Bad Boys for Hire_Nick_Christmas Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  And the fact that Nick no longer cared to contact her. Plus the fact that Jason wasn’t interested. And added to that, Ken and Jolie were happily married and she was going to be an aunt, and all her friends were moving on with their lives, leaving her the paralyzed observer sitting on the sidelines.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “We’re sorry.”

  Dang. Here came the soliciting pity. Were they insensitive or was she the problem? Overly sensitive and feeling like bursting into tears.

  “It’s not your fault,” Carol mumbled. “I’ll be okay. Let me get back to work.”

  One by one, her friends got up and hugged her, patting her back and reassuring her. They really were the best, but deep inside, they didn’t get her and what was going on in her life.

  Only Jason would get it. Maybe he was waiting for her to call. After all, he too, could be having doubts. Had his eating habits been too messy? Was the kiss not good enough? Was Carol embarrassed to be seen with him? Did she pity him that he’d lost more than her?

  Yep. She would call Jason and ask for a second date. After all, he’d said, You only have to ask.

  Fifteen

  Being sick had a few benefits, one of which was cancelling all of his clients at the gym. Brianna was especially germ phobic, so Nick made sure to do a lot of coughing and sneezing when he saw her lurking near the weight machines. After making sure she saw him sneeze into his palm, he’d even walked straight up to her and offered to shake hands with her. That had been enough to send her flying to the women’s locker room. No doubt, she held her breath the entire way. Ha, ha.

  After clearing his schedule, Nick stayed home the rest of the day. Instead of taking a nap, he went online and spent the afternoon reading the forums and message boards where people discussed spinal cord injuries.

  “Nick, time for dinner.” His sister-in-law peeked into his bedroom. “What are you doing on the computer?”

  “Research,” he said, shutting his laptop. “Stay back so you don’t catch what I have.”

  Heather waved from the doorway. “As long as you don’t cough on me, I’ll be fine. Come eat before everything gets cold.”

  “And here I thought you’d serve me chicken soup in bed.”

  “No such luck. You’d have to get a wife for that.” Heather laughed.

  “Haven’t had any luck in that department.” Nick enjoyed the banter with her. She was easygoing and felt like the big sister he never had, growing up in a family of rough and tumble boys.

  “That’s because you insist on being Big Bad Nick Wolff.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and they say women like bad boys.” Nick washed his hands at the kitchen sink. “How many bad boys help you set the table?”

  “Ones who want to eat.” She turned off the beeping oven. “So, what’s going on with that woman you were interested in? I forgot her name.”

  “You mean, Carol, the disabled one?” Sam came around the kitchen island with hot mitts to take the casserole out of the oven.

  “It’s Carol, the computer programmer, or Carol, who liked to climb mountains, or Carol, the hip hop dancer.” Nick set the plates on the kitchen table. “I’ve been reading up about disability and how they don’t want to be defined by their disability.”

  “Oh, so you are learning.” Sam punched Nick’s arm. He hadn’t brought up the embarrassing incident at Cooper’s Hangout, and Nick hoped he’d cut him some brotherly slack and not mention it to Heather. “I thought you were learning disabled when it came to good manners.”

  “That’s such a bad joke.” Heather shook her head as she grabbed the cutlery. “So, Nick, what have you learned?”

  “Other than I’ve been an arrogant pig and an ableist?”

  “Ableist? What’s that?”

  “Someone who views the disabled as different and has preconceptions about them.”

  Sam’s eyebrows bunched and he placed a palm on Nick’s forehead. “You’re running a fever.”

  “Yeah, it sucks to be sick, but all this downtime’s helping me learn. I can’t believe I stuck my foot in my mouth so much. And all the assumptions about Carol, like she’d feel inferior because of her disability, or that she would be easy pickings, or like shooting fish in a barrel, that was plain wrong.”

  “You’re admitting you’re wrong?” Sam’s jaw dropped wide.

