For Everly

by Raine Thomas

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “All right. Then I’ll be on my way. Rest that arm as much as possible between now and Wednesday. I’ll come prepared to torture you.”

  He smiled. “You’ve got a gentle touch,” he said. “I think I can handle it.”

  “You won’t think so come Wednesday,” she promised.

  Chapter 12

  She was true to her word. For the next couple weeks, Everly supervised Cole’s physical rehab with the finesse of a drill sergeant.

  Working around her finals, graduate assistantship obligations, work at Prix Fixe, and regular chores at home, she went to Cole’s house for several hours almost every day. He mentioned that he’d stopped working with his personal trainer once his arm got bad enough that he couldn’t hide it, so Everly took over monitoring his regular exercise as well. There was no sense in sending him into spring training with a healthy arm and out-of-shape physique.

  Despite the hectic schedule, she was having the time of her life. Treating Cole’s injury was fulfilling the goal she set for herself when she was sixteen. It was everything she desired to do.

  It made suffering through her finals almost tolerable. She’d finished her last exam of the semester that morning and felt confident she’d done well. Now she was home-free through the winter holidays.

  Driving up to Cole’s gate and pressing the call button, a smile spread across her face. It had been a couple of days since she’d been able to come over. She loved his house a little more each visit.

  She didn’t allow herself to think about its owner that way. That was dangerous ground.

  “What’s the password?”

  She laughed. His French accent hadn’t improved. “Cracker Jacks?” she guessed.

  “Not even close. But I have a weakness for redheads, so come on in.”

  That made her laugh again. Shaking her head, she rolled up her window and eased through the gates once they opened. She’d started parking behind the house by the four-car garage and entering through the door leading right into the pool area.

  Slinging a bag containing her Prix Fixe uniform and necessary elements for her to get ready for work over her shoulder, she headed for the house. Cole was already downstairs. She saw him through the tall windows surrounding the pool deck. He wore a T-shirt without any sleeves and cotton gym shorts, his usual workout gear. He was bent over, retrieving something from the mini-fridge. She couldn’t help but enjoy the view as she opened the door and walked inside.

  “Hey there, stranger,” she called out, closing the door behind her. The warmth of the pool enclosure surrounded her as she passed by the sparkling water and entered the gym.

  “Hey right back,” he replied, turning with the sound of clinking glass.

  Her eyes widened when she spotted a bottle of champagne in one hand and two champagne flutes in the other. “What’s that?”

  “A victory lap, figuratively speaking,” he said, setting the glasses down on the counter running along one wall and going to work on the cork.

  She set her bag down, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Did you win something?”

  The pop of the cork made her jump. He grinned at her. “No. You just took your last final, right?”

  As he filled the glasses, it finally sank in that he was celebrating something she had accomplished. No one had done anything like that for her in longer than she could remember. She couldn’t even reply.

  “I know you’re thinking we shouldn’t drink before we start rehab, but I figure half a glass won’t kill us,” he said, turning to hand her one of the flutes.

  As she took it and looked into his eyes, her heart teetered a little. Dangerous ground, she reminded her fuzzy brain. Then she mentally shook herself and gave him a smile.

  “You know what? I think this is exactly what the doctor ordered,” she said. “Thanks.”

  He lifted his glass. “To the soon-to-be Dr. Everly Wallace.”

  Unexpected tears clogged her throat over hearing herself referred to that way. She forced them back and lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

  After taking a sip, he said, “So, Everly Wallace…you’ve just completed your semester finals. Are you going to Disney World?”

  She grinned. “Your over-the-top commercial announcer voice is much better than your French accent,” she said. When he laughed, she took another sip of champagne. “You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Disney World. Maybe I will someday.”

  He goggled at her. “You’ve never been to Disney World?” When she shook her head, he clutched his chest. “This is a travesty.”

  Studying the bubbles in her glass, she shrugged. “I’ve never even been to Six Flags, and it’s only twenty minutes away.”

  “Seriously?” His eyes went from wide and disbelieving to thoughtful. She feared he would start questioning her about her past, something she avoided discussing at all costs. But he just said, “Well, we’ll have to make up for your lack of a proper childhood one of these days. You haven’t lived until you’ve ridden enough roller coasters to make you want to puke.”

  The offer pushed her out of her comfort zone. Was he saying these things as a friend? She thought they’d progressed to that level over the past couple weeks. She’d spent more time with him in the last fourteen days than she ever had with anyone outside of school or work. They seemed to understand each other pretty well.

  But what if it was more than just casual friendship he was offering? She’d only been on two awkward dates in her entire life. Socializing was a skill she’d never mastered.

  Uncertain how to respond, she just smiled and finished the champagne in her glass. “Time to get started. Nice attempt to distract me from torturing you, but it’s not going to work.”

  He made a dramatic display of rolling his eyes. “You got me.” He took her glass and set the empty flutes on the counter. “Do your worst, Mistress Pain.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” she said, removing her coat.

  And I’ll thoroughly enjoy every moment, her hormone-laden brain couldn’t help but add.

