Chapter 8
EIGHT
If Frankie thought he looked good in a tight racing shirt and cargos, his workout clothes put them to shame. Every arm muscle was perfectly defined along with his six-pack. His bare calves, visible below his cut-off sweats, looked sculpted from marble. And those sweats were stretched tight over powerful thighs, not to mention the bulge…
Cheeks heating, Frankie quickly raised her eyes back to his face and his dark, slightly disheveled hair. Yup, Waylon flat-out had the most gorgeous body she’d ever seen.
But that wasn’t what made Frankie’s heart skip a beat. Well, okay, not the only thing. Instead of his usual scowl, Waylon was still smiling from whatever he and Elias had been laughing about, totally unguarded in that moment.
Until he spotted Frankie. His eyes widened in a look of surprise as he took in the scene—Frankie hanging out with his friends’ wives. He stared at her for a moment. Frankie realized this was the first time he’d seen her without her beanie and her coat. Her hand automatically went to her short hair, still slightly damp from the Jazzercise class. She was thankful for her oversized workout shirt. He didn’t need to see her body.
Waylon’s smile faded. Then he gave Elias a look that clearly said he wasn’t happy and it was somehow Elias’ fault.
Ugh! Frankie’s first impulse to cover up as much of her body as she could came straight from her mother.
Then she had a second, unexpected thought. Maybe it was because she’d kept up just fine at Jazzercise. Maybe it was being in the presence of two awesome women who never once tried to stop her or treat her differently. Who only wanted to get to know her , Frankie, and not Frankie-with-cancer.
Why do I care if Waylon doesn’t like what he sees? Just because he’s a freaking Adonis doesn’t mean I have to be self-conscious. My body is strong enough to have survived cancer. That’s all that matters.
Frankie squared her shoulders and met Waylon’s gaze head-on, daring him to say something, anything.
Instead, he tilted his head.
And gave her the smallest of smiles.
Her heart skipped a couple more beats—from shock, she told herself.
“Hey, babe,” Elias called to Wren, who lit up at his arrival. He turned his attention to Frankie. “I didn’t realize you were sticking around after class.”
Waylon gave him a look that said Elias wasn’t kidding anyone.
To Frankie’s surprise, Wren grabbed her hand as she stood, tugging Frankie up with her.
“Heck yeah, she can’t leave until we’re done interrogating her,” Wren said with a laugh.
Grinning, Elias rolled his eyes. “And, so it begins. I take it she’s pack now.” He gestured at their hands.
“Pack?” Frankie raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Whatever it meant, it turned Waylon’s face red. He clenched his jaw as he looked down and studied the floor like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe.
Wren squeezed Frankie’s hand before letting go. “Waylon hasn’t told you his nickname yet?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Waylon’s head shot back up. He looked horrified.
“He has a nickname?” Frankie asked, her grin growing into a wide smile as she raised both eyebrows.
“They all do,” Rochelle said. “Animal nicknames, ever since they were kids. Gabe is Timberwolf.” She pointed at Elias. “That guy is Lion.”
“Don’t you think he looks like one?” Wren chimed in, and Frankie had to agree—with his intense blue eyes, broad face, and blond hair, Lion was the perfect nickname for Elias.
“So, what’s yours?” Frankie asked at the same time Waylon said, “You don’t need to know my?—”
“It’s Ram,” Elias interrupted, speaking over them both as he clapped a hand on Waylon’s shoulder.
“Ram, huh?” Frankie’s lips twitched as she fought back a stupid joke in her head.
Fought and failed.
“So is that your name or is that what you do in?—”
“It’s short for Ramson ,” Waylon practically growled. But it was too late; everyone else was already laughing. If his face was red before, it was positively glowing crimson now.
“She’s pack! She’s pack!” Wren shouted as she flung an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “Sorry, we must sound insane.” She laughed.
“Pfft, the good kind of insane. What about the women? Do we get nicknames, too?” Frankie only realized she’d said ‘we’ after it was out of her mouth. It felt good.
Pack . She wasn’t sure she’d earned it yet, but the idea of belonging made her heart ache in the best way.
Especially when no one corrected her.
“Nope,” Rochelle said. “Just ask Stephanie. She’s been trying to get them to call her Cougar for months.”
Frankie snorted. “Yeah, Steve would. ”
Rochelle’s phone buzzed in her bag. “Hang on.” She pulled it out and frowned. “It’s Sandra.” She took the call. “Hey, what’s up, Luggage?”
Before Frankie could ask, Wren leaned in and told her, “Speaking of nicknames, that’s her sister’s. They traveled a lot as kids.”
Frankie grinned. “Cute.”
Rochelle frowned. Her eyes rolled. “Yeah, yeah, I can. But you’ve got to get a spare one. Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to.” She rolled her eyes again. “Okay, see you in a few.”
