by Cari Quinn
With his arm still in the sling and his butt now in the trunks, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, her fingers trailing in the water.
“Okay, Doc. Let’s get this over with.”
She jumped. A yelp accompanied the windmill impersonation she used to keep her from falling into the water.
Did it make him a bastard he was disappointed she didn’t go for a swim?
Chapter Six
Frankie hadn’t been prepared to see Xavier in his near naked glory. Sure, she’d seen his body before. Hell, at one time she’d seen every slicked-up inch of him. She hadn’t been able to get that particular image out of her head. No matter how hard she’d tried. And she was afraid her perverted mind would never release the image standing in front of her either.
Xavier looked great in clothes, but out of them—She swallowed hard. Out of them, he was exquisite. Lots of toned muscles and tanned skin.
One side of his mouth quirked. “You ready for me?”
She pursed her lips, mostly to keep the drool contained in her mouth, and leaned over to turn the water off. “I hope I’ve gotten the temperature right.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He gave her a full on grin that did funny little things to her belly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“What?”
“You still seem a little woozy and I’m concerned—”
“You’re concerned?”
“I thought you understood. That’s why you’re wearing the trunks.” She waved her hand at the blue and white striped suit, but made sure to keep her eyes on his face. She stepped toward him and wrapped her hand around his strong forearm, urging him inside the suddenly shrinking room. “Let me help you get the brace off and get you into the tub.”
He stood still as a Grecian statue while she made quick work of all the Velcro.
“Be careful not to move it.”
He groaned.
“How does it feel?”
A one-shouldered shrug.
She gripped his elbow and tried to move the mountain. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, each gust smacking her in the face with the force of a hurricane. He jerked his arm out of her hold and stepped into the bathtub, unassisted.
As he dipped down into the water, his scowl froze her from the inside out. “Are you just gonna hover over me?”
Instead of snapping back at him, she closed the toilet seat lid and sat down. She looked at her cuticles. Man, she needed a manicure. Examined the grout lines between the floor tiles, the ones right next to the cabinet were larger than the rest. One of the hickory cupboard doors had a knot that kinda looked like a bird’s eye.
A low, annoyed grunt brought her attention back to the shark sloshing in the tub. His smile surprised her. “Sorry for being an ass.”
“But you do it so well.”
He laughed. “Tell me about your family.”
“My family?”
“Yeah, I don’t know much about you, Doc, and I’d like to know about your family.”
She stared at him for a moment, her mind racing. She didn’t want to get personal with him, but found her mouth opening. “It’s just me and my mom.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He left before I was born.”
“Wish I could have been so lucky.” He bent his leg and ran the bar of soap over this calf then up under the fabric of his trunks to his thigh underneath.
She looked at her nails again and cleared her throat. “You don’t get along with your father?”
“I didn’t, no. He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” A lot of men said crap like that, but few meant it. When she met his gaze, not an ounce of remorse dampened his hazel eyes.
“How long has he been gone?”
One massive shoulder lifted in a slow shrug. “A while. Are you and your mom close?”
“Yeah. We still live in my childhood home.” Boy, that made her sound like a real winner.
He smiled and she didn’t have to guess what he’d ask next. “You still live at home? With your mom?”
His laugh caused every inch of her skin to flush a bright red. Of course he’d laugh at her living arrangements. It shouldn’t make her defensive. She didn’t really care about his opinion of her. Couldn’t care less.
“She’s sick,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
His humor disappeared faster than if she’d slapped the grin off his face. “Is she okay?”
Of all the things she wanted to be discussing with Matthias Xavier, this topic sure as hell wasn’t one of them. She tried to keep her personal life away from Rockets Field. Only a handful of higher-ups knew why she didn’t go on the road with the team. And she’d always intended on keeping it that way.
“She’s fine.”
His stare scorched her, urging her to continue. The next thing she knew, she opened her mouth to explain. “She had polio as a kid. For the most part she’s fine. No issues, except for a slight limp. But sometimes she gets really tired and her muscles ache. Other times she can barely move.”
“Oh, man, Doc, I’m really sorry to hear that.” The sympathy sparkling in his eyes brought tears to hers. She wasn’t usually affected when other people offered compassion. But then … yeah.
* * *
Frankie got real quiet. He recognized the shutdown because he’d done it himself thousands of times. Obviously talking about her mother wasn’t something she did often, and he’d bet there wasn’t another guy who wore Rockets blue who knew about her residential situation.
“My dad forced my mom to walk away when I was three.”
Her head jerked up, her eyes watery when their gazes clashed. “That’s awful.”
“He paid her to leave.” He shrugged, stamping down the hurt. “And she left.”
“She never tried to contact you?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I blamed her for a long time until I realized what he’d done. The bastard got married three more times and drove those wives away, too. When the last one left, I was old enough to know what really happened. My dad thought I was stupid. I wasn’t. I have a half sister I haven’t seen since she was four-years-old.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” He turned the bar of soap over and over in his palm, creating white foam that dripped off to splat on his leg. “I have no idea where she is.”
