  “I, uh, wanted to see if you could meet with me today to get started on my rehab.”

  “But we agreed to start next week.”

  “I know, but I want to start sooner.”

  “Cole, I’ve got a million chores to do today.”

  “Chores?”

  “Yes, chores. I have to go grocery shopping—which means digging my car out of the snow—then clean the house, fix the leak under the bathroom sink, do the laundry…stuff like that. Chores.”

  He pictured Everly out in the cold with a snow shovel. He looked around his house and thought of the housekeeper and groundskeeper he paid to keep up with such things. Frowning, he fought off his discomfort. It wasn’t his fault he had a lot of money, was it?

  “Can’t you do those things tomorrow?”

  “I have to study tomorrow. My Neuro finals are going to be the death of me.”

  “Neuro? Doesn’t that involve the brain? What does that have to do with physical therapy?”

  She didn’t respond for a moment. Then she drawled, “Do you really want to know?”

  That made him laugh. “Okay, no. Listen, I’m not asking for your entire day. You have to eat sometime, right? Why don’t we have lunch and you can walk me through what lies ahead. Maybe there’s something I can do now to get started.”

  “Cole, a few more days won’t—”

  “Please, Everly.” He took a deep breath to calm the ever-present fear threatening him. Fear he might never pitch again. “I have to do something. This pain is pissing me off.”

  She hesitated. “Well…”

  “It’s either you, or I’m heading for the bottle of scotch.”

  Another pause, then a sigh. “What time do you want to meet?”

  He did a victory fist pump, only belatedly remembering that he held a mug of hot coffee in his hand. It splashed onto his arm, abdomen, and the floor. A string of curses resulted as he set the mug down and hurried to the sink to run cold water over his skin.

  “Are you okay?”

  He flushed as Everly’s voice filled his ear. He’d forgotten he was on the phone.

  Yeah, he was the King of Dumbasses.

  “Yeah. Just a small coffee mishap. Don’t mind me. Probably just second degree burns.”

  “Ah. Aloe helps.”

  “Doubt I have anything resembling aloe around here.”

  “That’s too bad. I’ve found chocolate chip cookies help in a pinch.”

  He snorted out a laugh as he dried himself with a hand towel. “Is that official medical advice?”

  “Well, I’m only a student. But field studies have generated convincing proof.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. So, as to lunch…how about noon?”

  “I can make that work.”

  “Do you want me to come by you?”

  “No,” she said a little too quickly. “I can meet you somewhere.”

  She didn’t want him coming to her house. Interesting. Yet another layer to the enigmatic Everly Wallace.

  “All right. Where will you be driving from?”

  “Not far from the stadium.”

  “Easy enough, then. I know the perfect place. It’s about halfway for both of us.” He rattled off the address as he wiped up the spilled coffee from the floor.

  “Okay,” she said. “This is a business lunch, so we’re going Dutch.”

  Walking back to the sink to rinse the dishrag, he shrugged with his left shoulder. “Sure.”

  “See you at noon.”

  The line went dead in his ear. He dried his hands, hung up the phone, and returned it to its base. Then he just stood there as he replayed the conversation in his head. God, what a disaster.

  He’d never had trouble holding his own in a conversation with a woman. Everly had to think he was a total spaz. His forearm stung where he’d burned himself.

  Fist pump? Really?

  Dumbass.

  Remembering her comments, he found himself grinning. Then he walked to the pantry and dug out some Chips Ahoy.

  Doctor’s orders, he thought, and bit into his medicinal breakfast.

  Chapter 8

  OhGodOhGodOhGod…

  The two words repeated on fast forward in Everly’s mind as she hung up with Cole. She leaped from her bed and dashed down the hall to the house’s only bathroom. Seeing the light on beneath the door and hearing the shower running, she muttered to herself and ran back to her bedroom.

  Then she stood there and looked around as she tried to r
emember what she was doing.

  Oh, yeah. Chores.

  Followed by lunch with Cole Parker.

  OhGodOhGodOhGod…

  She zipped to her dresser and yanked out the first warm clothes she could find. Then she changed out of her pajamas and into the clothes. Her socks didn’t match. It was a testament to her frazzled state of mind that she wore them anyway.