Rochelle shook her head as she disconnected. “Sorry, Sandra’s got a flat at school and the used car she just bought doesn’t have a spare. I’m going to go pick her up, and send Gabe to find her a tire and a spare .”
“Oh, crap,” Wren said. “Tell her hi for me, and that she definitely needs a spare before we go on our next shoot. I need the best intern I’ve ever had.”
Rochelle tilted her head. “I thought she was the only intern you’ve ever had.”
Wren shrugged. “Well, yeah, but she’s still the best.”
“Will do. Sorry about Pickleball.”
“Sandra’s more important than a Pickleball game. Go.” Wren hugged Rochelle before she left. Then she turned to Frankie.
“So, ever play Pickleball?”
“No, actually.”
“Wanna learn to play Pickleball?” Wren grinned. “We’ve got the rec’s court reserved but we need four people, so tag, you’re it,” she said as she tapped Frankie on the upper arm.
Frankie couldn’t help but glance at Waylon, only to find him looking at her, his expression unreadable.
“Great idea,” Elias said. “We were gonna play guys against girls, but since you guys are already Adventure Buddies, you could team up. ”
Frankie and Waylon both realized the insinuation—Buddies versus married couple—at the same time.
Waylon cleared his throat. “That’s okay, let’s stick with the plan. Guys against gals.”
Frankie gave him a relieved smile, even as she felt her heart tug. She shook it off and told herself that this way, she’d get to look right at him and his stupidly perfect body without being accused of ogling.
“You were totally ogling Waylon,” Wren said when they were back in the women’s locker room.
“Pfft. I was not.”
Yes, I was .
Pickleball turned out to be a lot of fun—much more fun than she’d expected, once Wren explained the rules and the game got going. Waylon looked incredibly tense before the first serve. Frankie figured he just took his sports very seriously. She stopped focusing on him after about three seconds when Elias sent the ball to Frankie’s side. She had to decide quickly if it was going to land in bounds or hit the outer ‘kitchen.’ She took a chance, swung, and sent it flying straight at Waylon. He returned with a heavy hit and the ball flew right between Frankie and Wren, scoring the first point for the guys. After that, he loosened up—probably because he and Elias were winning right off the bat. He kept a sharp eye on Frankie. She figured he was studying her playing style, looking for her weaknesses—mainly, her backhand.
Though he did something she truly appreciated—well, besides giving her a tantalizing peek at his abs every time he jumped and his shirt rode up—he didn’t pull any of his serves or swings. Even after she called for a break to catch her breath, he still played hard.
By the end of the match, Frankie was ready to collapse. She was hot and sweaty under her oversized shirt. But no way would she wear anything that showed off her body. Wren had asked if she was okay, and she nodded and told her she’d catch up with her in the locker room. She sat down on a bench at the back of the court and put her head down.
She was surprised when Waylon sat next to her.
She lifted her head. Elias was gone, too. It was just the two of them. That shouldn’t have made her heart jackhammer, but it did. Last Saturday, Waylon couldn’t get away from her fast enough, and now he was waiting for her. Maybe he was angry at her.
“Just so you know,” she started before he could say anything, “I didn’t home in on your friends. Steve introduced us earlier.”
“Of course she did.” Waylon didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked amused. “Though, I have a feeling Wren and Rochelle would have figured out some other way to meet my Adventure Buddy.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. Nothing stops Wren.” He paused. “She’s a lot like you that way. Nothing stops you, does it?”
She felt heat creeping into her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“The way you played today. You were determined to keep up.”
She shrugged. “It was fun, that’s all.”
Waylon looked deeply into her eyes. Then he shook his head and stood up. He offered her his hand to pull her up and she took it. His palm was dry and calloused and its warmth shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. Neither should she have still felt his palm against hers after he let go.
Now she was in the women’s locker room defending herself from Wren.
“I was not ogling him.”
Wren chuckled at Frankie’s denial. “You were. It’s okay—Waylon’s easy to look at.”
Frankie felt her face heat for the hundredth time. She took her boots out of her duffel, an old broken-in pair of Ropers that were scuffed and distressed for real from riding.
“Has he mentioned that he has a thing for cowgirls?”
And, she dropped them .
Thankfully, Wren changed the subject, asking her more questions about wwoofing. Frankie was pretty sure she had her blush under control when they walked out of the locker room.
Which was a good thing, since Waylon was watching for them.
He took one long look at her boots, then quickly directed his attention at Elias.
Her lips twitched as she squashed down a smile. No way. No way does he have one iota of interest in me .
Just like I’m not interested in him .
“Ready to go, babe?” Elias asked Wren.
She nodded. “Rochelle texted that she’s already there.”
“Where are you guys going?” Frankie asked.
“We’re heading to Bear and Ellie’s,” Wren said. “Bear is?—”
Frankie held her hand up. “Don’t tell me. Could he be…one of the pack?”