  “Wait, and you’re losing your bad boy edge?” Heather clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “You’ll never get laid now.” Sam snickered under his breath. “Sexy Santa has retired. Want to join the police force?”

  “Uh, no.” Nick poured ice water into a pitcher and set it on the table. “I got a phone call from the director of Wheelympics. They need a coach for strength training, and a lot of the parents recommended me.”

  “Awesome.” Sam high-fived Nick. “Are you quitting Bad Boys for Hire?”

  “Hey, wait,” Heather said. “I’m all for Nick getting a job, but my brother needs him.”

  “I thought I was on the bad list for supposedly sleeping with clients.” Nick waited for Heather to sit down before taking his seat at the table.

  “Rex says you got a lot of requests for playing Santa, although supposedly, a few of his friends’ wives objected to you. What’s going on with that?” Heather wrinkled her nose at him. “You been sniffing around the married ladies?”

  “No way. Even I have principles. What did Rex say?”

  “Nothing.” Heather folded her hands and waited for Sam to say grace.

  Nick figured whatever Rex had said wasn’t flattering. It was probably the investment bankers he’d entertained. Those women were made of money and wanted to drag him off for a threesome.

  He could think of nothing worse than servicing two demanding bitches and not getting paid for it. No, thank you.

  After everyone started eating, Sam pointed his fork at Nick. “Will the Wheelympics job pay enough for you to get your own place?”

  “I haven’t gotten to the pay yet. She invited me in for an interview,” Nick answered. “But I would imagine I’d still need to moonlight—either taking on private clients or doing the Bad Boys gig.”

  “You should consider the police academy.”

  “It’s not like they pay that much either,” Nick countered.

  “Yes, but there are lower cost areas in California, for example up the redwood coast closer to Oregon or the Central Valley.”

  “You trying to get rid of me before I become an uncle?” Nick shook his head and dug into Heather’s delicious enchilada casserole. “I’m going to try and stick around. Maybe get a roommate or a situation where I can be a live-in aide.”

  “Live-in aide? For a woman? And here I thought you were turning goodie-two-shoes.” Sam chuckled.

  “Never.” Nick made a bicep and poked it. “Patricia, the Wheelympics director, said that some disabled individuals need someone around at night in case they need anything. In exchange, I’d get free rent. Not everyone has family, and Medicaid doesn’t provide overnight care workers. The system prefers to institutionalize people who are perfectly capable of living on their own and working, just because they need someone to turn them over and make sure they’re comfortable.”

  “Wow, you’re really into this disabled thing,” Heather said. “Does your interest have something to do with the lady you mentioned earlier?”

  Nick gave Sam a warning look, and his brother went back to his food with relish.

  “I’m not interested in her anymore.” Nick’s stomach soured. Like his brother had warned him, there was a fine line between pursuing a woman, showing interest, and stalking. If it was unwanted, then he’d better leave well enough alone.

  “Why? Whatever happened?” Heather was clueless since there were some things brothers kept to themselves.

  “Nothing.” Nick’s shoulders slumped. Even though he couldn’t stop thinking about Carol and wishing that somehow he would run into her at his new job with Wheelymp
ics, he had to admit he’d been a total fool the way he treated her, all arrogant as if she were an easy conquest.

  “Oh well, at least you learned of a new job opportunity.” Heather gave him an encouraging smile. “And you’ll be around to play Uncle Santa every year.”

  “You bet. I never knew I was so good with kids until I started playing Santa.”

  He was going soft, but then again, being a bad ass hadn’t gotten him more than a Tinder box full of forgettable hookups.

  “I’m proud of you.” Sam slapped his back. “Who knows, maybe next Christmas, there will be a Mrs. Claus sitting at your side.”

  Sixteen

  Carol lingered at the doorway to her apartment and watched the sunset over the hills. Things were going well at work, and her boss had driven her out of the building, telling her to go home and spend time with the family.

