Chapter 10
Elephant Walk
“I’ve been thinking about your rehab, and I have an idea,” Angie announced as Sam pulled on his boot the following week.
It was the first session in his pared-down schedule and the first since The Kiss nearly a week ago.
The feel of his lips on hers and the way their bodies had interlocked still buzzed her brain like a bombarding bee.
She couldn’t shake it, damn it! Nor could she confide her secret to anyone, though she desperately needed a sounding board—someone who possessed cool logic and wouldn’t shy away from giving her the objective feedback she needed.
Normally, she would turn to Jenna to help her sort this tangle of emotions that had taken root inside her, get a handle on this thing growing between her and Sam. No, not exactly growing. More like picking up where they’d left off years ago.
Her cousin was a great listener with a strong empathetic streak, but she wouldn’t stay on the sidelines. Not when it came to the thorny thicket named Sam Durbin. Jenna’s advice would be swift and harsh, loaded with all the reasons why Angie was an idiot if she let herself fall for Sam again.
While it might be true, Angie didn’t want to hear it. She would simply pull up her big-girl pants and soldier on alone by ignoring the spark threatening to ignite into a five-alarm fire between her and her kryptonite.
The devil with the dark blue eyes looked up at her, and it struck her that those eyes matched his Blizzard cap.
He wore it backward today, and his unruly golden locks poked out, tempting her to wrap one around her finger and give it a sharp tug.
His usual uniform of navy team hoodie and gray sweats hugged his frame in all the right places.
How this thrown-together ensemble he’d probably picked up from his bedroom floor could actually make him look sexier than he already did utterly flummoxed her.
The distraction was an endless source of irritation. It wasn’t fair.
She quickly looked away. “Here’s my thought. If you’re going to do exercises on the sly at home anyway, why don’t you film yourself doing them and send me the videos so I can share advice about anything that needs correcting? I can also work in some rest periods for you so you don’t overdo.”
He sat up and eyed her warily. “What makes you think I’m doing ‘exercises on the sly’?” He air-quoted the last four words, his expression utterly bland.
“Because I know you, Sam Durbin,” she laugh-snorted.
A throat cleared, and Angie looked up to see Celia glaring at her, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “If you’re done chatting, Ms. Rossi, your next patient is here to see you.” Celia didn’t move, shifting her evil eye to the back of Sam’s head.
Angie bit back a juvenile urge to stick her tongue out at Celia, turning to Sam instead and whispering, “You’re getting me in trouble again.”
“What do you mean, again?” he hissed back. “When did I ever get you into trouble?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Junior year? Tutoring at the library?”
“Wasn’t me.”
Angie raised her voice loud enough for Celia to overhear. “I highly recommend you adopt my suggestion for your treatment plan, Mr. Durbin. You’ll at least give it some thought, I hope.”
“I don’t need to,” he growled so low that Celia couldn’t hear. “Don’t need the help. I’ve got this.” With his usual cocky smirk, he slid from the table and limped past Celia, returning her glower with an equally menacing look as he exited.
Angie puffed out an exhale and got ready for her last patient of the day. It was Tuesday, and she was anxious to wrap up the session and tackle her reports so she could forget about work for the night.
Hours later, she sat back from her computer screen and stretched her arms overhead.
As she did so, she noticed the time glowing on a digital wall clock.
She’d been so engrossed in her notes and outlining a plan for a new patient that she hadn’t noticed night settling in—nor had she noticed everyone had cleared out until she looked around.
Of course they had—because they were normal people who had lives and families to go home to.
They didn’t get so absorbed in work that they lost track of time.
“What time is it?” she asked aloud.
“Way past time for you to go home,” a deep voice rumbled. “That is if you actually have a home.”
With a squeak, she popped out of her seat and whirled, sending her wheeled office chair scuttling into the workstation with a thunk.
Out of the shadows sauntered Sam’s tall frame.
“’Cause see, I have this theory that you don’t actually have a place to go.
From what I can tell, you’re either here or you’re at the shelter.
Do you sleep at both places? And where do you shower?
” As he drew closer, the amusement in his eyes grew visible.
Her chest heaved under her hand, which was pressed against her heart to keep it from bursting out of her skin after the startle he’d given her.
