Fooling Around

by Noelle Adams

  “You can unpack later. I need someone to help me in the office who isn’t going to drive me crazy.”

  Even grumpy and incapacitated as he was, he was still ridiculously good-looking. He had medium brown hair, strong features with a square jaw, and eyes of a lovely warm brown. His injury did nothing to hide the size and strength of his body. He wore a T-shirt and track pants with one leg cut to accommodate the cast.

  Julie idly wondered if she’d be responsible for helping him change clothes.

  “I’m happy to help,” she murmured. She was starting back toward the office when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Not yet. I have to go to the damned bathroom first. It’s the biggest pain in the ass.”

  She was tempted to chuckle at his aggrieved tone and his choice of words, but she managed to suppress the instinct. “Okay. I still don’t know my way around this place.”

  “There’s a bathroom right here,” Eric said, gesturing toward the first door past the office.

  Julie opened the door and saw a pair of crutches propped just inside. She sighed with relief, since they seemed to indicate that Eric could basically get himself to the toilet on his own.

  She was willing to do what she needed to earn the money, but she wasn’t too keen on bathroom duties—especially for some strange man.

  Since she figured a man like him would prefer to not feel too dependent, she grabbed one of the crutches and positioned it so he could use it for support as he raised himself up. He was grumbling and cursing under his breath as he balanced himself on the crutches, but he seemed to be mostly stable, so she ducked out of the bathroom and closed the door.

  If he needed help, he could ask her, but she’d learned from taking care of her father that it worked better if she acted like he could do it himself. Her mother had been different. Her mother would seldom ask for help, so Julie had had to predict when it was needed and when it wasn’t.

  She’d evidently chosen the right strategy. Eric didn’t call through the door for help, and eventually she heard the toilet flush.

  When he swung the door open, he looked winded and strained, his face paler than it should have been and a slight sheen of perspiration on his skin. In his condition, even the effort of using the crutches and getting to the bathroom was a real ordeal. She didn’t need to ask him if he was all right. He obviously wasn’t comfortable, but that was the way it was. She just positioned the wheelchair where it would be convenient for him to lower himself back in.

  His leg really was in the way. The cast went the entire length of it. She would have hated to wear something like that for so long. She might have felt a flicker of sympathy had he not been peering at her like she was some curious specimen.

  “You’re not going to ask me how I’m doing?” he demanded in a gruff voice.

  She raised her eyebrows, pretty sure he was asking the question just to see how she’d react, just to get a rise out of her. “Why would I? You’re obviously fine,” she murmured as she got out of the way so he could steer his chair back down the hall to the office.

  He narrowed his eyes but just made a wordless sound in his throat.

  Kristin was in the office when they returned. She appeared to be sorting through a pile of papers on the desk. The office was as expansive and elegant in a minimalist way as the rest of the condo, with another wall of windows, floating bookshelves, and a few pieces of low furniture.

  “This is paperwork that has piled up in the last couple of weeks, since I broke the damned leg. I need to get through it this morning.” Eric gestured toward the stuff Kristin was organizing.

  Julie just nodded, thinking it seemed like a project more appropriate for Kristin to help him with, since she was his real assistant. But maybe she was getting on his nerves. Her expression definitely looked disapproving.

  Eric was about to say something more when his phone rang and Kristin reached to pick it up. After hearing the greeting on the other end, she lowered the phone and said, “Mike Hart.”

  “Damn it,” Eric muttered. “I’ve got to take this.” Focusing on Kristin, he added, “Can you go find out what happened to the package?”

  Julie moved out of the way as he rolled over to grab his phone, and Kristin left the office entirely. So Julie was just standing near the desk with nothing to do as Eric had a curt conversation with the guy on the phone, who was evidently not performing up to Eric’s standards.

  Looking around, Julie decided it was no wonder Eric was in such a bad mood. Despite the beautiful design of the office, it looked cluttered and messy, with pills and medical supplies on various surfaces, several cushions tossed around that had apparently been tried and discarded, and four different half-drunk glasses of various beverages on the desk.

  Figuring she might as well do something while she waited, she collected all the pill bottles and lined them up on a lovely Chinese cart that she could push out of the way until he needed them. Then she checked the temperature of the drinks and, since they were all lukewarm, she carried them into the kitchen and got him a cold bottle of water. She didn’t know what to do with the cushions, so she gathered them up and hid them behind a low sofa, so at least they wouldn’t be littered around. She straightened up the desk surface and lowered the blinds halfway so the sun wouldn’t be right in their eyes.

  Eric’s conversation was evidently getting more and more frustrating. She cringed slightly when he raised his voice, saying, “If you don’t get it in order by the end of next week, I’ll be finding someone else.”

  She didn’t care to be yelled at, but it was likely to happen, given Eric’s attitude and the length of time she’d be working for him.

  When Eric hung up, he sat and stewed silently for a minute, so Julie just waited for him to look up again.

  He was frowning as he finally did. “What happened in here?”

  “I straightened up a little.” She wasn’t going to apologize. It felt a lot better in here than it had before.

