Lindsey walked out of the office building, which was a renovated old house that Dawson had told her was built in the thirties. The place was quaint, and it was obvious that Dawson had put a lot of thought into the renovations. The road was set back a street from Main Street, and on one side of the lawyer office was a dental complex, and on the other side, another renovated house that advertised massages. Which sounded pretty good right now.
She headed to the van, which she’d parked backwards in front of the building so that she could unload it easier. She estimated that she was about half done with the unloading, and even though it was a cool day, she’d nearly drunk down two water bottles. She took another guzzle of water before reaching for another box. As she turned toward the building, a couple of bike riders came into view.
She glanced over to see that they were a man and woman . . . the broad shoulders and dark-blond hair of the man reminded her of . . . Nelson.
Lindsey’s shoe caught on the first step leading to the porch. She pitched forward, the box still in her hands, and she had the good sense to release the box so that she could catch herself against the steps. At least she hadn’t hit her face, but her palms and knees scraped against the concrete. Her knees were, of course, protected mostly by her jeans, but the sting in her hands was immediate.
What were the chances?
And . . . here it came.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked.
“Lindsey?” the man said. Nelson’s voice.
“You know her?” the woman continued.
“We, uh, met at the café this morning,” Nelson continued.
Lindsey had yet to turn around from her fallen state on the steps. She blinked against the stinging of her eyes because, yes, her hands hurt that bad. She steeled her emotions. Apparently this day could get worse. She rotated until she was sitting on the steps, and the woman had already reached her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“That was quite the fall,” the woman said, crouching down and peering at her with hazel eyes. “What happened?”
“I just tripped, that’s all,” Lindsey said, finding her voice to be surprisingly steady.
“I’m Maddy. Hardy,” the woman said in a clear, singsong voice, as if she were trying to soothe an upset child. “And you’re Lindsey, right?”
“Right,” Lindsey said.
“Do you know how old you are, Lindsey?” Maddy asked.
Lindsey blinked. “Uh, twenty-eight, but what does—”
“Very good, Lindsey,” Maddy said. “Now tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”
The woman was about forty, Lindsey guessed, and looked like she was a marathon runner with the spandex shorts and top she wore. Or maybe she was another pro athlete and raced bikes?
“Maddy,” Nelson cut in. “I’ve got it.”
He sat next to Lindsey on the steps and drew one of her hands toward him, then poured water from a bottle onto her scraped palms. The cold water was a shock for a couple of seconds, then it started to soothe.
“Let me see your other hand,” Nelson said, releasing her first hand.
She lifted her other hand, and he proceeded to pour more water on.
“Do you have a first-aid kit in that van?” he asked.
“Um, I don’t think so,” Lindsey said. She’d chewed out this man a few hours ago, but now here he was helping her. “It’s a rental.”
“Why don’t you check inside the building, Maddy,” Nelson said. “Look in the bathroom.”
The woman moved past them and headed up the steps.
Now that he’d stopped pouring water on her hands, angry red scrapes started to burn again.
“You banged up your knees pretty good too,” Nelson said.
It was then that Lindsey noticed that she’d ripped holes in the knees of her jeans. Her knees were throbbing, but her hands hurt more right now.
“Hope these aren’t expensive designer jeans,” he said, even though she had yet to speak a word to him. “Unless you’re into the ripped-knee look.”
She shook her head. What was wrong with her? She’d tripped on a few stairs, and now she was apparently a helpless damsel.
“Only found some hand sanitizer,” Maddy said, coming out of the offices. “But that will only burn her scrapes.”
Nelson looked over at Maddy. “Agreed. How close is the nearest store?”
Maddy placed her hands on her hips. “A couple of blocks. I could head over on the bike and be back in a jiffy.”
They were having this entire conversation without her.
Before she knew it, Maddy had climbed on her bike and rode away.
“How do you feel?” Nelson asked. “Do you want something to drink?”
She nodded again, mute.
He rose and crossed to his bike, where he must have gotten the first water bottle he used on her hands.
She couldn’t help but notice that while he wasn’t wearing biker’s spandex, his shorts and fitted T-shirt made it no secret that he was a man who probably had less than 2 percent fat on his body. He also wore some sort of neoprene brace on his left knee. He unstrapped a water bottle, then walked back to her.
She averted her gaze because she shouldn’t be checking out Tyler Nelson; besides, she was sure she looked a mess. In a lot of ways. Inside and out.
He didn’t sit by her again but handed over the water bottle after unscrewing the lid.
She took a drink, then handed it back. “Thanks,” she said, finally speaking. “You really don’t have to patch me up. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
“It’s not a problem,” Nelson said.
His gaze wasn’t leaving her face, and she brushed back some stray hair from her face with the tips of her fingers. She took a breath. “And I’m sorry . . . for earlier.” She should probably explain why she’d been so snappish, but now wasn’t the time. Besides, moving to Pine Valley was about putting the misery of the past six months behind her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He moved to pick up the books that had tumbled out of the box.
“You really don’t have to clean up,” she said, rising to her feet. She winced at the sharp ache in her knees.
Nelson was at her side in an instant, grasping her elbow. “Easy.”