  * * *

  She worked him over good, but Cole had come to expect that by now. Everly Wallace was no softie. Whenever he thought he had reached his limit, she pushed him beyond it. Just a little more every day, but he’d already noticed a number of differences in how he felt and looked since she started working with him.

  Maybe he’d fire his personal trainer and get Everly to work with him from now on.

  The idea held appeal. Though it surely wasn’t her intent, his physical therapist was also giving his libido a thorough workout these days. She wore form-fitting tank tops and yoga pants that hugged the curves of her hips and her shapely rear end when they worked together. He’d found himself watching for whenever she reached up over her head and revealed some of the skin of her taut abdomen. And she had a tattoo on her left shoulder that was always just covered enough that he couldn’t see what it was. Between that and her unwillingness to talk about herself, her mystique was driving him crazy.

  He tried to explain away his attraction to her as being the result of not having had sex in way too long, but he knew better than that. His interest in Everly extended beyond physical attraction. He enjoyed their time together.

  Even when he thought she was being an evil, masochistic, overbearing—

  “Okay, we’re done,” she said.

  Finishing his last crunch, he collapsed back onto the mat and struggled not to issue an unmanly groan. Everly was beside him and had done just as many of the God-awful core exercises without a hint of complaint. He’d thought he was in shape, but she made him realize how woefully wrong he was.

  “I don’t see why all of this is necessary,” he said as he recovered his breath. “A lot of successful pitchers throughout history have had beer guts. Look at Babe Ruth, for God’s sake. Can you see The Babe doing a bicycle crunch?”

  “He didn’t remain a pitcher, now, did he?” Everly pointed out. She was in the middle of an elabora
te stretch that would have bent his spine like a pretzel. “And our focus is on your arm. It’s working, too. You definitely raised your right arm higher than you usually do when you flop after core work.”

  “Huh. Well, that’s something.”

  “Come on, Cream Puff. Time to cool down.”

  He moved into a sitting position and looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Cream Puff? I’m quite sure it’s not standard PT practice to insult your patients.”

  “And here I thought it could be a cute nickname,” she said with a grin. “You so enjoy calling me names during our workouts. I thought I could be Broom-Hilda and you could be Cream Puff.”

  He glowered at her as he began following her cool down stretches. “I only called you that once,” he muttered.

  “Out loud.”

  Since she was right, he didn’t reply. But his lips twitched on a smile. She shook her head at him. They finished their cool down to the music playing on the iPod dock, then Everly rose and grabbed her bag.

  “I’d better hit the shower,” she said. “Time to get ready for work.”

  “Sure,” he said, waving her in the direction of the pool bathroom as he grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. “You know where the towels are.”

  “Thanks.”

  He watched her go, enjoying the sway of her hips as she walked away. One thing that constantly surprised him about Everly was that she didn’t put any effort at all into being enticing. On those occasions when he’d said things that normally opened the door to flirtation with other women, she’d either seemed confused or oblivious. It was clear that she’d spent far too much of her life buried in books and studies.

  Maybe it was time to change that, he thought, rubbing a towel over his face and neck. It could be fun to take her out on a real date. Maybe she’d finally open up about herself.

  The security panel on the wall beeped and interrupted his train of thought. Frowning because he wasn’t expecting anyone, he walked over to it and turned on the video.

  Rebecca.

  Irritation swept through him. He’d never given her his home address. How had she found him? Then he thought about Marshall and his “obligation” to Abigail. Marshall had been over to his place to hang out. Had he given the address to his wife so she could share it with Rebecca?

  In any case, he had no choice but to get this over with once and for all.

  Taking a breath to calm his temper, he pressed the button to open the speaker. “Good evening, Rebecca. What brings you here?”

  She jerked a little at the sound of his voice, then turned to look into the camera. “Oh, thank God! Cole, I’ve been trying to reach you, but I haven’t heard back. I really need to talk to you.”

  “We don’t have anything more to say to each other, Rebecca,” he said, keeping his tone level and matter-of-fact. “You’re a great gal, but you’re at a different place than I am right now. I agreed that things were better off this way.”

  “That’s just it,” she said, waving a perfectly-manicured hand to accentuate the statement. “I had thought we were in different places, but we’re not. Can we please talk about this, Cole?”

  He ground his back teeth in frustration. This woman wasn’t going to leave him alone until he made things crystal clear. If he sat down with her and explained that he was no longer interested in a romantic relationship with her, hopefully she’d move on. Then he, Marshall, and Abigail could all get a little peace.

  “Rebecca, I’m just finishing my workout. I’ll tell you what…let’s meet for a drink. The Sundial at eight o’clock.”

  “Oh, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Cole.”

  “All right. I’ll see you then.”

  He disconnected the speakers and rubbed a hand down his face. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.

  A soft sound had him glancing toward the bathroom. Everly stood there, still wearing her workout clothes. Looking at the security panel and then back to her, he felt his heart sink. How long had she been standing there?