“Wow, you catch on quick!” She laughed. “Yeah, Bear is one of their old friends, and his wife Ellie is pregnant. We’re helping them out with some chores from Ellie’s honey-do list.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.”
“You should come with us, too. It’ll be fun.”
Frankie’s stomach did a little flip as she felt Waylon’s expectant gaze on her. She was tempted—okay, more than tempted—but she couldn’t.
“Sorry,” Frankie said quickly, trying to sound casual, “but I have a date.”
She didn’t miss the way Waylon’s shoulders tensed slightly, his expression shifting from neutral to something harder to read.
Then he smiled. “No problem,” he said.
“Do you?” Wren sounded intrigued, yet she looked disappointed. She took out her phone. “Give me your number and we’ll set something up another time?”
Frankie’s heart lifted. “Sure, that’d be great.” She dug her phone out of her gym bag. The battery was almost drained. I must have forgotten to put it on the charger again. Chemo brain .
“Or you could just drop into Riversong pretty much any given day,” Wren added as she glanced at Elias and Waylon, as if daring them to stop her.
“Riversong?”
“Sorry, that’s a coffee shop in Lyons.”
Frankie brightened. “Oh, yeah, I think I know the one. Cute place.”
“It’s where Rochelle does most of her work. Our friend April is part-owner with her family.”
As Wren exchanged numbers with her, Frankie was acutely aware of the way Waylon seemed to be deliberately not looking at her now. She wondered what he was thinking.
“Well, I’ll see you guys.”
“I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning,” Waylon said.
“Absolutely. See ya, Buddy.” She tagged him on the arm and turned away.
As Frankie left the rec center and headed home, she couldn’t shake the image of Waylon’s expression when she’d mentioned her plans. She tried not to over-analyze it as she got ready for her date, anticipating a longer-than-usual conversation—but not a bad one. She wouldn’t even have to sugar-coat anything this time.
Dan will be so proud of me .
For the rest of the week, Frankie set aside time every day after she finished her grant writing to go work out at the rec center. By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Frankie felt a little more like her old self from the BC days—Before Cancer. The soreness in her arms and legs after a week of workouts was the good kind of ache—the kind that reminded her she was making progress. Her stamina improved as well, along with her mood. Even though she didn’t run into Wren and Rochelle again, Gabe always had a smile for her, and of course Steve was Steve and never failed to make her laugh .
I’ve got new friends she told her naked reflection in the full-length mirror as she studied her body. The bathroom scale told her she was gaining weight and the mirror confirmed it. She was far from her curvy BC self, but her ribs didn’t show quite as much and her hips were beginning to flare out again. She turned and looked over her shoulder to confirm that her butt was returning, which made her smile. Feeling a little more optimistic, she pulled her swimsuit from the bottom of a dresser drawer and pulled it on.
When she looked in the mirror again, the first thing that caught her eye was the port just under her skin on the left side of her chest, right above the place she avoided looking at.
The place where her breasts used to be. The flatness there. And under the swimsuit, the scars.
Accentuate the positive her mother always said, which, she hated to admit, was good advice.
Hard to do that with a swimsuit though . Frankie sighed as she took off the swimsuit and put it into her pack. She got dressed without looking in the mirror again.
Her mother also said Frankie needed to ‘do something about the disfigurement soon or you’ll live to regret it’ at every passing opportunity—opportunities that Frankie limited as much as possible. Not all of her mother’s advice was helpful. She didn’t seem—or want—to understand that boob reconstruction hurt . It meant painful expanders. It meant more surgery, more hospital stays. It meant coming home with drainage tubes. It meant putting her life back on hold for another two months, and that was if everything went well.
And shouldn’t a man love her no matter if she had boobs or not?
Sure, she could tell herself that all day long, then look at social media for five seconds and know it wasn’t true.
And damn if her thoughts didn’t snap right back to Waylon and their first adventure. The way he’d scowled the moment he’d gotten a good look at her when he walked into the room.
But he was gentle as he dressed her wound. Funny, too. Hell, a Snoopy fan, to boot .
And the way he’d swooped her up into his arms to get her out of harm’s way. She hated to admit it, but that was a huge turn-on.
“He would have done that for anyone,” she said out loud. She still found herself grabbing a now-oversized swim shirt out of the bottom of her drawer and setting it next to her bag, debating on taking it with her. Frankie barely had her shoes on when the doorbell rang. Her stomach flipped. She glanced at the clock.
Of course he’s early .
She grabbed her phone and slung her pack over her shoulder, just in case he demanded they get in his truck immediately, the sooner to get the day over.
“Hang on,” she shouted as she headed to the door, annoyed that she wouldn’t have time for one more cup of coffee.
Unless she invited him in for a mug.
Like he’d want to come in .
But she really wanted that coffee.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be so early,” Frankie said as she opened the door, hoping that Waylon would want coffee, but expecting him to fight her.
Her breath caught at the sight of a dozen roses.