He stopped, stuffed a hand into the front pocket of a pair of charcoal pants that matched his tailored jacket, and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell Celia to change the combination, did you?”
“No,” she snapped, “because I was worried about getting you in trouble. Silly me, I trusted you not to use it again. I really should have learned my lesson about trusting you six … Oh, never mind.” She needed to stop beating that dead horse—even she was tired of hearing herself.
She paused to gulp air and settle her runaway pulse.
“Are you here to do your own workout session again?”
He came a little closer, edging into the light. Besides the suit that fit him as though it was made for him—probably because it was—he sported a snug, robin’s-egg-blue button-down and a silk tie with team colors that popped against his shirt. He looked damn good.
“No, I just got back from dinner with the team.” He stood close enough that the pleasant smell of his aftershave mixed with a hint of smoky liquor wafted over her.
“End of season celebration, though I can’t say I felt much like celebrating.
The guys have the next few days off, so they’ll be partying hard.
” He fidgeted with a button on his jacket.
“I noticed your car in the parking lot, so I thought I’d come check on you. See if you were all right.”
“To see if I was …?”
“Yeah, to see if you were all right,” he repeated. “That Trevor guy left the party early, and I thought maybe …” He frowned at her. “Why is that such a surprise to you?”
“That you would check on me? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s not normally something a patient does.”
His expression, along with his voice, softened. “How about a friend checking on a friend?”
“Is that what we are now? Friends?”
He threw his head back and laughed at the ceiling, zapping her already frayed nerves.
She backed up and crossed her arms over her chest. “W-what’s so funny?”
Twinkling eyes lasered in on hers, and she felt their weight like she might feel the heft of his hard body stretched on top of hers.
Wait. What?
“You’re what’s funny, Rossi,” he chuckled. Before her muddled brain could tell her mouth to form a question, he tossed out, “Where do you live?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know anything about where you live. Do you live in an apartment? A house? Are you in Denver? Out in the ’burbs?”
“Uh … a little bungalow about ten minutes from here.” He nodded approvingly. As ridiculous a turn as this conversation had taken, she couldn’t resist playing along. “You?”
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m renting at the Glass House.”
“Wow. Fancy address.”
“It was what was available close to the arena. You should show it to me sometime.”
Her head spun. “Show you what?”
“Your place. Your little bungalow ten minutes from here.”
“Only if you show me yours,” she blurted out.
“How about right now?”
She stuttered to a stop. “Right—”
“Now.” His grin was still plastered on his handsome face, but his eyes glinted with deadly seriousness. “It’s Tuesday. You don’t have to be at the shelter tonight. Unless you really don’t live anywhere.”
“It’s kind of creepy that you know my schedule.”
“Your life is as boring as mine. There’s not that much to know. Like I said earlier, you’re either here or at the shelter, and I’m seriously doubting you have your own place. But you could always prove me wrong by showing me.”
“Trust me, there’s not much to see.”
“What are you hiding, Rossi? You got a man stashed there?” The smile faded from his face. “Shit. I should have asked a while ago if you have a boyfriend.”
No, you shouldn’t have because it’s none of your business. “Would it have made a difference, or would you still be bullying me into showing you my place?”
“Uh, yeah. Maybe. Do you?”
“Do I what?”
His nostrils flared with a frustrated snort. “Have. A. Boyfriend.”
She shook her head. “Afraid not.”
“Sounds like you want one.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“I—” A devilish gleam lit his eyes. “I could if you wanted me to. But I’ve heard I’m bad boyfriend material.”
She raised her hand. “This I know from experience. And no, I don’t need you to volunteer for the position. I like my job here, and Celia wouldn’t blink twice before reporting me to the fraternization police.”
“Damn. Guess there’s no fooling around, then.”
“Nope.” She popped the p.
“Good. Now that we’ve established that, take me to your place. You’re safe with me. Let’s go.”
She might be safe with him, but would he be safe with her? Neither of them was going to find out. Showing him her place was a bad, bad idea, whether it was Tuesday or any other day of the week.
“No way,” she snorted. “Thanks for checking on me, but you can leave now.”
Strangely, their unconventional exchange had Angie feeling lighter. Maybe because it reminded her of a more carefree time. While she was oddly reluctant to let it end, she sensed they were moving into dangerous territory she had to avoid.