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No.” She lifted the bottle she held and gave him a small smile. “I just wanted to thank you for picking up my preferred soap and shampoo. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Ah, okay. No problem. Look, Everly—”

  “I’m really late now. I’m going to have to rush through getting ready. Don’t worry about waiting for me. I can let myself out.”

  Before he could reply, she turned and went back into the bathroom. Cursing, he threw his towel to the ground. It was only a small consolation that he’d used his pitching arm and felt much less pain than he had in weeks.

  Chapter 13

  Though it might have been cowardly of him, Cole arrived at The Sundial thirty minutes before his scheduled meeting with Rebecca. He wanted at least one drink before she got there. Since he knew he’d be drinking, he chartered a car for the evening. Hell, the way this day was going, he’d need an escort just to get to the damn chartered car.

  He had just taken the first sip of his second double Jack and Coke when Rebecca came into the restaurant. She knew how to make an entrance, he mused, watching her ease her long, black coat from her shoulders to reveal a mouth-watering red dress and matching red shoes with heels that could kill a man if wielded properly. When she used a hand to ease some of her dark, curling hair over her bare shoulder, her eyes swept the restaurant. A playful smile turned her mouth up at the corners when several male heads turned to stare at her. Then she turned and walked to the bar, her focus on him.

  There was a time when that type of thing had infused him with pride. Here was this woman, this beautiful, seductive woman, and she was with him.

  Now, he couldn’t help but feel that it was all calculated. A show.

  A lie.

  He stood as she approached, not about to forgo the manners his mother taught him. He wasn’t unaware of the wondering looks that shifted from her to him as guests tried to determine if he was who they thought he was. Rebecca smiled as she reached him, showing perfectly straight, white teeth framed by ruby colored lips.

  “Hello, Cole,” she said.

  When she reached him, she stretched up to give him a kiss. She met air as he turned at the last minute and gave her a brief hug to cover the maneuver. He pulled back and saw her eyes flash with some sort of emotion. Confusion? Annoyance?

  “Hello, Rebecca.”

  They took their seats beside each other at the bar. His eyes drifted down when she crossed her legs. Those legs were one of her finest attributes, and she knew how to use them. Her dress was short and revealing, an odd choice considering the season. When his gaze returned to her face, she gave him a knowing smile.

  Taking a long swallow of his drink, he asked, “What can I get you?”

  “Has your memory faded so quickly in only a few months?” she chided, looking at him from beneath her long lashes.

  Glancing at the bartender, he said, “A vodka martini for the lady, please.”

  “So you do remember,” she murmured.

  “I remember all kinds of things, Rebecca.”

  Sighing, she brushed her hair back from her eyes and nodded. “I understand that. I hope you know that I’ve swallowed my pride to speak with you, Cole. I know you’ve heard me say that I made a mistake when I broke things off with you, but I don’t think you understand how much I’ve regretted my own stupidity.”

  He waited for the bartender to place the martini in front of her. “I guess you’re right. I don’t understand. What happened in the span of four months to make you change your mind?”

  She took a healthy sip before responding. He took the opportunity to finish his drink and signal for another one. He was starting to feel liquid courage flow through his veins and didn’t want to lose the buzz. When Rebecca glanced at him, there were tears in her eyes.

  Oh, great.

  “Cole,” she began, “I’m going to begin by apologizing again. This is going to sound beyond juvenile.”r />
  His brows drew together. “Okay.”

  After taking another sip of her drink, she continued, “You mentioned that we’re at different places in our lives. I know you think that means you’re younger than me and I’m more mature. But the truth is, my decision to end things with you was motivated by very immature reasons.”

  Wondering if he’d ever make sense of this conversation, he just stared at her.

  “The thing is…I ended things with you because I thought you’d beg me to take you back,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Fortunately, the bartender walked up with his beverage right then, as Cole couldn’t think of a thing to say. He barely resisted grabbing the bartender’s arm to keep him there as he tried to formulate a response. Since he couldn’t do that without drawing undue attention to himself, he opted for taking another swallow of his drink.

  “I know…you don’t know what to say,” she said in the same soft voice. She used her cocktail napkin to dab at her eyes. “I’m the one who thought it would be a good idea, and even I don’t know what to say.”

  She sniffled. He squirmed.

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when a woman cries,” she said as another tear fell. “Oh, I’m only making this worse.”

  He felt his resolve crumbling. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was a woman’s tears. Withholding a sigh, he reached over and rubbed her shoulder.

  “Don’t cry, Rebecca. We’ve all made decisions we’ve regretted.”

  She shook her head and blotted her eyes again. “Not like this, Cole. I jeopardized a future with you in a foolish attempt to gauge how you felt about me. I should have just asked instead of acting like some schoolgirl.”

  He still didn’t know what to say, so he just kept rubbing her shoulder like an imbecile.

  After taking a shuddering breath, she looked at him through wet lashes. “Do you hate me?”

  “Of course I don’t hate you,” he said. Thank God he could think of that much to say.

  Rebecca gave him a watery smile. “Well, at least I can take that away from all of this.”