Silence stretched. Xavier watched as another blob of suds landed on the dark blue of his swim trunks. The tiny bubbles popped until the last one disappeared. He hadn’t talked about how much he missed the sister he’d only known for a few short years. To anyone. Ever.
His heart thudded in his chest and his eyes burned. Memories of his sister flooded back. Vividly. In his mind’s eye he saw her tiny fingers wrapped around his bigger ones, her chubby round cheeks dimpled with a smile, and her dark brown eyes twinkling when she laughed. He still loved her.
“Xavier?”
He blinked and a fat tear slid down his cheek. Well, shit. He’d done it again. He wiped at his eyes and cheeks with his right hand. He winced at a jab of pain in his shoulder, but the pain in his soul was worse, made excruciating because of his audience.
“After my mom left, Grandma took over. She became my world. I loved her.”
“Past tense?” Frankie whispered.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded and kicked his foot out at the water. “She left me when I was fifteen.”
“She left, too?” Her voice went chipmunk in its accusation. “Who are these people? Did your dad pay her off, too?”
“Grandma died.” He chanced a look at her and wished he hadn’t.
Her eyes popped wide. Her cherry red lips fell open. She shook her head. “She didn’t leave you, Xavier. I’m guessing she would have stayed if she could have.”
“I know.”
&nbs
p; Unable to deal with her pity a moment longer, he stood. Water rushed down his legs like it’d been dumped from a bucket. The whoosh made Frankie jump. She hurried to stand in front of him, reaching out to steady him. He jerked back and shook his head.
“Frankie, I need some time alone.”
He expected her to argue, to give a thousand reasons why he needed her help, but she only placed a hand against his chest, offered a slight smile, and turned to leave him alone.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
When the door closed with a soft click, he moaned and slid his thumbs—both thumbs—into the waistband of his trunks and forced them off his hips. Water splashed over the side of the tub. He cursed, then stepped over the edge and dug his pruned toes into the black rug covering the tile.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d lived a good, long damn time with his emotions in check and under control. Frankie strolled into his life and he turned into a freakin’ chick. He needed to find his mojo, and he was afraid getting his shoulder back in shape would be the only way to do it.
And that meant Frankie wasn’t going anywhere.
Perfect.
Freakin’ perfect.
Chapter Seven
Over the last week, Xavier had managed to keep from crying again. She’d worked his arm, doing pendulum exercises, until he’d laid his tongue to language capable of making a sailor blush. Sailors maybe, but not Frankie.
He’d gotten pretty good at eating with his left hand. Three yellow rectangles floated around his cereal bowl and he fished them out one by one. He heard her coming down the stairs and wondered how long she planned on staying.
“Good morning.” She rounded the corner dressed in scrubs. Again. Did she even own a pair of jeans?
“Mornin’.” He grunted, nodding his head.
Her face was freshly washed, her hair still damp in its tight ponytail. Tennis shoes dangled from her fingers, swaying with her walk. She plopped down into the chair next to him and dropped the shoes to the floor. The bright pink on her toes rivaled Bazooka bubblegum dotted with dainty white flowers. She bent her knee, resting her heel on the edge of her chair. Sliding the white footie sock onto her foot, she looked up at him.
“Are you okay if I leave you alone for a little while?”
His laugh came out a bark. “How old do you think I am?”
She laughed. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I won’t be gone long, and you’ve got my cell and—”
“Where you goin’?”
“I have to go to my office and catch up on some paperwork.”
“At the stadium?”
She raised a brow in a silent Duh!
“Can I come?”
Her other brow shot up and she shrugged. “Ah, sure. I didn’t think you’d want to.”
“Why not?”
Another shrug.
He grinned, feeling like his old self for the first time since blowing out his shoulder. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his bowl before crossing the kitchen to put it in the sink. “Give me ten minutes to change my pants.”
Running up the stairs did wonders for his mood. The slight jostle of his shoulder ached a bit, but the brace held it tight against his torso, keeping it from moving too much. His legs thrived on the pumping of his muscles as his stride ate up two stairs at a time. His blood rushed through his veins and his lungs heaved with the breath racing through them. He missed this, missed working out. He could already feel himself going soft.
And God help him, he would never be soft again.
Quick change from pajama bottoms to nylon workout pants and he headed back downstairs. He’d need help with tying his shoes, and if it meant working out a bit, he’d accept Frankie’s help. Without argument. Just this once.
He sank onto the couch and started to tug on his socks. Holy shit, the phrase easier said than done had become his theme song. The elastic part of his white tube sock caught on his big toe. He tugged. It stretched, then popped off, flying through the air to land on the silk decorative tree standing sentinel next to his fireplace.
A few choice four-lettered words didn’t help the situation but sure as hell made him feel better. He picked up the other sock and tried again, tugging—carefully this time—inching, bunching the cotton up over his toes.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and he yanked on one side, then the other, going back and forth until the sock snapped for the final time over his calf.
