by Dana Nussio
Not far from the intimidating parallel bars, a collection of framed certificates and photographs lined one of the walls. He’d noticed it the first time, but he’d been too busy checking out his therapist to take a closer look. Now that he had some free time while she pretended to study his file, Shane rolled closer to the display.
The certification documents were what he’d expected—one for Natalie Ann Keaton and a few for some other physical therapists. The other documents were thank-you letters and such from pleased clients, but the photos were what interested him most. They were of youth sports teams.
He blinked as he paused on the three wheelchair basketball team photos. In all three photos was none other than Natalie Keaton, wearing a bigger smile than she’d ever given him. He suddenly wondered what it would feel like to have her smile at him that way, but he tucked away the thought where it belonged.
“You’ve found out all of my secrets.”
He started at the sound of her voice, surprised that he hadn’t heard her approach. He’d been off the job too long if his senses were that dull. If nothing else, he should have felt this particular woman’s nearness from the electric jolt she usually gave him.
“You mean that you smile really big when you’re not on the job?” He immediately regretted his words. Now she knew that he’d only been looking at her when he should have at least feigned interest in the other subjects of the photo.
At her frown, he grinned. “Oh, you mean that you coach.”
“Guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
He narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher her comment. “Why shouldn’t it surprise me that you coach wheelchair basketball?”
“Oh... I mean...you know...that I played.”
“How would I know that you played?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She shrugged, but he could have sworn that she scrunched her shoulders more than she had been already. She couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if she’d been standing there beautifully nude instead of wearing those curve-masking scrubs. Then he would have been the uncomfortable one. At least he hoped his body would respond that way to seeing a sexy woman in the altogether. But he couldn’t worry about that now, not when her discomfort over their conversation was still so obvious.
Was this about her height? Sure, she was tall. Her willowy frame had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. Well, not the first, but close to it. Would it surprise her that she wouldn’t look so tall if he were standing next to her instead of sitting?
“What position did you play?” He didn’t know why he asked. He might understand the intricacies of the two-point conversion or a hook-and-ladder play, but he had no clue what happened on a basketball court. Still, it was easier than asking why she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. How could she not know how beautiful she was?
Instead of relaxing over his inane question, she winced.
“Center.”
She watched him as if that admission should mean something.
“Were you good at it?”
She squinted at him as though he’d missed something, but she answered anyway. “High-school good. No D-1 colleges were chasing me, if that’s what you’re asking. Especially when I spent all of my time at practice.”
He lifted a brow. “Why do you say that? Most of my coaches were all about putting in the work.”
“Not that kind of practice. Five hours a day of piano practice.”
“Piano?” He watched her for several seconds, trying to picture her playing. Strange, though—he could just as easily imagine her long and elegant fingers skimming over his skin as floating over ebony and ivory keys.
“But that was a long time ago.”
She turned to study another therapist and his patient as if to signal that the subject was closed.
“Anyway, the Livingston Community Center was trying to build a youth wheelchair basketball team to compete with teams from surrounding counties, and someone suggested that I should coach. Probably because of my game experience and my medical background.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the kids are great, and they work so hard. We have a game tonight.”
“I bet you’re a really good coach.”
He didn’t know why he’d said it, and he had no proof to back up his belief, but the way she smiled at the young faces in those photos told him he was right.
“Well, I’m not being a good PT right now, standing around talking about myself.” She returned to the file in her arms. “We have work to do, so stop wasting time by asking me questions. I’m on to your game.”
He was stalling today for more than one reason, so he appreciated that she didn’t mention the other. Though he allowed her to direct him through the series of exercises, his thoughts were far from the strengthening of weakened muscles. He had so many questions about the woman instructing him that he kept losing count of his repetitions.
He’d planned to keep his distance from Natalie, to see her as his physical therapist and nothing more. But each little thing he learned about her only made him more curious. An athlete who played piano off the court. A tall, beautiful woman who was uncomfortable with her amazing body. A biracial woman who knew precious little about the African-American experience. Her contradictions drew him in as effectively as her beauty had. Possibly more.
Though she’d joked that he’d discovered all of her secrets, he really knew only a few. And he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know them all.
CHAPTER FIVE
LOCAL WOMAN CRITICALLY injured in police chase.
Shane returned to the top of the article on his laptop and read the whole thing a second time. It had been too easy to find in a simple search, yet so much harder to read. Just another high-speed chase with tragic, unintended consequences. Only this time, Natalie and her mother were the innocent bystanders whose lives were forever changed by it.
No wonder Natalie hated cops. She could blame a couple of them for her mother’s injuries. If the woman was even still alive.
