Chapter 6
I never should have left home today.
Hazel
I hum as I arrange a fresh sheet on my treatment table. I have a new client coming in today. I don’t know who it is or what injury they have but I don’t care. I’m just thankful for another client.
The bell above the door rings. I check my outfit. No stains. My hair is braided to avoid any entanglements. I’m ready.
I enter the reception area and frown. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you were expecting me.” Miles grins.
With his tanned skin and blond hair with matching beard, he could be the poster boy for a surfer. Appropriate since the one thing he finds important in life is surfing.
“I’m expecting a new patient. Not an asshole.”
“I am the new patient.” He taps his chest and winces.
“What happened?” He opens his mouth to respond, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “Never mind. I don’t need to know since I won’t be treating you.”
He sighs. “I know you hate me.”
Ugh. I wish his words were true. If I could hate Miles, my life would be much, much easier.
“But I need help.”
“I don’t think me helping you is a good idea.”
I’ll get my hands on him and forget all about what an asshole he is. How the man doesn’t know how to stick. I’ll feel his smooth skin and those strong muscles and lose my mind. It’s happened too many times already. I’m determined it won’t happen again.
“But where else can I go? There aren’t any other physical therapists on the island.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Not true. Hudson has a therapist at the resort.”
The Hideaway Haven Resort is the epitome of luxury. The location is prime – on a pristine beach in an otherwise empty area of the island. The spacious cabin accommodations are high-end with fancy linens, premium entertainment systems, and private hot tubs on the patios.
There’s also an on-site spa and fitness center, as well as indoor and outdoor pools, gourmet dining at the restaurant, and every activity you can imagine, from surfing lessons to parasailing to private beach dinners.
Miles shakes his head. “Hudson couldn’t fill the therapist position.”
My brow wrinkles. “He couldn’t?”
I didn’t bother applying for the position since I assumed Hudson would hire some fancy therapist with experience with sports teams. Hudson is a former NFL player and the whole reason for the therapist is to help any sports professionals vacationing at the resort.
“Not a whole lot of people want to move to Smuggler’s Hideaway.”
I scowl. “Idiots. Smuggler’s Hideaway is the best place to live in the world.”
I haven’t actually seen much of the world, but my statement stands.
He smiles. “The island is pretty awesome.”
I roll my eyes. “Which is why you couldn’t wait to escape when you were twenty.”
He sighs. “How long are you going to punish me for what I did?”
I clench my jaw. He still doesn’t get it. It’s been six years, and he is none the wiser. I’m not mad at him for dumping me before he left. Correction. I was mad about him dumping me. But I got over it.
What I’m mad about is how he returned to the island a month later and pretended I didn’t exist. Until he drinks too much moonshine and drunk dials me. And I’m the fool who answers the phone. No, I’m the fool who used to answer the phone.
“I don’t think I should be your therapist,” I say instead of explaining myself to him. If he doesn’t get what’s wrong by now, he never will. Besides, what good will rehashing the past do? It’s not as if Miles wants a second chance with me.
“Come on, Blaze.”
Blaze? How dare he call me Blaze? Blaze is the nickname Miles gave me when we were in high school. When I loved him and thought he would love me forever. I was a na?ve fool.
I growl. “My name isn’t Blaze.”
He clears his throat. “Hazel, I need you.”
How I’ve longed for him to say those words. For him to need me the way I need him. No, not the way I need him. The way I needed him. Past tense. I’m over him. He’s nothing to me now.
“You don’t need me. You need a therapist. I can recommend someone on the mainland.”
“Don’t make me go to the mainland. I don’t have an extra hour every time I need therapy to waste on driving.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You don’t? As far as I know, you don’t exactly spend much time at your job at Buccaneer’s Distillery.”
“Low blow, Hazel. Low blow.”
Crap on a seafood cracker. He’s right. I shouldn’t tease him about not enjoying a job he never wanted in the first place. It couldn’t have been easy going from future surfing professional to sales manager at a distillery owned by your older brother.
He could have leaned on me. I would have been there for him. But he pretended I didn’t exist instead.
