Chapter 4 #2
“Then why was he here?” Sam needled. “You got something going with him? It’s against company rules, you know.”
“No, I don’t have ‘something going with him,’ and even if I did, it would be none of your business.” She’d stopped squeezing the ball, but she held it in a death grip that turned her knuckles white.
Huh.
“Well, actually it would,” he drawled, “especially if you get your ass fired. I’d have to break in a whole new physical therapist.”
“Break in? Oh, I think you’ve got that backward, buddy.” Turning from him, she casually deposited the pink elephant on the desk and started clicking away on the keyboard at her rolling workstation, her eyes fixed on the monitor. “And don’t think I won’t see you cheating again.”
He chuckled, his mood suddenly lighter. Couldn’t help himself. As perverse as it sounded, he was having fun trading barbs with her, and he liked that he’d rattled her. Or at least he thought he’d rattled her. For some odd reason, it took his mind off why he was here in the first place.
A teenage boy hobbled into the space with an older woman, and Angie lifted her head and beamed a smile so dazzling it outshone the overheads.
When she looked back at Sam, her smile faded.
“I need to talk to these folks, but I’ll be right back.
In the meantime, keep going through the alphabet.
If you finish before I get back, start over again. ”
He didn’t cheat as he went through the motions, watching her interact with the pair the entire time.
The kid had a mouthful of metal that flashed every time he smiled at Angie—and he smiled a lot.
So did the woman. Though Sam couldn’t hear what they said, their body language told him they were thanking Angie.
Probably for helping the kid rehab an injury.
When the woman produced a little gift bag, Angie lit up and covered her mouth in surprise.
She accepted the gift with grace, then held up her fist for the kid to bump.
The moment she did, his face flushed red, and the grin plastered on his face told Sam he was a little smitten with his therapist. She gave him the universal “wait a sec” signal and jogged to her desk, opened a drawer, and slid out a plastic container that she opened and presented to him.
The kid’s eyes flared with excitement, and when he dipped his hand into the box, he came away with two chunky cookies.
She offered the container to the woman, who shook her head.
Angie looked over her shoulder at Sam, who lifted his brows in anticipation she’d offer him some cookies too, but she snapped the lid shut as she said good-bye to her guests.
Back at her desk, she placed the closed container back in the drawer and fiddled with something at her desk, keeping her back to Sam.
She seemed to have eyes in the back of her head because when he was done with his “writing” project, she pivoted and inspected the ankle and prodded some more. “Okay. Now it’s time for ice and compression.”
“That’s it? Don’t I get an attaboy or something?” Like a cookie? Or one of those brilliant smiles?
Her mouth parted. “For writing the alphabet with your foot?”
“It was hard work. That kid got a fist bump … and a cookie.”
“That kid just recovered from a compound fracture, and he never complained during months of PT. You had a ten-minute exercise, and you complained for nine of those.”
“Did not.”
She rolled her eyes and spun on her heel.
He rose up on his elbows again and watched her walk toward a rolling cart with a box-like machine on it.
The soft sway of her ass in those ugly khakis hypnotized him.
He tilted his head for a better angle. Those damn things had to be some of the unsexiest pants a woman could wear, but somehow, on her, they enhanced her curves.
He might not like having her as his therapist, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view.
She wheeled the cart into place and fired up the Game Ready machine.
After checking the controls, she slipped a padded sleeve over his ankle, fastened it snug, and connected it to the machine.
She stood beside him as the cold began circulating through the compressed sleeve, her eyes darting toward the machine.
As she did so, her fingertips accidentally brushed his T-shirt sleeve, and she recoiled as if she’d touched a flame.
She took a step back. “Um, sorry.”
What was she apologizing for? She’d had her hands all over his bare ankle only moments before. Six years ago, she’d had her hands on a lot more intimate parts of him than that.
Her light blue eyes skittered between him and the machine until they finally landed back on his. He’d forgotten how pretty they were. The color of a clear Colorado winter sky, with velvety brown lashes forming the perfect frame.
“Comfy?” she asked.
“Oh, so comfy,” he quipped.
“You do your heavy-metal thing or watch a movie on your phone or whatever it is you do to entertain yourself, and I’ll be over here compiling my notes.”
“So, like I can cue up my favorite porn channel?”
“No X-rated visuals. We’re strictly PG in here.”
“You said whatever I entertain myself with, so I assumed …”
Her face flushed the same color as the hot pink elephant on her desk. “Keep in mind that children come in here, not to mention old people who might have a heart attack if they get a look at your … entertainment.”
“Jeez, a guy can’t have any fun anymore.” He slid his earbuds from his pocket and inserted them in place. Then he laced his fingers behind his head, lay back, and closed his eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of Angie stomping off.
Soon a soft female voice lulled him into another world when it asked him what kind of story he wanted to tell when he framed a subject in his camera’s lens. “Think of the picture as a stage. Where does the light fall? What’s in the shadows?”
As he listened to the narrator tick off approaches for different shots, he slowly swiveled his head toward Angie, trying to decide how he would capture her image as she was right now.
She was turned from him, and what he could see of her profile was soft, despite the harsh lighting outlining the curve of her cheek and turning the gold in her hair silver.
A few fine lines radiated from the corner of her eye and bracketed her mouth.
Those had been etched there by many smiles, and that’s how he remembered her—always vibrant, always happy, always trying to bring cheer to everyone around her, whether they needed it or not.
That was what he’d found so attractive about her back then.
But that girl no longer existed. Or was it possible she was simply buried beneath a determination so profound it dominated everything else?
The same could be said about him. Maybe they were kindred spirits.
Knock it off, you knucklehead.
His twenty-minute imprisonment passed more quickly than he’d expected, and soon Angie was rousting him from a pleasant daydream where he had just poked the puck off his opponent’s stick and streaked up the ice, all while fighting off another player draped over his back like Superman’s cape.
He’d left that guy in his rearview and had all the time he needed to tee up the perfect shot.
He’d unloaded a wrister that somehow traveled through the legs of four guys parked in front of the goal mouth.
A seeing-eye shot that had found the back of the net, popping the mesh so hard it made the goalie’s water bottle arc into a spectator’s lap.
The entire sequence had been captured in his virtual camera’s lens.
Sweet!
Angie’s mouth was turned down in a frown. “You were listening to porn weren’t you?” she accused.
He slid out an earbud. “Why do you say that?”
“The stupid smile on your face.”
He held out the bud to her. “Camera porn.” She simply stared at him. “Have a listen.” Then he glanced down at his crotch. “If I were really listening to porn, I think you’d see a whole lot more action in my sweats right about now.”
She too looked at his crotch but quickly skated her gaze back to his offering. Surprisingly, she lifted the bud from his fingers and put it against her ear. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were into … photography?”
“See what happens when you assume? There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Then again, there’s a lot I do know about you. And that’s plenty.”