The urge to jab his fist in the air and shout in victory nearly overwhelmed him. He was about to do just that when he realized he’d only accomplished half the mission. Deep sigh, a wipe of the brow, and Xavier stood.
After plucking the sock from its perch, he went back to the chair and plopped down. When did putting a damned pair of socks on rank right up there with running a marathon? Hell, an inside the park homerun around the bases never winded him like this pitifully simple task.
With a few quick breaths to psych himself up, he began the inch, scooch, bunch, and pull until the other sock snapped into place. He shoved one foot into his Nikes and was just about to do the same thing with the other one when Frankie strolled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
Her eyes widened. Her lips lifted at the corners. She nodded. Approval.
That urge to jab his fists toward the heavens and roar simmered just below the surface again. Instead of making a fool of himself, he thrust his other foot into his shoe and stood.
She dropped the towel on the coffee table and rounded the couch. She patted him on the chest. The light tap did wonders for his ego. “Would it be okay if I tied them for you?”
In that moment, he wanted to gather her in a hug and hold her tight against him. That she hadn’t mentioned his socks, although she had to’ve known it hadn’t been easy, made him like her even more. She didn’t give kudos, laugh or act like he was a child, needing her to tie them. She’d simply asked his … permission.
All he could do was nod. His throat tightened a bit and he coughed in an attempt to loosen it up.
She sank to her knees and he studied the top of her head. He’d never noticed the strands of auburn running through the honey blond. He wondered what her hair looked like when it wasn’t pulled back in a stupid rubber band. He realized how badly he wanted to reach around and free her hair. His fingers balled into fists to make them behave.
Ridiculous.
She thumped his foot and he looked down just as she looked up. Their gazes locked, mingling, hazel devouring blue, and Xavier couldn’t breathe. Time seemed to stop. Except she moved closer, in a moment her lips would be…
She blinked, and like sunlight hitting fog, the moment vanished.
“Ready?” She turned and grabbed the dishtowel, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned in a flash, sans towel, her purse hanging from her arm, his keys dangling from her finger.
“Sorry, big boy, but you can’t drive. I’ll be gentle with your car.” She laughed and headed off toward to garage.
Her nonchalance bugged him. Obviously their moment hadn’t been anything special to her. Perfect. He’d gotten all sappy over a woman. It’d been years since he’d made that mistake. He’d be damned if he’d allow her to break his heart.
And yet, like a lost puppy, he followed her.
* * *
This sucked.
When Frankie’d been surprised he’d wanted to go with her to the stadium, he wondered if she was smokin’ something to give her the munchies. Now, he got it.
Weights clanking pinged off the cement walls. He’d loved that sound. Once. Now, it depressed him. A deep misery settled in his gut and made him want to plow his fist into the wall or puke.
He should have just stayed home. He’d heard SpongeBob SquarePants was entertaining.
“Lookin’ good, X!”
Xavier looked up from the pine bench where he’d been hiding out in the hallway into the smiling, way-too-damn-cheerful face of Pierce. He wanted to deck him. All his happy-happy-joy-joy on
ly intensified the assburn. It was a good thing he liked the guy, but liking him didn’t stop Xavier’s scowl.
“Yeah, I’m a real looker.”
Grayson laughed, plucked his hat off to run his fingers through his hair. He put the white and blue hat back on and repositioned the brim. “Seriously, man, it’s good to have you back in the gym.”
Xavier wagged his arm, the brace making it more of a clipped chicken wing. The bone-deep bitterness seeped into his laughter. “A lot of good it’s doin’ me.”
Pierce shook his head, laughing. “Don’t be such a baby about it.”
Fury, white hot and consuming, spread through him fast as a match strike. Every muscle tightened, readying itself for combat.
“X. Xavier, dude, you okay?”
He blinked, shook his head and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“You’re definitely not fine. I thought for a second you were gonna leap off that bench and tear me apart. Or try to. Maybe Frankie needs to lower the dosage on your meds.” Another hat removal, hand through hair move.
“I’m fine.” He was such a frickin’ liar.
“Look at you. You’re huffin’ and puffin’ like you’re ready to go toe-to-toe and blow my house down.”
“I’m fine.”
Just then Frankie sauntered out of her office and down the hallway. She smiled at Grayson then winked at Xavier. His damned heart jumped.
“How’s it going, Grayson?”
Although Pierce was happily married with three beautiful little girls, when he smiled at Frankie, Xavier wanted to deck him. Again. Hell, maybe his meds did need to be adjusted.
“Good. Real good. Last night’s win was a tough one. But a win is a win. I’ll take it. How’s my boy?”
“Stubborn.” Frankie’s adorable smile twinkled in her eyes. The two shared a chuckle, spiking Xavier’s annoyance.
“Ha ha. You two are a riot a minute. Would you like some popcorn to eat while you stand there and mock me?”