3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Parker
The SUV comes to a screeching halt before the driver’s door flies open.
My pulse skyrockets when I see all that red hair, creamy skin, and piercing blue eyes emerge from the vehicle.
The eyes that shoot daggers straight into my soul when they turn my way.
She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Yet now, she carries herself differently.
Strong but quiet. Resilient but fragile.
I can’t help but feel I’m a part of that equation. Of the reason she’s guarded.
Her angry steps carry her across the gravel, heading toward Dakota, who pauses in the front yard of her and Cooper’s cabin.
“What’s wrong?” Dakota asks, her posture stiff.
Laiken comes to a stop, aiming her finger in my direction. “That is what’s wrong.”
Her raspy voice hits unexpectedly. I’ve only been able to catch glimpses of it in the last seven years and the simple sentence ricochets inside of my chest.
“Laiken?” Her name tumbles from my lips, just as natural as it used to.
She glares at me before Dakota speaks.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes bounce between us.
Laiken flails the folder in her hand in my direction. “Why don’t you ask him? He seems to be calling the shots around here.”
Cooper shifts in his boots next to me. “What the hell did you do, man?” he mutters under his breath.
“He just got here.” Dakota chuckles. “And what is this folder?”
“This folder.” Laiken tosses it onto the gravel.
Ouch.
“This folder is bull.” She crosses her arms before facing me. “And I’m not doing it.”
She’s fighting it, which means she still has some feelings in there. Which gives me something to work with. If she were indifferent, I would have been worried.
I hold in a smile. “Have you expressed this to Dr. Whitaker?”
Cooper lets out a low whistle before he walks over to Dakota. “Baby, let them have a second. They clearly have something to discuss.”
Dakota narrows her eyes at me. “Parker. Do I need to kick your ass?”
“Someone needs to,” Laiken quips.
“No need.” I speak to Dakota but keep my eyes on Laiken.
We remain silent, waiting for Dakota and Cooper to disappear into their cabin.
There are a few feet between us, but it feels like a thousand miles. Add in the last seven years of separation and it’s more like a different continent.
“So I guess you were told about the rehab plan.” I break the silence.
She blows out a huff of air and a piece of her hair catches in the light breeze. Her fingers tuck it behind her ear as she shifts from one foot to the other. “Yeah. And I’m not sure what makes you think you can waltz in here and throw all your money around to get what you want.”
“I need PT. You can provide it.” I shrug. “The payment is fair.”
“It’s ridiculous,” she scoffs. “What? You think I’m going to accept it because I’m a single mom who could use it? That I”—she points at her chest—“need your money?” Her cheeks turn pink, the pretty shade spreading down to her neck.
She’s angry.
Go ahead, let me have it. I deserve it.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she sneers. “I like my life just the way it is. So you can pick up that folder.” She kicks it across the gravel. “Shove it where the sun doesn’t shine and tell Dr. Whitaker you had a change of plan.”
Her chest heaves and her eyes move from my face to the ground, then back. God, what I wouldn’t give to touch her. Hold her. I’d give up every championship I’ve ever won for just a few seconds. To turn back time and have her melt into me like she used to.
I let one boot land in front of the other, moving directly into her space. “Sorry, Firefly. No can do.”
Her eyes flare at the nickname.
“Don’t call me that,” she grits out before glancing around.
She was always the one wanting to keep everything a secret. Not me. Seems at least that hasn’t changed.
“Business is business. I signed a contract with your boss.”
She lifts her chin. “Then I quit.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve never quit anything in your life.”
Our eyes lock. “Don’t act like you know me, Parker.”
“Can you tell me why you have an issue with this? I’m just a patient needing PT,” I offer, waiting for her reaction.
Her steely eyes narrow, her freckles reflecting off the evening sun. “I don’t like being shuffled around.”
“It’s only six weeks,” I point out.
Her teeth nibble at her bottom lip. “Then you’ll be gone?”
Don’t plan on it.
“Maybe.” I lift a shoulder. “Depends.”
“On what? Your girlfriend. Wife? Whatever she is.” She waves a hand, trying to come off as casual.
Oh, you just showed your cards, Laiken Sheppard. And wife? Get real.
I take another step toward her, ignoring the comment. That explanation will come later. “It’s simple. Six weeks of personal therapy. You make some money and I get back into riding shape.”
Clearing her throat, she steps away, leaving a heavy space between us. “Why me? You could have the top therapists in the world working with you.” Her eyes close, then they peel open with vulnerability. “So why me?”
Crouching down, I scoop up the file before dropping it on the hood of her car. “Why not you?”
She stares at me for a beat, then blinks.
“Whatever.” She snatches the folder. “I’m a professional. I’m sure you won’t be the last arrogant a-hole I encounter in this career, but I actually have a choice in this. Dr. Whitaker said I have the weekend to decide.”
I suppress a laugh at the use of a-hole. Laiken was never one to curse. Fucking adorable.
I reach for her door handle, tug it open, and motion for her to slip inside. She does with ease, but I catch the top just as she goes to close it.
I brace my forearm on the top of her car. “Well, when you accept the position, just in case you haven’t fully read the rehabilitation plan. Let me inform you that my routine is daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. A lot goes into getting back on the bull.”
“Meaning?” She taps her silver-painted nails on the steering wheel with annoyance.
“It means”—I lean in a fraction, close enough to smell her perfume—“for the next six weeks, you’ll be mine.”