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A slice of compassion wedges its way into my head. He’s an athlete, and I’m not interested in him. But I do feel sad for him that his dream is dead and gone.
That doesn’t mean I can’t tease him, though. “Well then, let’s cure the hobbling.” He stands and I jump up from the bench and do a couple of torso twists and side bends, like I’m priming to get back to lording over him.
This is a challenge. Can he move away from the victimhood and get his knee in a better functioning place? I hope so. No, he’ll never play professionally again. But I’m certain I can get him to a place where the pain is minimal and his function is improved.
And, well, I have to. If I can get a reference from him, I’ll be able to get another job, which will then help pay for a lawyer. I’m going to need one—a smart one—to battle the Bordy family. I don’t feel safe to even file a police report until that point.
I make a show of cracking my knuckles because it’s fun to get him to smile.
“Are you trying to whip me into shape?” he asks.
“Only if you think you can handle it.” I shrug. “I’ve made many a man cry.” At Alec’s widened stare, I reach out to squeeze the top side of his forearm. The zing I feel unearths me. My belly flips and riots like a fish that’s been yanked from the water. His skin is warm and smooth and there are accents to the muscles in his arm that I don’t often see on anyone, even pro athletes. I let go because I need to get back to a professional frame of mind.
“I’m not sadistic,” I tell him. “I don’t always enjoy pushing my patients to their limit. It’s just that sometimes you aren’t aware of what you’re capable of until you’re pushed to that point.”
“Oh, really?” He’s standing too near me. I can feel his heat. Somehow, he still smells lightly of a citrusy, musky soap even after the exercises I’ve put him through.
I go grab another towel and return to him. “Yes, but it’s in ways you might not think. I can’t tell you how many players I converted to yoga and Pilates, after a lot of balking on their part.”
“Do you miss working for San Antonio?”
I take in a breath. Here it is. The moment I know I should explain. There’s so much that happened in such a short amount of time, and I’m having a hard time unpacking what I should say now.
“You wouldn’t want to hear about it.” I pause, so many emotions warring inside me. I want to blurt it out, to rail upon the terrible actions of my ex and my employers. The lies. The stories. All of it.
Instead, I offer a smile and take out my ponytail, slipping the elastic down, through my hair, and onto my wrist. This eases the ache in my scalp. But do I imagine his eyes on me, watching me?
“I actually do want to hear about it, if you feel comfortable telling me,” he says. “I’m no longer with the Wolves, either.” He offers a small smile. “We have that in common.”
I nod. A brief synopsis wouldn’t hurt.
I stare out the window, shifting my weight to one side and crossing my arms over my stomach. “I briefly dated someone in the company.” I rake my fingers through my hair to the ends. “It was foolish of me. I realize that now. But when things went south, I had no choice but to leave my job altogether.”
“I’m sorry, Oakley.” My gaze leaves the window and goes to his. His eyes squeeze together.
I raise my palms in the air. “It happens. It was unfortunate, but I’ll survive,” I say.
I will. And with Alec’s help with the reference, I can pave the way to thriving again.
“Tell me who it was. I’d like to—you know—give him a piece of my mind.” The muscles in his jaw tighten and bunch, his expression clouds.
I step towards him and reach up to place my hand on his arm. His smooth, taut forearm…
“There’s no need for that,” I say, shaking out of the reverie that touching him sends me to. “It’s over and I’m moving on. Let’s get you walking normally before I go back to Texas, okay?”
“How about we don’t and then I’ll win the bet?” His eyes dance and his fingers move towards me, looking like he wants to tickle me.
I dart away from his grasp. “Nope! You are such a pill, Alec Tate.”
Laughing, I shake my head and walk towards the door. But then Alec clutches my arm and says, “Oakley, wait.”
Chapter 8
Alec
“Can I tell you something?” I ask Oakley, removing my hand from her arm. I’m a little shocked that I’ve done that. Doubts start filtering in like rainwater through a storm drain. Why did I stop her, like I have some big revelation? I’m not sure I can do this.
She smiles, just barely. “Yeah.” She opens her mouth to say more, but then closes it.