Chewing his lip, he returned to the search results and scanned the headlines for follow-up articles. Most were from the initial accident and the ethical questions about whether the officers should have called off the chase once inside city limits. But one article, dated several months later, described a lawsuit for the care of a paraplegic accident victim. Long-term care, meaning she’d still been around to need it. Still another article spoke of a settlement reached as officers involved were cleared of wrongdoing.
At the sound of approaching footsteps behind him, Shane startled, bumping the TV tray and nearly sending the whole electronic setup onto the floor.
Trevor Cole set the tray of food on an end table and hurried to help with the tray.
“Easy there. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yeah.” But Shane closed the laptop instead of showing his frend the results.
Trevor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as he moved the laptop to the other end table and replaced it with the food tray.
“I told you I could do that for myself.” Shane frowned at the sandwich, glass of milk and chopped strawberries.
“I know you did, but I was already getting something for myself.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Shane waved away the other officer’s excuse and took a big bite of his ham sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “But thanks.”
“No problem. Anyway, you were busy doing research for...whatever you were looking for.”
“Just keeping up on the news.” He took a few more bites of the sandwich.
Shane pretended not to notice Trevor’s speculative glance before he returned to the kitchen. It wasn’t anyone’s business what he was looking for, even if he thought Shane was surfing porn. Whether that was better or worse than searching for details on his physical therapist,
he couldn’t decide.
His gaze landed on the laptop again, the last article replaying in his thoughts. Natalie had every reason to be angry at the world. He could even see why she might blame all police officers, since there had been no repercussions for the cops involved. But that didn’t make him like it.
Shane shifted, pushing the plate away.
“Is there something wrong with the sandwich?” Trevor called from the doorway where he’d been standing for who knew how long.
“Just not hungry.”
“You need to keep up your strength.”
If he had a dollar for every time someone had said that these past three months, he could retire today. But he forced down a few more bites of the sandwich, shoved in the strawberries and gulped the milk, so his friend would take away the tray. As soon as Trevor left the room, Shane rolled his chair forward so he could grab the laptop again. This time with the computer balanced precariously on his lap, he glanced at the list of articles again, becoming more perturbed by the minute.
He was guilty of a lot of things, but he refused to take responsibility for someone else’s mistake. It wasn’t fair for Natalie to blame him for the chase. He planned to tell her so the next time he saw her.
“Come to think of it,” he whispered to the computer screen.
He began another search. There were a few things he needed to say to Natalie Keaton, and whether she realized it or not, she’d given him an easy way to do it. Sure, it might fall into a gray area where stalkers were concerned, but she was the one who’d volunteered where she would be tonight. He was only looking up the specifics. Still, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Trevor wasn’t watching from the doorway.
Since there was only one youth wheelchair basketball league in the area, details weren’t tough to find. With just six teams in the league, all games were played at the same gymnasium. This was almost too easy.
He was just writing down the address on a notepad he kept on the end table when Trevor returned, this time empty-handed. Again, Shane shut the laptop.
“You know,” Trevor began, “we’re trained to pick up on when someone is hiding something.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I’m sure, but just let me know if you’re conspiring for world domination or something.”
“Nothing like that.”
Was he really hunting for Natalie to give her a piece of his mind, or was he just looking for a way to see her outside the clinic? He chose not to answer that question.
“Maybe you’re searching for better home care,” Trevor said. “Free help tends to be subpar.”
“I couldn’t get better help if I paid top dollar for it.”
“Then what?”
The wheels in Shane’s mind were turning. His jaw tightened, the reality of his physical limitations battling his need for independence. There was no way he would be able to pull this off without help.
When Shane glanced over again, Trevor was watching him too closely.
“Just let me know what I can do to help.”
This time Shane grinned at him. “How do you feel about watching some basketball tonight?”
* * *
CHATTER AROUND NATALIE died down as she crouched in front of the excited group of boys and girls in Wakefield Elementary School’s new gymnasium, where the Livingston Community center team played all of its games. The players’ outlandishly expensive sports wheelchairs were pressed wheel to wheel for the team pep talk.
“Now, I don’t want any of you to get discouraged. We’ve had a rough season so far, but you’ve played your best, and you’re getting better all the time.” She made eye contact with each of her ten players, giving them her most encouraging smile. “Just go out there and have fun. If we win, we win. And if we lose, we’ll try again next week.”
“But it’s more fun to win,” ten-year-old Lucas chimed.
“Now, Lucas, remember, it’s more important that we learn to play as a team. The other part will come in time.”
“But when?” he whined.
She was beginning to wonder the same thing herself. Most of her players were returning from last season, and the team had finished last year without a single win. Lucas was her best player and hardest worker, so Natalie already knew that if individual efforts could have made a difference, they already would have won.
