Chapter 6
Lucky
I was beginning to understand the downside to drawing erotic art while living with two incredibly attractive but off-limits men as I stared down at my latest sketch, which had once again turned out looking like Bode and Wade.
Never mind that I’d named the characters Wyatt and Brady.
Usually, my characters were strictly figments of my imagination, so I’d never dealt with real-life men leaping onto my page before.
It was a devastating mix of guilt and embarrassment and horniness that eclipsed anything I’d felt before about my chosen hobby.
And embarrassment was something I was completely familiar with, ever since my one experience with a BDSM club.
The one that had taught me that I wasn’t really cut out to be a real domme, and that some things are better left to fantasy.
Like encouraging my roommates to suck each other’s cocks, for example.
Fuck, I was going to be in so much trouble if they found out. And I’d gotten reckless, sketching in the kitchen the other day when I was sure I was home alone. I was lucky Bode hadn’t seen anything.
Frustrated, I tucked my iPad away and headed for the door. What I needed was some of Bode’s grandmother’s home cooking, which was keeping us all fed at this point. I pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway and slammed straight into a wall of warm muscle.
Whatever Wade was holding went flying as he lifted his hands to catch my upper arms and steady me. I was enveloped in his comforting scent, clean laundry, and that expensive pine soap he orders online.
“Whoa there.” He laughed, his hands still on my arms, thumbs stroking the skin beneath my t-shirt sleeves. “You okay?”
I wasn’t okay. I had spent an hour talking about erotic art that was inspired by the man currently touching me, and my body was responding to his proximity in ways that made me want to crawl out of my skin.
His chest was broad and firm against my breasts, and I could sense the heat of him through my shirt.
“Fine,” I managed, stepping back abruptly. “Sorry.”
Wade knelt down to retrieve the bike gloves he’d dropped.
His expression was open, warm, and amused.
My eyes dropped to the way his thighs flexed as he moved.
The more the man in my drawings resembled Wade, the more I felt the urge to catalog every detail of his form, from the tempting bulge in his pants to the way his tendons flexed when his hands moved.
This was getting out of control, and living with Wade was not helping.
“Check these out,” he said as he stood, holding up the gloves.
They were high-end mountain biking gloves in bright blue and yellow with reinforced palms and protection over the knuckles.
“The guy at the bike shop said they’ll keep my hands from getting all scratched up on the trails.
After last week’s rides, patients were starting to comment, and I thought protective gear would be better than explaining to them how often I wipe out. ”
I laughed, desperate to focus on anything else that wasn’t the way his scrub top stretched across his shoulders or the persistent memory of how I’d drawn those shoulders in my latest comic, as my character had railed him with a strap-on.
“I’ll come with you,” I blurted out.
Wade’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” His face broke into a grin so wide and genuine it almost broke my heart. “But you’re still mad at me.”
“You did something very stalker-like, Wade.”
“I didn’t mean it to be like stalking, just friendship!”
I sighed. “I don’t understand why you didn’t think things through a little more.”
He chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I thought this through.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
He grimaced. “I was afraid you’d say I couldn’t come? Come on, Lucks, I couldn’t stand another week at that fucking hospital in Lincoln. I had to get out of there.”
I blinked. “Why?”
He tugged on his hair, avoiding eye contact. “Oh. Um. It’s a long story. Residency is stressful, that kind of thing.”
I stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the truth, but he didn’t say more.
I studied the way his body had changed the moment I’d brought up Lincoln.
Shoulders slouched, eyes downcast. Residency had been hell for them, I knew that.
But he’d made it sound like a normal sort of hell, not something he’d want to flee the state for.
He looked up and met my eyes. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just… needed to get out of there. Really badly.”
I couldn’t take this level of sadness from my usually happy friend. “Come on. Take me for a bike ride. You can grovel the whole way.”
He perked up immediately, the sadness disappearing from his eyes. I’d give him one thing, Wade Kowalski was easy to distract.
“Of course. A groveling bike ride sounds awesome. And we’d better temporarily suspend your silence treatment, for safety reasons. Like, what if you see a bear and you need to warn me about it?”
“Stop talking and resume the groveling before I change my mind.”
“Have I mentioned how sorry I am? Really, truly sorry. And I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I just got excited about the house and pulled a Wade.”
“You did pull a Wade, that’s for sure,” I muttered.
“And I’m sorry about it! You have no idea how sorry.” His expression shifted as a thought occurred to him. “We should ask Bode if he wants to come.”
I snorted. “He’s not going to say yes. He never leaves the couch.”
“I know, but I don’t want him to feel left out. Besides, he seems…” Wade paused, searching for the word. “Stuck? I think he’s struggling. I’ve watched videos of him, and this is not his normal personality.”
“You’ve been cyberstalking our roommate?”
“Shut up, he’s a professional athlete. It’s not stalking. Hundreds of results come up when you Google him. Anyway, I keep thinking he’s going to snap out of whatever funk he’s in and compete again.”
I hesitated, shared what had been on my mind since my conversation with Emily. “Do you think he might be injured? Emily at work thinks he’s hiding an injury.”
“Why would he hide an injury?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want his sponsors to realize he won’t be able to ride anymore.”
Wade’s expression transformed, brows furrowed, eyes intent and assessing.
It was a transition I’d witnessed before, this shift from goofy friend to medical professional, and it was unreasonably sexy.
Would Wade be more like this in the bedroom?
Serious, focused, and thoughtful? Or would he be his normal, playful self?
And why did I care so much about the answer?
“That’s… interesting,” he said. “I hadn’t considered that. He doesn’t move like he’s in pain, but there are injuries that might not be obvious. And it would explain some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like why a professional athlete is spending his days horizontal. And why he gets defensive whenever anyone mentions snowboarding.” Wade tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking. “Has he mentioned anything to you?”
I shook my head. “But we don’t have heart-to-hearts. Our longest conversation was about where to put my recycling.”
“I’ll watch him more closely,” Wade decided. “See if I can pick up on anything. I’m good at spotting when people are compensating for an injury. Part of my job.”
“How are you going to do that without being obviously nosy?”
Wade’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sneaky.”
I snorted. “You are the least sneaky person I have ever met. In fact, it’s a wonder you managed to land a job in Elkhead without me finding out.”
“Well, if he’s hurt, he should be treated.”
I eyed him. “Don’t push too hard. He seems… fragile.”
“I know.” Wade’s murmur softened. “I don’t know if Emily is right about the injury, but I definitely think there’s something beyond being a grumpy bastard.” He brightened. “Anyway, bike ride? I’ll grab my stuff and meet you downstairs in ten.”
I nodded, grateful for the distraction from my own tangled thoughts. “Ten minutes. Don’t be late.”
Wade gave me a mock salute, a huge grin on his face. “Glad we’re friends again, Lucky. Having you mad at me was killing my mojo.”
“That’s possible?”
A flicker crossed his eyes, quick enough that I almost missed it, but he blew out a breath and laughed. “It’s difficult, but anything’s possible.”