by Skye Jordan
“Hers are better,” Noah said, coming up to stand beside them. “But you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“When it comes to women, I take your word for nothing, bro.”
Julia held out her hand, hoping to turn the conversation in a different direction. “I’m Julia.”
Finn took her hand, grip firm, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his mouth. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Before his lips met her skin, Noah smacked Finn’s arm down.
Finn cut a look Noah’s way. “Dude. Your manners suck.”
“Excuse us.” A female voice cut in from behind them.
Noah and Finn turned and faced a woman in her thirties. She held the hand of two young boys, maybe seven or eight years old.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m sure you get this all the time, and if my boys weren’t with me, I wouldn’t stop you, but…” She took a breath, her gaze holding on Noah. “Are you Noah Hunt? My sons are huge fans.”
Finn wrapped his arm around Noah’s shoulders. “He is the one and only, and he thrives on autographs, don’t you, dude?” He released Noah and bent to meet the kids at eye level. “Make sure you ask him to tell you the story about falling head over butt down Blanca Peak in Colorado.” The kids laughed, and Finn patted Noah’s back. “I’ll keep Julia company while you’re busy.”
Noah shot Finn an I’ll-kill-you-later scowl before grinning down at the boys and crouching to their level—a move Julia knew had to hurt.
“Hey, there. What’s your name?” he asked, shaking the kid’s hand.
“I’m Cory. This is my cousin, Cody.”
“Cory and Cody? How does your family keep that straight?” Noah asked as he shook Cody’s hand.
Julia moved on to the next stand while Noah chatted with the kids. “That was quite calculated,” she told Finn. “Can I assume you and Noah aren’t the best of friends?”
“If we weren’t, I’d be on the floor right now.” He put a possessive hand on the cart and smiled at her. “So tell me about the beautiful Julia. Where are you from?”
“San Francisco.” She loaded up on grapefruit, oranges, lemons, and limes. “How do you know Noah?”“We were on the U.S. Snowboarding Team together before he jumped ship for the cash, but we’ve been friends since we were kids.”
“So you grew up in Spokane?”
“Yep.” He pulled one of the limes from her bag, chose a different one, and tossed it in. “That one was dry.”
“What are you? The produce whisperer?”
“I cook a lot. Only have to get a few dry limes to know how to pick the juicy ones.”
Julia was pretty sure his hot smile exposed an intended double entendre. She wandered toward the vegetables and packed spinach into a bag. “I hope Noah picks up your gourmet vibes. He’s getting a cooking lesson tonight.”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna make?”
“Depends on what Noah likes.”
“He eats anything. Absolutely no culinary standards.”
She laughed and glanced over at Noah again. He stood behind the older kid now, holding his arms wide and walking him through the moves of some boarding stunt in the lobby of Safeway. Customers seemed more entertained than annoyed, stopping to watch the pair. That strange spot in the middle of her chest heated up again.
“Does he really like kids?” she asked. “Or is that all for show?”
“He loves kids. I had to take his place at a few clinics this year because of his leg, and by the time I was done teaching a bunch of spoiled brats, I wanted to hang myself. Not him. He goes into a depression every year when the kids leave.”
“Did you and Noah do a lot together before his accident?”
“Saw him almost every day. We worked out together, hopped bars together, boarded together. That fall really put a dent in his social life.” Finn turned a subdued grin on Julia. “But he’s alive, right? A lot of guys aren’t so lucky. Especially guys who do the crazy-ass shit Noah does. He was damn lucky it was his ankle and not his neck.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Light applause drew her gaze. Noah stood beside the boy, grinning like a kid himself. With his hip cocked, hand lifted overhead, waving a “hang loose” sign, Noah grinned down at the boy, who imitated him like a miniature mirror.
“I’m thinking of getting some of his friends together to work out,” she said to Finn. “I’m a pretty good coach, if you’re interested. Could give you guys a good workout, and it would save me from doing every workout with him, which would probably kill me.”
“If you’re the daily eye candy, count me in. I can round up the guys.”