  He took a swig of the water she’d brought him. “Okay. Whatever. Help me get through this stuff. I hate paperwork crap like this. I’m an ideas man. Not a details man.”

  She had absolutely no idea what the piles of papers were or what he needed to do with them. Some instructions would have been nice. Kristin needed to come back here and give her some direction.

  With no help in sight, Julie picked up one of the piles and glanced through it. “These appear to be contracts.”

  “Yeah, my legal folks have already been through them. I just need to give them a final once-over and sign.”

  “Okay. Do you want them one at a time?” She handed him the set of papers at the top of the pile.

  If he was just going to be reading through contracts, there wouldn’t be anything for her to do but sit here and pass him each one. She was definitely going to need a chair.

  She found a side chair that moved easily and brought it over close to his wheelchair, near the desk, where she could reach the next pile of papers.

  She watched as Eric stared down at the first page of the contract he was holding. He was still sweating a little, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she found a damp cloth and wiped his brow.

  She amused herself for a minute with that image, until she caught him glancing up at her, his eyes narrowed in that way he had.

  She hoped it hadn’t looked like she was laughing. He definitely wouldn’t appreciate that.

  When his eyes lowered again, she noticed he appeared to have trouble focusing. He rubbed his eyes once, and he kept sighing and glancing through to see how long the contract was.

  She’d looked discreetly at the pill bottles and seen that his pain medication was the heavy-duty stuff. Her father had been prescribed the same thing, and it had made him incredibly dopey.

  It was probably hard for Eric to focus on details while he was on the medication.

  She waited quite a long time, until he’d finally finished the first contract. He was frowning as he signed it and passe
d it back to her.

  She picked up the second one on the pile. It was even longer than the first. “I could read them out loud,” she offered, “if that’s easier.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “That would be fine.”

  She started on the first one and realized she’d gotten herself into the dullest possible task she could imagine. Contracts were more tedious than any other reading, and there were at least eight of them to get through.

  But she read them out loud as Eric closed his eyes and listened. At first, she thought he might doze off, but he never did.

  There was one line in one of the contracts he didn’t like, but the others he signed. It took almost three hours to get through them all.

  She had no idea what he was working on. He’d sold his share in his old company, but he was obviously starting up something else. The contracts seemed to be for technical and animation support, so she assumed he was working on a new video game.

  Her throat was getting hoarse and her back was sore by the time they’d gotten through the other paperwork as well. Kristin had come in and out, occasionally interrupting with a question or piece of information, and at one point she’d brought in some sandwiches and fruit for their lunch.

  “All right,” Eric said. “The physical therapist will be here soon, and I’m getting a headache. I have a dinner meeting tonight, so we’ll have to go out. Do you have something better to wear?”

  Julie glanced down at herself, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He obviously didn’t like how she looked, which shouldn’t have bothered her at all. But it did. A little. She didn’t have a lot of clothes, but she could probably scrounge up something. “Yes,” she murmured, trying to hide how insulted she felt by the rude question and its implications. “Where are we going?”

  “Kristin can tell you. Just get me some more water and then get out. I need some space.”

  She bit back her response, which would have been that she was happy to give him as many miles of space as he wanted. She could bite her tongue for three months, if it was the way to earn the money he’d offered.

  But it was going to be a long three months, and she was obviously going to have to bite her tongue a lot.

  The man was arrogant, rude, thoughtless, selfish, and thoroughly obnoxious.

  Maybe he would have been a little better if he didn’t have a broken leg, but she was pretty sure he still wouldn’t have been someone she liked.

  —

  The day ended up better than any day Eric had had since his skiing accident. He knew it was because of Julie.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what she did, but she’d made his surroundings more comfortable and less irritating. She was also quiet and didn’t fuss over him, but she didn’t ignore him either and could somehow anticipate when he might need something.

  How she did it was a mystery to him, but when they came home from dinner that evening, he was aware of having less of a desire to strangle people than he’d had every other day for two weeks.

  The dinner hadn’t gone very well. Rayford was still digging his heels in about committing to any sort of partnership on the new game Eric wanted to develop, and Eric had exerted as much pressure as he could. He’d have to just wait and see.

  Another thing he hated to do.

  He’d always hated waiting and relying on other people to make the right decision. His father had been a tough man who’d never accepted anything but the best from him. Back in high school, Eric’s father had been his football coach. If Eric hadn’t done well enough in practice, his father would have him do extra drills after he came home. “You can’t rely on your teammates to get you there,” his father had said. “You have to make sure you’re a winner yourself.”

  “Do you need anything else, Mr. Vincent?” Julie asked, interrupting Eric’s train of thought. She’d worn a black skirt with a gray silk blouse to dinner. Like everything else she seemed to own, the outfit was discreet and appropriate but faded into the background. She rather faded into the background herself.

  It was one of the things he liked about her.

  “Don’t call me Mr. Vincent, for one thing,” he said. “My name is Eric.”

  “Okay,” she murmured. “Do you need anything else?”

