by Traci Hall
“I’m not an invalid.” Heath swallowed, fisting his hands over his thighs.
“I don’t think you are. Sometimes the healing process hurts. Music?” She turned on a pop station that she liked to sing along to, hoping to ease the rising tension in the car.
“No.” Heath finally turned toward her, his mouth white and pinched. “I’m making a mistake. I can’t be your bartender.”
How fast could he get his shit and get on a plane back home? He didn’t belong in flip flops, or somebody else’s shirt. And he sure as hell did not belong in a girly green car with a flower on the antennae like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.
“Why not,” Jolie asked, her pretty smile disappearing.
“Forget breakfast,” he said. He’d thought he could get through the morning, but he couldn’t. Maybe it was the stairs in the boat that was pissing his leg muscles off. He lived over a garage, but there was a wheelchair ramp that he walked up rather than steps. “Take me back to the hotel.”
He knew he sounded like an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. No, he could help it, and being surly because he was in pain wasn’t okay. He imagined Kendra yelling at him to stop being a jerk. He breathed in, counting to five before the red fog in his brain receded. “Please,” he added, his back teeth clenched.
“Well, since you asked so nicely...” Jolie drove right by a big sign that read Crab Shack. “I’d like to point out that four minutes in the car is not enough time to come to life decisions. What happened since we unloaded the dishwasher and you wanted to thank me for a job?”
Wincing, Heath thought of how embarrassed he’d been last night, trying to make the moves on Jolie and having his leg spasm. He’d gone up to the bar after she went to bed and had a few more beers, which was why he felt like crap this morning. He’d talked himself into one hell of a pity party, but then Jolie had come into the galley and made coffee like it was no big deal. He’d dared to think he could try, but his damn leg wouldn’t stop aching. “I made a quick decision to get back at my brother. The wrong one, I think.”
Heath massaged the knotted muscles bunched around his knee cap, and down the back of his calf. Boats rocked. His balance sucked. It would set him back months of physical therapy if he strained something. If it was the stairs setting him off, well, they were unavoidable.
But what in the hell was he supposed to do?
Shrivel up in a ball and die? “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No worries. I’ll just call the temp agency. See if they can hook me up.” She pulled into the hotel parking lot, but stopped before reaching the front doors to let him out. “Want me to come in? I mean, I know you’re going to say no, but I thought I’d offer.” Jolie turned off the car and faced him, her turquoise dress sliding up her thigh. “And even though you didn’t ask, I’m going to tell you something that I learned the hard way.”
He ground his molars together. Really? Now was not the time for advice.
“I’m not sure what happened this morning, since you’re not saying. But I can see that you are in pain. I understand that, believe it or not. I think my cousin can help you. As she explained to me, aquatic therapy allows you to stretch deeper because of the water, which for someone with muscle spasms, would be a good thing.”
Heath opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head.
“Let me finish. Pain management is important for your over-all health. Mental, spiritual and physical.”
Had he misread the signs? Was Jolie some sort of New Age flower child? He knew she had to have a flaw.
“I believe the ocean has healing energy, but if you don’t like it, the therapy can be done in a pool.” Jolie nodded at him, her hazel eyes encouraging.
“I’m fine.” She’s a nut. “I have therapists in Utah.” Let me leave, please.
“But you’re here,” she pressed, leaning toward him and putting her hand on his arm. “And Sabina is talented.”
“Why do you care about my leg?” Heath inched backward, his body against the passenger side door.
“I can’t pretend like I don’t know you.” Jolie’s brows drew together as she frowned. “I’m offering basic compassion for my fellow man. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t want to stay as my bartender. I’m just questioning why. I think it’s because of your injury, and I think my cousin can help. It really is that simple.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” he managed to say as his calf twisted in the worst Charlie Horse imaginable. Heath had his hand on the door, his stomach sick.
“I’m giving you a solution to your lonely summer. Your brother and sister-in-law are gone. You have months before you start your new job. Why not agree to try the therapy so that you go back to Utah stronger than ever?”
Heath opened the door so fast he practically fell out. “I can’t.”
“Heath, what are you doing? Get in and I’ll drop you off.” She leaned over the emergency brake to offer her hand. Her dark brown ringlets came forward over her shoulders, her cleavage all Heath could focus on.
He prayed he didn’t make a fool of himself as he ignored her outstretched fingers and got to his feet.
“You’re crazy. A nice lady, but I’m gonna have to turn your job offer down.” Heath slammed the passenger door shut, Jolie’s expression one of surprise. His leg buckled, but he forced his spine stiff and walked across the hot cement to the cool opening of the hotel doors. The minute he was inside, he looked for the elevator bank and held onto the sour coffee in his belly by sheer will power. As the doors closed behind him, he sank against the empty elevator wall and pushed the number three. His floor. Hurry.
The only saving grace from his humiliating exit was that he didn’t have any luggage.
He’d never have to see her again.
Chapter Six
Jolie pounded the steering wheel of her VW Bug as Heath entered the hotel without looking back. Leather sandals, black slacks, black t-shirt. Dark brown hair in loose waves around his head. Why didn’t he look back? Jolie just couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. It felt wrong.
