The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  Heat rushed through her. She stood so fast she almost stumbled. Fortunately, she managed to collect herself before he turned around.

  “Over here is the family room,” he said, closing the closet door and leading her further into the house.

  She half-expected to see a form of frat party/man cave décor with well-worn recliners, flashes of neon, and posters on the walls, so she was pleasantly surprised when she took in the two beige and cream sofas and coordinating easy chairs. The room was a contemporary blend of soft creams, browns, and blues that made the rich wood floors really pop. She was no expert, but she knew enough to identify several pieces of fine art on the walls.

  Then her eyes moved to the media center.

  “How big is this thing?” she asked, moving closer to the enormous flat panel television dominating the length of one wall.

  “She’s seventy glorious inches,” Cole said, moving with her and running his hand along one of the television’s gleaming black edges.

  “Uh-huh.” She glanced in the glass-front cabinets lining either side of the custom-built media center. “And how many game systems do you have?”

  “One of each,” he said. “And so many games I have an extra room to store them.”

  She laughed. Then she realized he was serious.

  “That many?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Do you own one of every game ever made or something?”

  “Pretty much.” He grinned. “Well, except for an original gold version of Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out, but I’m sure I’ll find one eventually.”

  “I see.”

  He wagged a finger in the air. “See now? That was a judging ‘I see.’ Are you telling me that you don’t have a ridiculously high pile of books somewhere in your house?”

  She opened her mouth in surprise. He’d totally pegged her.

  Turning on her heel, she said, “Moving on...”

  He laughed and walked ahead of her to lead the way. “If it makes you feel any better, I get most of these games and systems for free. Endorsements and such. I donate a bunch of them.”

  For some reason, that did make her feel better. And slightly guilty about her humungous book collection, none of which she received for free. She forgot all about her guilt when they rounded another corner and stepped into the heart of the house.

  “This kitchen is amazing, Cole!”

  She looked around with an awed expression at the state-of-the-art appliances, huge entertainment island, and floor-to-ceiling storage shelves complete with a rolling ladder for accessing the highest spots. The space was as large as half of her grandpa’s house, she thought.

  “Is the refrigerator hidden in one of these cabinets?” she asked, walking over to examine the cherry wood.

  “Yep. Right here.” He walked past her to the other side of the island and pulled the door open.

  She hurried over to see it. “This is so cool!” Her eyes fell on the fridge’s contents. “Is that sweet tea?”

  “Sure is. Want a glass?”

  “I’d love one, thanks.”

  He pulled out the glass pitcher and reached into a cabinet to pull out two glasses. She realized he reached up with his left hand. It reminded her that she was there as an employee, not a guest.

  “How’s your shoulder?” she asked.

  “Better,” he said as he filled the glasses. “Still sore, but your tips helped me sleep better.”

  “Good. We should find something to fashion that sling.”

  He put the pitcher back. “Sure. What do you need?”

  “Do you have any old pillowcases?”

  “I’m sure we can find something.”

  They drank their sweet tea, then continued the tour. She tried not to gawk as they walked through the house and Cole gave her a quick overview. It was just beautiful. She loved everything about it. Where she had expected it to be ostentatious and overdone, it was tasteful and welcoming. There was even a reading nook overlooking the back garden that made her swoon.

  It would have been better if she’d hated the place, she mused, her thoughtful gaze on the back of Cole’s head as they walked down a hallway to a closet. This one had a normal door. He opened it, did a quick search, and ended up with a long, beige pillowcase.

  “That’ll work,” she said, taking it from him and holding it up to be sure. She tried to ignore the luscious texture of the linen. “Why don’t you show me the gym? Then I’ll get you hooked up with this sling before I go.”

  “Right this way, mon ami,” he said.

  “Seriously, is that supposed to be French?”

  He grinned and shoved at her shoulder. “I do great accents.”

  “All with a true southern twang.”

  “Harsh. You’re a harsh woman, Everly Wallace.”

  They made their way to another door. This one led to a set of stairs. She realized she’d been wrong about the house being one story. They descended into a daylight basement as large as the entire house, which was at least six thousand square feet. The room they entered was the man cave she’d pictured, but with a pool table, card table, two flat panel televisions, several arcade games, and a full bar. She gaped at the sports memorabilia as they walked through.

  “Is that one of Babe Ruth’s bats?” she asked.

  “Yep. Got a signed baseball, too.”

  “Wow.”

  The next room they reached was the gym. She knew immediately that they wouldn’t need anything else outside of the equipment he already had. This gym gave L.A. Fitness a run for its money. She even saw an indoor pool through a second glass door.

  “This is top-notch, Cole,” she said. “I can’t think of a thing you’re missing.” Her gaze fell on a silver orb in one corner and her eyebrow rose. “Is that a Pilates ball?”

  “Um, yeah,” he scratched his jaw. “I have a personal trainer who swears by it.”

  “Ah. Well, it’ll probably come in handy. Let’s run through a few exercises so that I can determine your range of motion. That way I’ll have the treatment plan in place by Wednesday.”

  She worked with him for ten minutes, gauging pain levels and areas in need of strengthening. When she was satisfied, she said, “Okay. Let’s get you in this sling.”

  Walking him through it, she folded the pillowcase and helped him determine the right angle for his arm to sit in it. Every time she touched his chest or abdomen, she felt that flash of heat she’d experienced earlier by the coat closet. When she got home, she was going to give herself a serious talking to about maintaining her professional distance. There was no way she could treat Cole Parker without drooling on him unless she did that.

  “Are you going to be able to handle binding your arm like this by yourself?” she asked when she was satisfied with the reinforced sling.

  “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 assistanceship 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 elaborate 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 ar
e.”

  “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.