I nearly slap my forehead. Why can’t I stop thinking about the past?
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. But I really do need your help. I injured my rotator cuff yesterday.”
“What? The rotator cuff on your right shoulder?”
Flying mermaids caught in a fisher’s net. His right rotator cuff is the entire reason his pro surfing career came to an abrupt halt.
He nods. “The very one.”
“What happened?”
“One of my surfing students got knocked out and was tangled in seaweed. I needed all my strength to pull her out before she drowned.”
I grasp my chest. “Oh my smuggler. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She has a nasty cut on her forehead, but otherwise she’s perfectly fine.”
“Thanks to you.”
He shrugs and his cheeks darken slightly. Dang it. He’s adorable when he’s embarrassed. How can I refuse to help him when he injured himself saving a woman’s life? I can’t punish him for being a hero.
I pat the treatment table. “Hop on, remove your shirt, and lay down.”
His blue eyes sparkle. “You’re going to help me?”
“Unless you make some stupid comment about me asking you to remove your shirt. In which case, you’re going to wish your rotator cuff was the worst pain you have.”
He grins. “I love it when you’re salty.”
I roll my eyes. “But you hate it when I add salt to your coffee.”
“You added salt to Zane’s coffee. I got caught in the crossfire.”
“He’s your younger brother and therefore your responsibility.”
“The same way you’re responsible for Thomas and Ian.”
I snort. “No one can accept responsibility for those two yahoos. They actually brought a sheep to the Salty Dip and then got annoyed when Sheepwreck Sally wasn’t allowed to enter the competition for best costume.”
He chuckles. “Ian and Thomas haven’t changed one bit.”
At the reminder of how well he knows my brothers – they were the best of friends back when Miles and I were dating – my good humor vanishes.
I check the clock. “Come on. Your thirty-minute session will be over before we can begin at this rate.”
Miles whips off his t-shirt and my gaze snags on his six-pack abs.
My fingers tingle with the need to reach out and touch him.
To trail my fingertips along the ridges of his muscles before my tongue tastes every inch of his chest. To scrape my nails through the smattering of hair on his lower chest.
He clears his throat and I force my gaze to his face. His blue eyes have darkened to nearly violet with passion, but to his credit, he doesn’t smirk or make some juvenile comment.
“Hop up on the table and lie down.”
I wait until he’s settled before asking, “What did the doctor say?”
“The tear isn’t bad enough for surgery, but I need therapy and to modify my activity.”
“No surfing.”
He sighs. “No surfing.”
I reach for him but stop. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
“Do your worst.”
The second my hands touch him, I receive a jolt. I don’t jump. I’m used to how electric it feels whenever we touch. Even after all these years, a single touch has my nervous system on high alert and my nipples tingling with anticipation.
Calm down, nipples. Nothing will be happening here.
I prod his shoulder and Miles sucks in a breath. I stop. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he grits out.
“Your muscles are tight. I’m going to give you a soft tissue massage to loosen you up. You should be applying ice therapy, and I’ll make a list of stretches for you to perform to prevent stiffness.”
He groans. “I know the deal.”
“I’m sorry, Miles.”
“Not your fault.” He squeezes my hip quickly. The second he releases me, I miss his heat. I want his hands on me. I want his heat enveloping me. This is why I didn’t want to be his therapist.
Miles is catnip to me and I’m the horny cat who keeps coming back for more, no matter how much she gets hurt after every encounter.
I lather my hands with lotion before beginning the soft tissue massage. “How are your brothers doing? Is it true they all found love?”
I know it’s true. You can’t keep anything a secret on Smuggler’s Hideaway. But I need to keep my mind on anything else but how I’m touching Miles’s skin. How his abs are contracting with every move I make.
“I blame Eli. He started everything.”
Relief fills me as Miles regales me with the stories of how his brothers fell in love. He isn’t pushing me the way he usually does. He’s letting me retreat.
Maybe I can be his therapist after all.
I glance down his body and notice the hard bulge tenting his pants.
Or maybe not.