“Why did I go and offer that advice? He didn’t ask me.” Because he looked so lost, trying to get out of her car. Away from her, so he could suffer in private.
She bit her lower lip, remembering a time when she’d been lost. He thought being happy didn’t take work? Every day was a choice. Some days the choice to smile was harder than others.
Tempted to follow him into the hotel and apologize for butting in, Jolie forced herself to think it through. Just maybe it was none of her business.
Just maybe she’d been attracted to his emotional knots. She liked to fix things. Put on a happy face over the crumbling base. Was it wrong? She’d lived in misery for over a year after her fiancé had walked out on her rather than stay through the agony of losing their unborn child.
She patted her belly. Empty. Flat. As if it never happened. Seven months pregnant, the wedding planned for three months after that, and then sharp needle-like pains in the middle of the night. Cramps. The hospital, the phone calls. No more baby. No reason why. The doctor assured her they could try again, but she hadn’t wanted this one. Not at first.
She hadn’t appreciated her child, and it was taken from her.
The guilt ate at her. At him. He left a month later with a note on the table. Went back to the island.
Jolie didn’t blame him. She’d have left herself too, if she could.
A ringing sound startled her and she reached for her phone from the mount on her dashboard. “Masquerade Party Charters,” she answered, wiping the remnants of tears from her eyes.
“Morning Jolie,” Jamison said.
She smiled at his friendly tone with the underlying Irish accent. “Morning. How are you doing?” Jolie checked her make-up in the rear view mirror to see if it was smudged. Crying messed with her eyeliner—only one of the reasons she hated to do it.
“Well, weren’t you the first one I thought of today when one of the fel
lows brought in some extra Wahoo?”
“Mom’s favorite!” Jolie would be going to the Keys day after tomorrow, unless, miraculously, a job came along. “I’ll bring her some. Hey, did you see the notes I left for you about that strip of sea grass you had me check last week? Rajah and I couldn’t get any water samples because it was raining. I’ll try again on the way out to my parents’ place.”
“Oh, that’s fine, then.” Jamison coughed delicately. “So, who was the handsome young man I saw you leave with this morning?”
Jolie blushed even though she’d done nothing wrong. “That was going to be my new bartender. Well, temporary. Until Benedict comes back.”
“Was? I sense a story.”
“Let’s save it for this afternoon. Come by for a glass of iced tea. I’ll pay you for the Wahoo and tell you my woes.” Jamison always had a shoulder for her to cry on, if needed. In return, she lent a sympathetic ear toward his “bad girlfriend” stories.
“Deal,” he said. “See you later, then.”
Jolie hung up and glanced to the side of the car as something shiny caught her eye. She reached over and pulled a phone from where it had slipped between the seat and the floor.
Heath’s phone. Who else could it belong to?
Her pulse raced at the thought of having a legitimate reason to see him again. Did she park the car in the lot? Go in and drop the phone off at the hospitality desk? He’d made it clear he wanted to be alone, so she probably shouldn’t ask for his room.
“Just do it.” She drove to the shaded lot, parked and got out. She dropped her phone in her purse, shoved her sunglasses on top of her head and locked her car, keeping Heath’s phone in her hand. “It’s not like he won’t want his phone back.”
The fact that she really wasn’t sure if he’d want to see her made her nervous. It wasn’t like she was begging him to work for her—he’d already said no. But maybe she’d convinced him to try the other therapy. When she’d hurt her back, Sabina had really helped.
She went into the hotel, the whoosh of the doors blowing her hair back and the air conditioning giving her immediate frost bite. Were they trying to use the place as a morgue? In case the whole tourist thing didn’t work out?
Jolie made her way to the hospitality desk. The woman was on the phone, so Jolie waited. She heard the bank of elevators open behind her and then Heath’s voice called, “Jolie?”
Turning, Jolie wished she could sink into the ugly red carpet in the lobby. “Hi!” She held out his phone. “I was just going to leave this at the desk.”
“Oh, thank God.” Heath shook his head. He was pale, but his mouth was relaxed instead of pinched. “I thought I’d lost it. Karma.”
She folded her arms around her stomach. “Karma?”
“Yeah. I was an asshole, so I lost my phone.”
“Pretty immediate.” She bit her lower lip as he took the phone from her open palm.
Dressed in a pair of loose jeans, blue sneakers and a blue t-shirt with Brighton Ski Resort on it, Heath parked his suitcase behind him and stuffed his phone in his front jeans pocket. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? In the lobby here?” He pointed to the coffee shop that was part of the hotel. “I’ll even spring for a donut.”
“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Jolie zeroed her expectations so that she could listen and decide what was best for her as a business owner, not a woman interested in a man.
“The chances of me missing that flight are pretty high.”
“Especially if you don’t go to the airport. Can I give you a ride? We can talk on the way.”
“I’m really sorry, Jolie.” His amber eyes reminded her of polished brown sea glass. His dark brown hair curled over his forehead and he had a good half inch of scruff along his jaw and upper lip. “I’d love to buy you a coffee.”
Heath sounded so sincere that Jolie stepped back in confusion. “I don’t know…”
He started walking toward the coffee shop. “I’ll just wait over here while you decide,” he said, his lips turning upward in a beckoning smile, his eyes apologetic.