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just sore.”
He was standing really close to her, and although it was clear he’d been exercising plenty on the bike, he still smelled of the outdoors, spice, and pine.
His deep-gray eyes scanned her face. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?” he asked.
“No.”
He didn’t move for a moment, and she didn’t tell him to step back.
Then he released her arm. “How about you tell me where to put these boxes?”
She stared as he hefted the box from the ground. “What about your knee?”
He started up the steps. No tripping for him. “I can carry a few boxes. If you have a piano to move, then I might have to pass.”
She followed him up the steps, then opened the door for him so he could enter the building. “My office is the one on the right. I’m lining the boxes of books by the wall for now until I get a bookcase in there.”
Nelson continued into the office space and set the box over by the wall she pointed to. Then he headed outside again. She followed. Her hands might be scraped, but she could still carry boxes.
“I’ve got it,” Nelson said, when she joined him at the van. “Please. It’s really no trouble. All I have planned for the rest of the day is trying to talk Maddy into giving me a couple of hours off to watch my team play tonight.”
Lindsey watched him heft another box, one she knew was quite heavy. His arms were plenty strong, but adding weight when his knee was injured might not be so smart. She pulled her gaze away from the way his shoulders and biceps defined his T-shirt.
“Are you sure this is okay with your knee?” she asked.
His gray eyes cut to her, and one edge of his mouth lifted. “If it starts h
urting, I’ll stop.”
Lindsey stepped to the side so that he could pass. She watched him head into the building again. The more Nelson helped her out, the worse she felt for getting angry with him. But she had to admit that the help was nice. She was apparently more out of shape than she’d realized. Maybe the slower life in Pine Valley would give her some time to get into a regular exercise routine.
Nelson returned, and for the next few minutes, Lindsey stood around while he carried in box after box. There were only a couple left when Maddy arrived on her bike, a grocery sack dangling from one of her bike handles.
“Got some Neosporin and Band-Aids,” Maddy said.
So while Nelson emptied the van of the last few things, Maddy tended to Lindsey while they sat on the edge of the porch. “This should heal pretty quickly,” Maddy said. “Now, how do you know Nelson?”
“I—I don’t really,” Lindsey said. He was inside the building at the moment. “We crossed paths at the café this morning.”
Maddy nodded. “I know about him eating at the café. He needs to eat whole foods only, especially during his recovery. Speeds up the healing process.”
Lindsey wondered if a man the size of Nelson would be satisfied with whole foods. She guessed the answer was no. “Are you a nutritionist too?”
“Not licensed, if that’s what you’re asking,” Maddy said. “But I’ve read plenty of books.”
Sounded so not official.
“You’ve done enough here, Nelson,” Maddy said. “You owe me three more miles on the bike, then an ice down.”
Lindsey snapped her gaze to Nelson. He didn’t seem bothered by Maddy’s commanding tone, nor did he move away from the van. He knelt on the back to shift the rear bench into place.
Maddy clicked her tongue. “If he reinjures that knee, his coach will fire me.”
“He said he wasn’t hurting.”
Maddy scoffed. “Is that what he told you?”
“Um, yes,” she said. “Or I wouldn’t have let him carry boxes.”
“He’s hurting all right,” Maddy said. “And he’s a very stubborn man.” She left Lindsey’s side and crossed to Nelson as he backed out of the van.
“Come on, we’re not done for the day,” Maddy said.
Nelson straightened and brushed off his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
When Maddy turned away, the slightest grimace passed over his face. Lindsey’s heart sank. What if he really had overdone it? Yet he was out riding a bike, so she wasn’t sure what was or wasn’t okay with his therapy.
He joined Maddy at the bikes, then he climbed on. Before he rode away, he looked over at Lindsey. “Game’s at seven thirty if you’re interested.”
Before she could answer or ask him any questions, he fixed his feet to the pedals and headed after Maddy, who had a good start.
Lindsey watched Nelson until he rounded the corner down the street. He’d come out of nowhere, it seemed, but he was suddenly everywhere. Now, with the entire van unloaded, thanks to Tyler Nelson, she’d have time to finish that report.
The bed and breakfast was quiet as Nelson headed into the back-lobby-slash-game-room, where the only television in the place was located. He carried an ice pack for his throbbing knee and his ever-present water bottle. He located the remote and settled onto the large couch. The place was decorated like a bear haven, with small wood bear statues lining a shelf on the wall and a few bear paintings on the wall.
Nelson found the sports channel just as the announcers read the starting lineup for the Falcons. Nelson tried not to let it bother him that his name wasn’t read. The announcer mentioned that he was still out with a knee injury. He clenched his jaw as the announcer speculated on when he might return. “Six weeks at the most,” the guy said.
“Try three weeks,” Nelson said to the television. He arranged the ice bag on his knee, and the cold began to immediately penetrate. The first minute or so was always the most uncomfortable, but then things would go numb.
The emptiness of the place made him assume that most of the guests had checked out, save for Lindsey Gerber. He was feeling pretty good about the peace they’d made. Maybe the next time they ran into each other, she wouldn’t avoid him. So he guessed it was lucky they’d passed by her new office when they did. He’d tried not to check her out, or at least not be obvious about it.