  It was Friday night, a week before the Bumblebees Christmas Party, and she was, as usual, dateless. Marisa would be getting ready to go out barhopping, but she never asked Carol to join them.

  The door opened behind her and Carol jumped halfway from her chair.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” Marisa said. “I saw you through the window sitting there. Are you okay?”

  Her sister was dressed in a slinky red number, but still in stockinged feet. Her toenails were bright red, and she had a makeup brush in her hand.

  “I’m fine. Just tired.” Carol smiled as she rolled herself into the apartment. “Going out again?”

  “A bunch of us at the hospital are having a Christmas party. What are you up to tonight?”

  No invitation was forthcoming to join them.

  “I’ll do some reading and call it an early night.” Carol wondered what Jason did on Friday nights.

  “Sounds good to me. You’ve been working too hard lately.” Marisa picked up her phone and checked her messages. “Do you need anything from me before I leave?”

  “Nope. I’m fine. Had lunch with the Bumblebees, and I’m not that hungry right now. Think I’ll fix myself a salad.”

  “How’d it go?” Marisa asked. She was not yet a member of the group, so she hadn’t been invited to the planning lunch, although Carol had a few free tickets she could use to get her into the gala party.

  Carol moved into the kitchen and washed her hands at the lowered sink. “I’m supposed to bring a date and wear an evening gown.”

  “Makes sense. I mean, to wear a nice dress. You are representing the charity.”

  “You know me. No sense of fashion and no date.” She moved to the refrigerator and removed a box of prewashed salad greens. Hopefully, Marisa would mention Jason.

  “Didn’t you use to go out with the climbing guy, what’s his name?” Marisa opened a bottle of mineral water and poured it into a glass.

  “He kind of dumped me after the accident.” Carol didn’t want to sound bitter, but the truth was the truth.

  “How about someone from work? You’re lucky because computer programming is full of guys, even if they’re geeks.”

  Why wasn’t she mentioning Jason? This was frustrating.

  “I prefer not to mix work with pleasure.” Carol arranged the salad greens in a bowl. She sprinkled cherry tomatoes over the top and tossed it with a bottle of prepared dressing.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of someone.”

  Carol took a deep breath and her stomach jittered. She tried to sound casual. “Do you think I should call Jason?”

  “Jason?” Marisa’s voice hiccupped. Something was definitely going on. “I didn’t think you liked him.”

  “Why would you think that?” Carol’s intuition twinged a warning.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Jason was quiet after the date. He didn’t seem very happy.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No. I figured it didn’t go well, what with Nick’s intrusion. He just seemed down, and I didn’t want to ask, seeing how you’re my sister, and he figured we’d talk.”

  “But you didn’t mention anything to me. Maybe he didn’t like me. Do you think that’s the case?”

  Marisa shrugged. She stared at her compact and powdered her nose. “I can’t talk about him too much because of regulations. Why don’t you call him and ask for yourself?”

  “Okay … guess I will. He’s all set up for me to call?”

  “Yes, he has a voice-activated speaker phone. Everything is set.” She applied bright red lipstick, then checked out her hair. “I gotta go. You have a great evening.”

  This time, she didn’t kiss Carol’s head. Instead she patted her on the top of her head. Another thing Carol hated.

  Didn’t they teach her anything in nursing school about disability? Or did she only treat Carol in such a condescending way?

  After Marisa left, Carol ate her salad and decided she’d better suck it up and call Jason.

  Her heart thumped while the phone rang. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t as if Jason were the love of her life. She liked him, yes, but one date was not enough to know whether they clicked or not.

  He picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

  Just hearing his deep voice brought warmth to her insides. He was an attractive man, and he must have had a girlfriend or someone close before the accident.

  “Hey, it’s Carol. How’ve you been?”

  “Could be better.” He sounded tired. “I meant to get back to you, but I’ve been in the hospital. Nothing too serious.”