That smile made her stomach flip. Her common sense flew out the front doors of the hotel lobby. He waited by the coffee shop, and she admitted that while Heath had a physique worth staring at, it was his smile that turned the tables. It dared her to trust him, to listen. To give him another chance. His eyes creased at the corners, weather-worn. Sexy.
She joined him, then passed by him to go inside. Rich ground coffee scented the air. “I could use a cup,” she told Heath, rubbing her arms. “It’s cold in here. You might be used to it, but I don’t do sub-zero temperatures.”
Heath chuckled and put his hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the line.
“A medium dark roast,” Jolie ordered, peeking into the refrigerated case next to the register. “And a cinnamon roll.”
“I’ll have the same,” Heath said, pulling out his wallet. He paid and they took their coffee and pastries to a rectangular table for two away from the door. They set their things down.
“Thank you,” Jolie said, sitting toward the edge of her wooden chair.
“Welcome. Do you want to borrow my sweatshirt?” He patted his suitcase. “I have one, fleece.”
“Normally I would say no, but yes. Please.” Even her toes were cold.
He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a gray zip-up fleece. “Here. It’s been stuffed in a suitcase, so it might be musty.” Heath came behind her and helped her slip her arms inside.
She was immediately warmer. “Thanks. Who knew you’d need your sweatshirt in South Florida during the summer?” Jolie wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and waited for Heath to get settled. “Are you going to try and reschedule your flight?”
Heath took the lid from his coffee and steam wafted upward, carrying with it the scent of French Roast. “I am not a quitter. If I was, I’d never be walking because I promise you it was hard damn work getting out of the wheelchair and doing that physical therapy.”
Jolie waited, sensing he needed to speak.
“You were right, about being alone this summer. Maybe that’s not such a great idea. But you see, I have this leg that’s been cramping more than usual since I’ve been here. I’ve been using the stairs, which I’ve previously avoided.”
Jolie bit her tongue and took a drink of scalding coffee. Just listen.
“Stairs are a part of life, so I was thinking about trying this new aquatic therapy I’ve heard about.” He winked and Jolie rolled her eyes. “But I’d need to work a bit while I give it a shot.”
She blew out a breath. “Just maybe there might be an opening on board my premiere party charter boat for a part-time bartender.”
He drank his coffee, his expression neutral. “Pay?”
“In addition to room and board, you get fifteen bucks an hour plus the tips are all yours. Unless we have an event that requires service staff and then they’ll be split with them. I don’t know the hours until we’re booked. You can have a stool behind the bar, but I expect the person I hire to be friendly. No scowling at the customers. No offending the clients.” She leaned forward on the table so she met him eye to eye. “I’ve seen you smile. I expect you to use it.”
Heath couldn’t very well be offended by her statement since he’d been a jack ass. He knew how to smile. He knew how to be decent. Sometimes the pain got the better of him.
How he reacted to any given situation was up to him. Kendra had pounded that one over his hard head.
As he peered down at the brown liquid in his cup, anything to avoid staring at Jolie, he wondered what to do. He could continue to pay the rent on the apartment above the garage back home, especially since it was dirt cheap and he wouldn’t really have any expenses if he stayed here.
He thought of his dislike of the ocean and shrugged it off. Heath had never imagined himself in a position to be on the water. Not even Cody understood how much he was affected by that wide expanse of blue nothingness.
He
’d been forced to accept a lot of change ever since the skiing accident. Maybe he could accept a little bit more.
“I don’t want you to think I’d go home and drink beer all day. Playing NHL online.”
She smiled. Her lips were full, rosy plump cushions that begged to be kissed. “I didn’t think that.”
“I’ve been working on getting healthy. Maybe the doctors are wrong, you know?”
“About skiing again?”
“Yeah. They didn’t think I’d walk, and yet here I am.”
Jolie grinned. Oval-shaped with black lashes and thin black eyebrows, her hazel eyes vibrant, pretty. She dug into the cinnamon roll with the side of her fork. “I’m sorry for giving you that unwanted advice.”
“It was good advice.” Heath’s chest felt tight, so he took a drink of his coffee. “Listen. I have goals. A job, waiting for me come ski season. Friends to grab a burger with until then. But maybe if I went back without trying this therapy, without testing myself on the ocean, well, I’d feel like I cheated myself.”
She put her fork down and dabbed her lips with the napkin. “That’s very brave, Heath.”
“When I think of brave, I think of soldiers at war. I am a ski instructor.” He blew out a breath. “Was a ski instructor.”
“You still will be teaching, just a different format, right?”
The idea of not being on the hard, packed slopes, killing it down the trails, made him bitter, so he took a bite of his roll, and swallowed it down with coffee. “Yeah. Different. Change is good.”
She smiled, as if remembering their conversation from the night before. “That’s what they say. I mean, change happens, so we might as well look for the silver lining.”
“I’m looking. Hope I found it.” He gently patted his left thigh, nowhere near the ache in his knee and calf. “New therapy.”
“What about your pain management? What are you taking? Maybe it’s time to get the dosage upped.”