“Great.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and handed it to him. “Add your number. I’ll let you know when he’s ready for company.”
She glanced toward the entrance as Noah gave both kids some complicated fist-bump-handshake thing before searching the produce section. When his eyes found hers, his shoulders relaxed and he started forward—still limping.
When he reached them, he gave Finn’s back an extra hard smack. “Good to see you, buddy. Now, get lost.”
“Nah, nah, Julia and I were just talking about what we’re making for dinner.”
Noah’s gaze cut to hers. “Tell me he’s kidding.”
She lifted her brows and tossed the spinach into her cart. “He tells me he’s quite the cook. Thought I might take the night off and let him feed you.”
“Uh-uh, you agreed to cook for me.”
She exaggerated a frown and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling feigning thought. “I don’t recall…”
“It was a verbal agreement.”
She took her phone back from Finn. “He’s had a rough day of contract negotiations. We’ll take a rain check on a group dinner. I’ll call you soon.”
“Perfect.” Finn turned to Noah and smacked his arm as he passed. “Later, dude.”
Before Noah took his bad mood out on her, she pushed the cart toward the back of the store. “I’ll have to give you a lecture on vegetables during therapy this afternoon. Right now, we’re headed toward the meat department. All you need to know about meat is three things: free range, grass fed, and wild.”
She glanced over to where he walked beside her, his gaze a little confused…but it could also have been the glaze of pain. “Hello?”
“I’m here, I’m here.”
She didn’t expect him to pick this stuff up first time around anyway. “Free-range chicken and eggs aren’t perfect, but on the whole, they’re more nutrient dense than those commercially raised. Grass-fed beef reduces inflammation-inducing grains in your diet. And wild seafood is higher in Omega-3 fatty acids, which you’ll learn more about in another lecture.”
“I really dislike the word ‘lecture.’ Just, you know, FYI.”
“Thanks for the update.” She slowed in front of the curved glass case enclosing meat and fish, and Noah’s phone rang. Julia leaned on the cart. “Tell your girlfriends you’re out of commission, please. If they keep calling and interrupting, I’m going to take your phone.”
“Like hell.” He tapped the face and put the phone to his ear. “Hello. Yep. Uh-huh. You sure? Okay. Thanks.” And he disconnected. He stuffed the phone away, grumbling, “PG&E fixed the line to the guesthouse.”
“It’s got power?” Her body released tension. She wouldn’t have to sleep downstairs from him tonight. Thank God. A woman could only be so strong. “Perfect. This day is working out pretty well, after all.”
“Funny.” He stared into the case. “I was just thinking how this day has been one screwup after another.”
“And it’s only half-over.” She waited for his scowl to turn her way, then hit him with her brightest grin. “Only five weeks and six days to go.”
Noah pulled into the garage, pushed the SUV into park, and sighed. Home. He was finally home. What a pathetic picture he made—one workout, one trip to the grocery store, and he wanted to slide into his hot tub and never come out
.
He hurt everywhere. His leg ached in ways he couldn’t even comprehend. Worse than it had in months. An uncomfortable shadow cluttered the back of his mind. Yes, Julia was a walking encyclopedia on nutrition and health, but his body was telling him he’d done too much. And he still had dozens and dozens of grocery bags to unload. Christ, the woman could shop.
“I’ll get the bags later,” Julia said, opening her door. “Right now I want you in the gym.”
“Whoa, wait a—”
Click. Her door closed.
He shut down the engine and pushed from the car. “I just spent a thousand dollars on food. I’m not leaving it out here.”
She paused on the threshold between the mudroom and the garage. “It’s colder out here than it is in your fridge. The food is fine; your leg’s not. The Tylenol isn’t cutting it today.”
He blew out a breath and started toward the house but had to take the stairs one at a time because his bad ankle would barely bend.
“Jesus Christ.” He stopped to shift his weight off his foot. “My leg hasn’t been this bad since my incision got infected. You’re supposed to be making me better, not worse.” He turned an openly angry look on her. “How much is Epic paying you to mess me up?”