  How could nothing be too serious when he was a quadriplegic? His injury was high level enough that he couldn’t regulate body temperature, was subject to muscle spasms, seizures, and skyrocketing blood pressure.

  She took a breath and waited for him to elucidate.

  “You really want to know?” he asked after a moment of silence.

  “If you want to share.”

  “Actually, maybe not. I’d hate to be the bore who goes over every ache and pain. Why did you call?”

  Panic dampened Carol’s palms. The way he asked made it seem as if her attention was unwelcome.

  “Is it okay that I called you?”

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking about you, but wasn’t sure if you still wanted to hang out.”

  Whew. At least he wasn’t outright pushing her away.

  “I’ve been thinking about you, too. Should we hang out?” She held her breath, as if waiting for a verdict to be delivered.

  “It’d have to be at my place, since my caregivers have left for the day.”

  “You don’t have anyone stay with you overnight?” Carol couldn’t imagine being alone in an apartment without the use of both arms and legs.

  “The guys at the firehouse take turns covering the nights. But that’s too much detail for you. How about we have that dessert we talked about? Tell me what you’ve been hankering for and I’ll have it delivered before you arrive.”

  “I can pick it up at the store,” Carol offered.

  “That won’t be necessary. You’re my guest.” His voice chilled distinctively.

  Had she insulted him by offering to pick up the dessert? Probably. It always pissed her off when someone offered to help—not because she didn’t appreciate them, but because it reminded her of how people perceived her—as helpless and unable to cope with daily living.

  “Awesome.” She put on a cheerful tone. “Text me your address and tell me when you want me to come over.”

  “Anytime you’re ready.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yes, sure. I haven’t had a date on a Friday night for a good long time, and I’m not about to let you weasel out of it.”

  “No weaseling.” Carol’s heart lightened. He was just as worried about her as she was about him. She’d bet anything that Jason was a confident man before his injury.

  “Good. What’s your favorite dessert?”

  “Apple Charlotte, but I doubt you can find it ready-made, so anything with apples will do.”

  “Apple Charlotte it is. Vanilla ice crea
m?”

  “Definitely. I’ll see you soon.”

  As soon as she hung up her phone, she pumped her fist. She wasn’t a total loser after all, and she, too, for the first time since she was injured, had a Friday night date.

  Carol heard the whirr of the electric wheelchair right before the clicking of the door locks.

  “Please let yourself in,” Jason said.

  She opened the door and presented him with a bouquet of flowers—yellow daisies she’d picked up from Terri’s flower shop on her way over. Terri had wisely not given her the fifth degree inquisition about her plans and only wished her luck.

  “Show off.” Jason smirked as he brought both hands together to clamp the cellophane-wrapped flowers.

  Wow. Was he going to be insulted every time she did something he couldn’t do?

  The scent of fresh apples and caramel greeted Carol when she wheeled herself into the apartment. An electric candle flickered on the center of a small round table, and two place settings were laid out with a piece of dessert on each plate.

  “Wow. You weren’t kidding about the Apple Charlotte,” Carol exclaimed, smiling. He really knew how to make a woman feel special.

  “The only thing I need you to do is scoop the ice cream,” Jason said. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, so I had to keep it in the freezer.”

  He maneuvered his wheelchair into the kitchen and hooked the low freezer drawer open.

  “I’ll get it.” Carol scrambled to his side and collected the ice cream. “Where would you keep the scoop?”

  “It’s on the counter next to the napkins.”

  The box with the rest of the dessert sat on the lowered counter, and Carol noticed the card left by the concierge service. Jason really had tried to impress her, and she should be thankful. But then, gushing over it would be demeaning, because it would call to attention that he couldn’t have gotten the dessert himself.

  “How many scoops do you want?” Carol asked in a hearty voice.

  “Only one.” He gestured to his belly. “I’m already starting to lose my abs.”

  “I know what you mean,” Carol agreed. “I used to have killer thighs and calves. Now, I’m noodle legs.”