  When she caught herself jogging down the hall to the coat closet, she forced herself to calm down. Rushing through shoveling the drive was likely to end up with her breaking or straining something by slipping on the ice. She bundled up in her winter coat and boots, shoving a knit hat on her unbrushed hair and wrapping most of her face and her ears with a fleece scarf. After donning her gloves and a pair of sunglasses, she opened the front door and headed to the shed.

  The unusually frigid air filled her nostrils through the scarf. She found it brisk and bracing, but knew she’d be cursing it before she finally returned to the warmth of the house. Careful to avoid patches of ice, she reached the barn-like building in one corner of the backyard. The snow shovel dangled from a nail hook she’d created.

  She carried the shovel to the driveway. Only a few inches of snow, she realized. Certainly more than the city was used to this time of year, but not too bad. It almost didn’t need shoveling.

  Why was Cole insisting on lunch? The question ran through her mind as she shoveled. Was it really because he was in so much pain? If so, why did he want to meet in a public location? Wasn’t he worried people would overhear them talking?

  Of course, she’d basically said she didn’t have time for him. Having lunch together was an option that put time constraints on their meeting, which meant he couldn’t monopolize her day. She was grateful for that.

  Right?

  “Hey, Evs!”

  She looked up at the sound of the youthful voice and spotted one of the neighborhood kids, Rayshawn, standing at the end of her driveway. His slim ten-year-old body looked twice its normal size with all of the gear he wore. All she saw above his colorful scarf was his dark brown eyes, which crinkled at the corners. He had braced himself on the handle of a shovel that was as long as he was. She saw it was a garden shovel and coughed on a laugh.

  “Mornin’, Ray,” she said with a smile, slipping into the more casual speech she used with the kids. “You out helpin’ your ma?”

  “Yeah. Just finished our drive. Need help?”

  “Wouldn’t turn it down.”

  As they worked on the drive, she asked him about school and his little sister, Jayden. Ray’s mother worked two jobs to make ends meet, so Ray was often responsible for caring for his six-year-old sibling. He did it without complaint, though. Everly felt a strong kinship to him.

  Together, they cleared the driveway and the sidewalk within twenty minutes. Then they helped Mr. Duffy two doors down, since he was outside, too. Giving Ray a high five as they finished, Everly turned to walk back to the shed.

  “You wanna come in for a few?” she asked.

  “Naw. Jayden’s watchin’ cartoons. Gonna sit wit’ her.”

  “All right, little man. Next chance you get, cookies are on me.”

  “Fo’ sho’.”

  She waved as he headed home, then she walked to the garage and put the shovel away. While she was there, she grabbed a couple of wrenches, some plumber’s putty, and plumber’s tape.

  It took her a couple of hours to fix the leaky pipe under the sink and get the house clean. She managed to fit in a couple of loads of laundry, as well, before she had to get ready for lunch. She only thought about Cole about fifteen times all morning.

  Okay, fifteen times per hour. Give or take.

  It took a while for her to decide what to wear. She wanted to look professional—it was a business meeting, after all—but she also wanted to look attractive. This was Cole Parker, for heaven’s sake.

  Just a business meeting, she told her racing heart. Then she set out her most flattering pair of jeans, a thin, soft turquoise sweater with three-quarter cut sleeves, and a tailored navy suit jacket. She’d dress it up with heeled boots, colorful jewelry, and the coordinating turquoise purse she’d picked up at Marshall’s last year on Black Friday.

  Decision made, she hit the shower. As she weighed her limited choices among her scented body washes, she pondered what she and Cole would discuss during their meal. It wasn’t as though she could conduct a physical assessment of his shoulder in a restaurant. She wasn’t sure he should start any exercises at home without her around to monitor him. Not yet, anyway. The suggestion that he rest his arm surely wouldn’t go over well. He struck her as an active person.

  She fretted all through the shower and blowing her hair dry. She fretted more while getting dressed and doing her makeup. She couldn’t decide whether to wear her hair up or down, and ultimately settled on something in-between, using a silver and turquoise clip to pull her hair back at the temples and leaving the rest down. Then she couldn’t decide how much makeup to wear. Too little and she risked looking like she hadn’t even tried. Too much and she’d resemble a regular on the Metropolitan Parkway ‘ho stroll.