She tilted her head and exhaled dramatically. “Normally, I would have explained up front that you would probably feel worse before you saw improvement, but nothing about this job has been normal. So, let me tell you now, rehab is not for wimps.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a wimp?”
“I have to correct a potentially career-ending injury in addition to months of misuse. I’m sorry, but the reality is, there’s no easy way to do that. I may make you miserable, but I’ll also bring you relief, and the end result will be healing, strength, and balance.” She turned into the mudroom and passed into the kitchen, calling, “Change into shorts, and I’ll meet you in the gym.”
He hobbled into the hallway and looked at the stairs leading to his room. So many damn stairs. His mood turned black. “Screw shorts.”
He headed toward the gym, where he found her crouched beside the portable exam table she’d dragged from her car earlier, the kind masseuses used. He unfastened his jeans and shoved them down his legs, then pulled his feet free.
When she turned to face him, she took one look, and lifted her arms to the sides. “Noah.”
“What? These are shorts.” He gestured to his cotton boxer briefs. “Sort of. Besides I’m not going up those stairs until you fix what you broke.”
She pulled a sheet from a duffle at her feet, muttering something he didn’t hear, nor wanted to hear, and snapped it onto the table’s four corners, then gestured to the flat expanse. “On your back.”
“I like the sound of that.” But he tested the table’s stability first.
“I’ve had bigger guys than you on that table,” she said. “It’ll hold three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle.”“Don’t like the sound of that.” Just another reminder he was nothing special to her. She worked with hard bodies and thick wallets day in and day out. Probably slept with her fair share of them too. The whole “I don’t sleep with clients” was nothing but a smoke screen she hid behind when choosing who she wanted to sleep with and when.
And as he levered himself onto the table and shimmied around to lie down on his back without putting pressure on his bad leg, his mind scanned their night together, searching for what caused her to pull away from him now. He lay back and closed his eyes, trying to relax. But he saw her as she’d been the night before, perfectly naked, collapsed on him after an amazing ride. It had been good for her too—the whole night, not just one ride.
He did everything humanly possible to make sure every woman left his bed satisfied.
Usually, that was a pride thing. An ego boost. But with Julia… He shook his head and scraped a hand through his hair. With Julia, it had been even more important, and in a whole different way.
But the pain in his leg was seeping in, and he couldn’t think anymore.
“This is warm.” Her soft voice slid into the muck and cleared his mind like a fresh breeze. Then her hands slid over his lower leg, wiping something slick along his skin. “Just relax. Nothing I’m doing will hurt.”
The reassurance helped. Her voice helped. But what really made him release all tension and sink into the padded table was her touch. The simple act of having her hands on him made his worries drift, his anger vanish, and filled Noah with a deep sense of well-being.
He sighed and dropped his forearm across his eyes. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Four years,” she said, her voice smooth and relaxed as if the act gave her the same sense of relief as it did Noah.
“What about before Performance?”
“Performance was my first job as a therapist.”
“Your first job out of school, and you landed one with such a high-profile company?” he said. “How’d that happen?”
She probably slept with someone. He knew how the world worked—success amounted to contacts, favors, and cash. Sure, someone had to have the base talent to begin with, but lots of people had talent. Talent or a contact might get your foot in the door, but favors got you all the way in.
“Same way it happens for everyone,” she said. “I applied, interviewed, got the job.”
He lifted his arm and opened his eyes, glancing down at her where she pushed her hands along the sides of his calf. Her sweater gapped a little at the neckline, giving Noah nothing but a tease of what lay beneath. “They let a little girl right out of school work on multimillion-dollar athletes? I don’t think so.”
She gave him a heavy-lidded, disgusted look. “You just refuse to give me the benefit of the doubt. Guess time will tell for you. Hold on, this will be uncomfortable at first.”
He propped himself up on his elbows as Julia stepped forward and pressed the bottom of his foot to the center of her fuzzy sweater and her taut abs beneath. She crisscrossed her thumbs over an indention in his foot just in front of his ankle.