But he was human, male, and well . . . human. Lindsey Gerber was a beautiful woman. Both when she was decked out in those high heels of hers and when she was wearing simple jeans and tennis shoes. He’d noticed at the café she didn’t wear any sort of a wedding ring, but he had yet to learn if she was in a serious relationship. With Dawson or some other guy. If she was, then there was no chance she’d be showing up tonight to watch the game. Well, she might not anyway. She hadn’t even said she liked hockey.
And . . . he should probably pay attention to the game, because Ben had just made an amazing save.
Nelson wanted to be happy for Ben, but he only felt mad at himself all over again. Sitting around in Pine Valley with an ice pack on his knee wasn’t his first choice.
He took an obligatory drink from his water bottle, hoping that Maddy would be happy wherever she was or whatever she was doing. What did she do at night? Did she really go to bed at 8:00 p.m. when she usually told him it was time to call it a night? Maybe she had a secret night life. He chuckled at the thought. No, Maddy probably went on a midnight run.
“Watch out on the left!” Nelson said to the television. “Come on, Minky, keep your eyes open!”
But Minky collided with a Denver Charger, and his shot went wild. Minky recovered the puck quickly, then shot again. The Chargers’ goaltender deftly blocked the shot, then sent the puck skimming past the half line. Once again, a Charger took control of the puck and took the straight shot to the goal.
Ben moved, blocking the puck, but then his skate slipped at the last second, and the puck crossed the goal line.
“No!” Nelson groaned and dropped his head. Only four minutes into the game, and already the Chargers were up by one.
“Everything okay?” a woman’s voice asked from across the room.
Nelson looked up to see Linsey Gerber. “The Chargers just scored, which isn’t my team,” he said, and even though the disappointment of the goal stabbed through him, he felt insanely happy that Lindsey Gerber was standing twenty feet away.
“Right, you play for the Falcons.”
She stood in the entryway that led to the main hall. The woman changed more in one day than most people did in a week. Gone were the ripped jeans and T-shirt, and now she wore printed leggings that were quite . . . fitted, as leggings were. But he tried not to notice how her black V-neck top hugged her hips and followed her rather nice curves. The look on her face told him that she was wondering if she’d made the right choice . . . to come watch the game with him? Nelson didn’t know if he was jumping to conclusions, but a guy could only hope that her appearance meant that she didn’t have a boyfriend and was keeping her options open.
If Becca could hear his thoughts, she’d have a good laugh.
Nelson lifted the ice pack from his knee and shifted over on the couch, since he was sitting dead center. He made it a point not to grimace at the movement despite the soreness. And no, he wasn’t sore from carrying boxes of books; it was from the biking. Or maybe the Pilates. Or quite possibly the hiking that morning.
“Have a seat,” he said. “There’s plenty of room.”
Lindsey looked like she was ready to bolt at any second, so he redirected his gaze to the television, hoping that maybe his nonchalance would draw her a little farther into the room.
His peripheral vision told him he was right.
She walked into the room but still didn’t sit down.
“Don’t do it, Ben,” Nelson said to the television. The goaltender had moved too far forward. “Move back. Haven’t you already learned your lesson?”
He sighed and leaned back against the couch. Still Lindsey hadn’t join
ed him.
“Is Ben the goaltender when you’re not playing?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Nelson glanced over at her, hiding a smile that she was still hanging out in the room. “He’s a good guy, but man, he makes small mistakes that cost us in the long run.”
Lindsey folded her arms. “Like coming out too far from the goal box?”
She’d pulled her long, dark hair back into one of those messy buns his sister seemed to favor. On Lindsey, it only exposed her slim neck and drew attention to her collarbones. He wondered if she was still wearing that perfume.
“Yeah,” he said. “Do you watch hockey?”
Lindsey moved a little closer to the couch but still didn’t sit. Should he shift to the far side? Would that make her more comfortable?
“I’ve, uh, seen parts of the Stanley Cup.” Her gaze moved from him to the television.
“Parts?”
“You know, at a sports grill or maybe when it’s been on at a friend’s house.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Hockey’s not the most popular American sport like baseball or football.”
“Well, I don’t hate hockey,” she said.
He smiled. “Then sit down. You’re making me antsy.”
One of her brows raised, but he detected the smallest bit of softening in her expression.
“Go the other way, Minky,” Nelson grumbled. But his annoyance at the starting forward of his team was greatly tempered when Lindsey sat at the other end of the couch. About as far away as she could get without sitting on the armrest. Still, it was progress.
“How’s the knee?” she asked.
He hated that question, but coming from her, spoken in a concerned tone, it wasn’t all that bad. “Every day’s better.”
“You didn’t hurt it moving the boxes, did you?”
Nelson turned his head. Her eyes were a darker blue in the lamplight of the room. And things were too dim to see her freckles. “Moving boxes felt like a vacation compared to what Maddy’s having me do. Although I can’t complain. Or shouldn’t complain.”
“Because that would be too much negativity?” The edges of her mouth lifted.
All for You Page 4