She leaned down to muss the boy’s mop of tawny hair. “We’ll get there.” She turned back to the whole team. “Now let’s go get ’em.”
“Go, Junior Cats!” they called out in unison.
She wasn’t sure from where they mustered their enthusiasm. These kids faced so many disappointments in their daily lives, from art classrooms with work tables too low for their wheelchairs to fit, to bouncy-house birthday parties to which they weren’t invited. The least she could do was give them a win here, where they were all on a level playing field.
“Yeah, go, Junior Cats! Hoot! Hoot!”
Natalie jerked, and not just because it was the loudest cheer she’d ever heard at a Cats game. A shiver of familiarity shimmied down her spine. But there was no reason for him to be there. She shook away the sensation as she started back to the coach’s bench, but the sound came again, as loud as before.
“Go, Junior Cats! Go, Cats!”
Finally, unable to resist, she turned toward the far end of the bleachers. Parked right next to the rows of seats, Shane grinned and waved at her. Lucas moved to center court for the tip-off, the other starters took their positions and the subs lined their chairs up next to the bench, but Natalie couldn’t move. What was Shane doing here in her life outside the clinic? He had to know that he’d just thrown her a boulder-size curveball as his smile widened. She didn’t recognize the man next to Shane, but even out of uniform, the guy practically had cop stamped on his forehead.
Somehow she managed to give a tight wave before turning to sit on the bench, hiding the heat rushing to her face.
Of course, she’d mentioned the game earlier, but she hadn’t given a time or location. Was she flattered that he’d tracked her down? If she had any instinct for self-preservation, his appearance should have given her the creeps. So why was her discomfort tinged with flutters of excitement?
“Go Coach Natalie!” he cheered this time.
If there was any question as to whether he’d come to see her, that last cheer removed all doubt. Her jaw tightened as resentments from what felt like another lifetime resurfaced as if uncovered by a careless backhoe. Why had Shane come here? He couldn’t know that this was a sensitive subject for her. He had no idea that he was the first person ever to attend one of her games. This was different, of course. She wasn’t even playing. Yet she was nervous and excited and oddly proud, just as she would have been had her mother shown up for even one of her games.
That he’d disturbed her private web of feelings, intricately tied with the fragile thread of buried hurts, only made her angrier. So mad that she missed the tip-off. Only the cheers of the children next to her brought her back.
“Let’s go, Junior Cats!” she called out, relieved that she hadn’t asked for more defense, particularly when one of her players was taking a shot. It bounced off the rim, closer than most of her team’s shots. Even so, she needed to get her head back in the game.
But she couldn’t resist one more look at her unexpected fan. Of course, Shane picked that same time to glance her way. Her face heated. Shane only lifted his arm in silent cheer.
Just for her.
Somehow she made it through to the end of the game, but only by forcing herself to ignore him through all four quarters and the halftime break. She ended the game the same way she’d started it, by encouraging her players.
“You guys played a great game.” She gave them two thumbs-up for emphasis. “You should be proud of yourselves.”
/> “We still didn’t win,” Lucas groused, pointing to the scoreboard where the 32–17 final score still showed. “Somebody didn’t make any baskets at all.” He glanced over at Chase, who looked as if he wished his chair could swallow him.
Natalie frowned. “You know better than that, Lucas. We don’t single out players. We all did our best. And win or lose, we play as a team. Now, I saw some really good stuff out there today. We’ll build on that in practice, and we’ll be even stronger for next week’s game.”
But the solemn looks on all the players’ faces suggested she wasn’t getting through.
“We’d better have extra practice because we really need it,” Kendall, one of the two girls on the team, called from the Natalie’s left side.
“Maybe all night,” piped one of the boys.
The children all murmured their agreement. She was losing them. They were giving up, and she worried she wouldn’t be able to stop it.
“Hey, what are all of those long faces about?”
Natalie turned in the direction of Shane’s voice. She’d been so aware of him throughout the game that it didn’t seem possible that he could have wheeled his chair to the back of her team huddle without her noticing. But there he was.
The children turned their heads first and then swiveled their chairs to face the visitor they’d probably noticed from the sidelines. He was hard to miss.
“Hi, I’m Shane.”
“That’s Mr. Shane,” Natalie corrected.
Shane grinned. “I just wanted to know what all this sadness is about. I saw some good basketball out there. You guys really played your hearts out.”
Had he been watching a different game? If he’d seen any good basketball, it had been from their opponents, but she was grateful for his encouraging words.
“Are you Coach Natalie’s friend?” Lucas wanted to know.
“Do you play basketball, too?” Kendall asked.
Without even receiving answers to their questions, the players suddenly sat higher in their chairs. Even Chase. Their loss was all but forgotten as they watched, with open curiosity, the muscular man, who traveled by wheelchair like they did.