  He wondered if there was anything that would get her to react in a way other than that quiet calm. “I’ve got to get ready for bed, if that won’t make you uncomfortable.”

  He didn’t give a damn what made her uncomfortable. He mostly wanted to see how she’d react.

  She didn’t react at all. “It won’t. Are you ready now?”

  It was after eleven, since the dinner had run long. Eric figured he might as well get the hassle done. “Yeah, I guess.”

  They went into the room he was using as a bedroom for the time being, since he couldn’t make it up the stairs. The room was plenty big, but he didn’t like it. It felt small after his normal room, and the city views weren’t as expansive.

  He should have put an elevator in when the penthouse was first being designed.

  Shaking his head at his lack of foresight, he rolled himself over to the dresser to grab something to sleep in.

  He’d put on decent clothes for dinner, so he shrugged off the jacket and then worked on the buttons on his shirt. As he was pulling off the T-shirt he wore beneath it, he said, “Don’t bother helping me or anything.”

  “It didn’t look like you needed help yet. Did you need me to undress you?”

  With his T-shirt in his hands, he checked her expression. He’d heard a lilt in her tone he hadn’t heard before. Was she actually being sarcastic?

  Her passive expression appeared perfectly normal, so he couldn’t decide one way or the other. “Of course not.”

  She picked up the clothes he’d tossed onto the floor. “You should just do your pants when you stand up to go to the bathroom,” she said. “No use going through the effort twice.”

  He suddenly felt irritable again. “You think I’m capable of leaning over to pull up my pants with this fucking cast?”

  She didn’t even flicker an eyelash. “Didn’t they give you a reach stick?” She’d evidently seen it lying on the dresser, since she went to pick it up without waiting for an answer.

  He glared at her. “I hate using that stupid thing.”

  “That’s probably because you haven’t practiced with it. Just try it out.”

  She made it sound like he was too clumsy to make it work. He mostly just hated it because it was ridiculous to have to use a gripper stick at all. He was finding her less and less helpful as the evening passed.

  She added, “You’ll feel better about the world if you can pull up your own pants.”

  His shoulders stiffened as he processed her words. There was no way she wasn’t being sarcastic. As he watched, he saw her lip quiver just slightly. It was surprisingly attractive, but that wasn’t as important as the fact that she was laughing at him.

  “Is there something you want to say?” he demanded.

  She arched her eyebrows again in that way that looked perfectly innocent. “I’ve said what I have to say. I assume you don’t want me dressing you, do you?”

  “That’s for fucking sure,” he muttered. He grabbed the crutch she positioned for him and wrenched himself out of the chair. He had no idea why he was so angry, but he wasn’t going to sit there while she gloated over him.

  It wasn’t easy going in the bathroom. His cast really was a problem. It would have been for anyone. He was basically strong and agile, but it took forever to get his trousers off, go to the bathroom, and then use the damned reach stick to pull up the loose pajama pants he’d been wearing to sleep in.

  His leg hurt, his lungs, his heart, and his whole body hurt when he finally managed to hobble out of the bathroom on the crutches. He hated the damned things even more than the wheelchair.

  He collapsed back into his chair, noticing that Julie had been busy. His clothes were put away and his bed was turned down. His medication was on his nightstand
with a bottle of water.

  “Do you need help getting into bed?”

  He hadn’t been planning to go to bed right now, but he was tired of her hanging around, making him feel stupid. He wanted to be by himself. “I’m fine. Just get out of here.”

  Without another word, she left the room.

  “I’ll call you if I need you,” he said as she disappeared.

  She didn’t respond to that either, but he knew she’d heard him.

  He sat for several minutes, wishing he were anywhere else in the world, wishing he hadn’t been so stupid as to go skiing that morning, wishing his world would get back to what it had been before.

  He wanted to call Maddy, but it was too late to talk to her now. She would have been in bed two hours ago.

  He was tired but not sleepy. He turned on ESPN and sat watching the scores update for a half hour, trying to focus on something he cared about instead of how helpless and useless he felt. Then he decided he needed a drink stronger than water, so he wheeled himself out of the room and into the living area, where his bar was.

  The whiskey he wanted was in the upper cabinet, which he couldn’t reach sitting down. It seemed easy enough to prop himself up on the bar and reach for the bottle.

  He didn’t have the crutches with him, of course, and he wasn’t going to wheel all the way back to grab one. He supported himself on the bar top and heaved himself up. He opened the cabinet and reached for the bottle, but his good leg buckled slightly as he was coming down, wrenching his bad leg in a way that hurt so much he let out a bellow.

  He also dropped the bottle of whiskey.

  It went crashing down onto the bar. Only the top broke off, but that was enough to send liquid all over the place, including all over his chest and abdomen. The bottle tumbled the rest of the way to the floor. The thick glass still didn’t break.

  He was cursing and panting and trying to get his ass into the chair again when Julie came running out of her room.

  She didn’t ask what had happened. She could see with her own eyes. She ran to the kitchen to get a dishcloth, and then she came over to start picking up the glass and mopping up the spill.