“Hey, my incision—”
“Is completely healed, and I’m not even close.” She pressed on the pressure point while flexing his foot by leaning toward him.
He sucked air and tensed, expecting a jolt of pain, but only stiff pressure tugged at his foot and leg. She eased back and released her hands, giving him a second of rest.
“Your range of motion sucks.” She repositioned, pressed his foot into a flexed position by pushing down on that indention again, this time harder. He felt the same pressure and a wide stretch in his ankle.
“Sucks is another technical term, right?”
“Very technical.” She repeated the motion another half dozen times, each pass bringing more flexibility and reduced pain. Noah’s tension melted little by little until he collapsed back against the table and let relief slide through his tense shoulders.
“Oh yeah. Much better.” He breathed deeper. His arms hung looser. His mind opened. Whatever she was doing gave Noah a sense of deep comfort. A glimmer of hope.
She stepped to the side of the table, her sure fingers probing behind his ankle and heel. “God. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a client with an ankle so messed up.”
“More stellar medical language.” He rolled his head toward her. “What does ‘messed up’ mean to me?”
“It means we have a lot of work to do to fix it. Or at least minimize its limitations. Scar tissue is a sort of patch that the body creates to protect and heal itself. But it’s dense and stiff, which restricts motion and causes pain. It’s the reason you can’t walk up the stairs, and, most likely, the reason you’re not out on the slopes again yet. And, yes, more forms with a shitty diet.” She gave his shin a light slap. “Roll over.”
“Will you smack my ass too?”
“Over.”
Once he was on his belly, head resting on crossed arms, she poured more warm goop on her hands and rubbed it from his heel to the back of his knee. The way her
fingers kneaded the sore muscle with smooth strength made a long, low groan slide from Noah’s throat. Made his eyes close in relief.
“Just sayin’, this brings back amazing memories,” he said. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, uses their hands like you.”
She remained silent and focused. And as her strong thumbs eased the tight knot in his calf, Noah’s mind drifted to the feel of her hands smoothing that slick, warm oil over his skin, and remembered the way she’d mastered the stroke of his cock last night. He moaned—partly at the memory, partly at the feel of her hands releasing the knot in his calf now. But in his mind, he saw her straddling his thighs, the tender folds of her sex exposed and plump, while her talented hands did things he’d never experienced before. And for a guy who’d been around, that was saying something pretty spectacular.
He tried to think about something else. Something negative. His mind darted back to the meeting with Guru that morning. Damn, that had pissed him off, getting sideswiped by those questions about his rehab. Then he thought about how perfectly timed Julia’s entrance had been, how she’d said and done just the right thing to distract them, and his anger softened.
“I’m going to try something…” Her words trailed off, and her warm touch disappeared from his skin.
Noah propped himself up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder at her rummaging in her bag. Then she popped back to her feet with something metal in her hand.
“Whoa,” he said, tilting up on one hip to see her better. “That looks a little like a set of brass knuckles, only silver.” The metal had a hole in the center where her hand went through, allowing her to grip the tool. “I’d rather not be used as a guinea pig, if you don’t mind.”
“I use this all the time.”
“Then why did you say try something?”
“Because everyone’s different. Techniques and tools I’ve used on some patients might or might not work on others. That’s one of the things I love about this job. Every patient is a new challenge.” She rounded the table again and spread more goop on his skin. “You’re so high maintenance.”
She held up the tool for Noah’s inspection. The metal was thin and flat, with several shaped and curved surfaces. “This is a tool for instrument-assisted soft tissue mobilization. There are several different kinds, but I use this one the most. Lie flat,” she said, using the tool to tap his hip. When he was belly down on the table again, she continued. “It helps me reach fascia deep beneath your skin. It may be a little uncomfortable, and you may have some bruising in the area tomorrow, but if this works, you’ll see quick results. I’m basically unlocking the tissues, which will do all sorts of beneficial things, but right now, I’d like to get fluid flowing.”