Chapter 22 #2
He grunted his agreement, and she ran him through an exercise that confirmed his improvement lately had been exponential, and it was real.
He’d recovered almost all his mobility. She’d cut back his sessions to twice a week, and soon he wouldn’t need her at all.
Her heart was happy for him, but the recovery was too little too late.
They said little to each other until it was time for his session to end. With a hesitant hitch, she asked if she would see him later tonight. They hadn’t spent a night apart since that first time, but they hadn’t been at odds before either.
“I don’t know.” His tone had turned conciliatory. “If it’s not too late, I’ll text you and come by.”
As she watched him walk from the clinic, intuition told her his prickliness was about more than her declining his invitation.
His words hinted at something vaguely ominous, and she was afraid to look too closely.
She’d been second-guessing turning him down for the past half hour, questioning if she was wrong for being a stickler about the rules.
Would it even matter if she caved and went with him tonight?
She needed to get outside and clear her mind. Her next patient wasn’t due until midafternoon, so she grabbed her lunch.
As she pulled on her jacket, Celia stepped into the room and made a beeline for her. “Someone’s here to see you.” The woman pulled her glasses down her nose and shot Angie a cryptic look over the dark rims. “Since you appear to be free, I’ll send him back to your table.”
Angie’s heart lifted with the hope Sam had returned.
Maybe this could work after all. What was appropriate attire for a team dinner where she would be on the arm of a hunky hockey player?
She was mentally flipping through her wardrobe when a familiar figure strolled toward her.
Her hopes crashed, and her defenses ramped up.
Trevor approached with confident steps, his gaze scanning her first before sweeping the surface of her desk.
“Trevor,” she greeted, her tone icy as she moved to block his view, though she’d tidied up and left nothing confidential for him to spy. Not that he would, in fact, spy, but the fact that he was looking rankled.
He stopped within a few feet, a knowing smirk on his face. “Angelina.”
Setting down her lunch box, she squared her shoulders. “What can I do for you?”
His smirk transformed into a leer, and he stepped into her personal bubble. She scooted backward in a bid to widen the gap between them, and her ass hit the edge of her desk. He closed in. She crossed her arms, every alarm inside her blaring shrilly.
“There’s a final team dinner tonight.”
And? Where was this leading? She didn’t have to wait long for her answer.
“Should be a great time. Thought you might want to come along as my plus-one.”
What? “I-I can’t,” she stammered. He cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re on the team’s training staff, and I work here, so … company rules and all that.”
“Interesting. Exactly how does that work when it comes to Durbin? I mean, he’s actually with the team,” he threw back at her.
The shock of his statement trapped her tongue.
His eyes reminded her of a king cobra’s as it prepared to strike, dark and soulless.
They moved over her face as if reading her every thought, and she squirmed under the scrutiny.
“Tell you what,” he drawled, “go with me, and I won’t tell your bosses how cozy you and Durbin have gotten. Then you can save your job. You know, company rules and all that.”
“What are you talking about?” she sputtered.
The smirk was still plastered on his face as he slid a phone from his back pocket.
A few taps, and he held it so she could see an image of Sam with his arm around her in front of her desk.
Trevor swiped right, and the next frame revealed them in the pasta aisle at the grocery store, Sam kissing her in a blatant display of PDA.
She was on tiptoe, her body broadcasting how much she welcomed that kiss.
Trevor smoothly slid the phone back into his pocket. “Amazing what great shots these devices take nowadays.”
“So you saw something. So what? If you’re so hung up on the rules, then how do you justify inviting me to a team function?” A frisson of triumph emboldened her.
But then his smile widened. “Oh, didn’t I mention I handed in my notice last week?
I’m leaving Thursday. Don’t think management’s really going to care if my girl is one of their employees—unlike the way they’d blow their tops over their therapist fraternizing with one of their precious assets.
” His gaze skated up and down her body. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Never,” she seethed.
Without warning, he grabbed the back of her head and yanked her to him, crushing his mouth against hers. He pulled back, panting. “Let’s hope you do better next time.”
Stomach roiling with disgust, she swiped the heel of her hand over her lips. “There won’t be a next time,” she spat.
“It’s your funeral, sweetheart. Now if they do find out and can your pretty little ass, I can always put in a good word for you at my new place. Worked out well for you here.” He shrugged. “That’s providing you play along.”
“What does that mean?”
“Make me happy, and I’ll make you happy. Think it over. You know how to reach me.”
He strode away, all casual ease. The instant he was gone, she dashed for the bathroom and lost the little that remained of her breakfast.