  And dear heaven—was that a pimple?

  By the time she walked out to the family room to tell her grandpa goodbye, she was a heap of nerves. She prayed her antiperspirant worked as well as advertised. If this kept up, she’d break a nervous sweat somewhere between here and the restaurant.

  Her grandpa looked up from his recliner when she entered the room. A smile spread across his face. “Well, don’t you make a pretty picture?” he said. “That boy won’t know what hit ‘im.”

  “Pee Paw,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to hit him. This is just business.”

  “So you’ve said ‘bout twenty times today. Did you even eat breakfast?”

  The question made her pause. She realized she had been so busy trying not to think about Cole and getting through her chores that she hadn’t remembered to eat anything. That probably wasn’t helping her low-level headache.

  “You know, I didn’t. Guess it’s a good thing I’m going to this business lunch.” She smiled when he chuckled and then she bent down to kiss his cheek. “Now wish me luck.”

  “Lookin’ ‘n smellin’ as nice as you do, you won’t need luck,” he said. “But I wish it to you anyway. You know where you’re goin’?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve got my cell and I plugged the address into Google Maps. It’s not even ten miles from here.”

  “All right, then. Have fun and be safe.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be home soon.”

  Thirty minutes later, she finally arrived at the restaurant. Between traffic and the unfamiliar area of town, it took her longer than she expected to get there. She thought she had given herself extra time, but she was still five minutes late. When she pulled up, she found herself at a valet stand. Rolling down her window, she flagged the valet who eyed her car as though it had just broken down at his feet. He approached with notable reluctance.

  Waving at the twenty-dollar valet fee posted on a nearby folding sign, she asked, “Is there self-parking?”

  “No, ma’am,” he replied stiffly.

  She swallowed and nodded, getting out of her car so he could park it. She only had twenty dollars in cash, and she had intended to pay for her lunch with it. She knew the bank account was low until she got paid again on Friday, but she’d have to risk debiting her meal. Why hadn’t she thought to set some parameters when Cole suggested the restaurant?

  Her headache ballooned as she hurried through the front door of the restaurant and looked around without spotting Cole. Frowning, she approached the maître d.

  “Miss Wallace?” he greeted her.

  Surprised, she nodded.

  “Welcome. Mr. Parker is waiting at your table. It would be my pleasure to escort you there. May I take your coat?”

  Damn. She probably couldn’t even afford the free bread at this place.

  Giving the maître d a wan smile, she
shrugged out of her coat, putting her gloves in the pockets and wrapping her scarf around one of her purse straps. She was sure she was imagining it, but she swore the maître d held her Target-brand garment a few inches away from his body as he turned to hand it off to whoever guarded the coat room.

  Shifting uncomfortably when he gave her a quick once-over and lingered disapprovingly on her jeans, she took a deep breath and followed him into the dining room. There wasn’t anything she could do about how she was dressed, was there?

  Lord, what a hot mess this was.

  As she spotted Cole across the dining room at a table with a beautiful view of the outside terrace, another thought occurred to her. How should she greet him? Should she shake his hand since this was a business meeting? Go in for the awkward hug since she was good friends with his brother?

  Bow because he looked like a god in his simple black V-neck sweater and gray pants?

  She caught his gaze when she was still about ten feet from the table. A variety of expressions crossed his features, so many that she couldn’t read them all. She definitely caught irritation, though, and was puzzled when he ended up smiling.

  OhGodOhGodOhGod…

  He stood up. The maître d deposited her with a slight bow, so she ruled out that form of greeting. Then it was just her and Cole.

  “Hello, Everly,” he said, his voice as smooth as a buttered biscuit.

  “Hi.”

  Had that been her voice that came out all breathy? She prayed it hadn’t sounded as ridiculous as she thought.

  She started to lift her right hand for a shake, then realized he was tilting in for the awkward hug. To avoid hitting him in the crotch, she adjusted her trajectory. He smoothly used his left hand to continue her forward motion so that her hand ended up encircling his neck.

  Then before she knew what was happening, her lips were pressed against his.

  Chapter 9

  Sweet baby Jesus. She was kissing Cole Parker.

  Only after a second or two did she realize that he had stiffened. His lips were frozen against hers. Horror swept through her.

  He hadn’t intended to kiss her!