Laurel Greer - A Father For Her Child

She tried to laugh but her heart cramped.

Zach’s lips curved in a forced smile. Good to know—she had him working to the point of not being able to comfortably talk. Either that or he didn’t like Ben growing up, either. Maybe both.

He finished up his leg balances and she rushed him into the next exercise. She held out two pool noodles. “Pink or orange?”

A hint of amusement warmed his eyes to a mossy green and he grabbed the candy-pink foam tube.

“Sure, leave me with the one that clashes with my bathing suit,” she teased, tucking the tube around her back and under her arms. Using the water as resistance, she took him through another thirty minutes of therapy. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the series of half-moon indents on her leg from the number of times she’d dug her nails into her skin while he’d done push-ups against the pool wall. The effort it took not to stare at his chest made her pulse race.

Yeah, right. That effect is from the chest itself, not the effort.

After finishing a set of squats that made him flinch in a way she didn’t like, he glanced at the clock. “We done?”

“In the pool? Almost. Swim a few laps to cool down and then hit the showers. But I want you to meet me at Evolve. My office is still a disaster, but the table’s set up. And I want to work you through some physical manipulation.”

She kept a visual track on him as he pushed off from the bottom of the pool and headed for the other side, which was cordoned off as a lap lane. Did he depend on his left arm and right leg in the water as much as he did on land? She’d probably find some impressive knots of muscle in a few places. She knew how to loosen those.

The knots in her stomach were another story.

“Evolve in twenty?” she asked once they’d gotten out of the pool.

He grimaced and toweled off his hair.

His clear reticence sent the butterflies in her stomach even more atwitter than they’d been while trying not to stare at his pecs.

Client. Professionalism time. “Are you more sore than normal?”

“Nah.”

Ah, so he was in a constant state of pain, then. Stubborn man.

“Hey. Have a seat.” She pointed at the plastic deck chairs where they’d left their towels. He eased into one of them and she took the other. She made sure she had full eye contact with him before she continued. “We don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. We don’t have to do this at all. I know I can help you. And successfully rehabilitating you will benefit Evolve. But if it doesn’t feel right to you for us to work together, you need to be honest about that. Our friendship is more important to me.”

He held her gaze, but his eyes were more guarded than usual. He’d definitely thrown up an emotional barrier of some sort. Sucking in a breath, he shook his head. With his hair still wet from the pool, the strands stuck together. One clump fell across his forehead. He pushed it back. “I should get my hair cut.”

Non sequitur much? And from her angle, the length flattered. Demanded to have fingers run through it. His nervousness, however, broadcast a clear “don’t touch” message.

“Seriously,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Tipping his head back, he stared at the observation deck for a few seconds before reverting his attention to her. “I’m tired today. Can you give me something to do at home instead?”

His deferral hollowed her chest until emptiness tugged at her ribs. Tired? Or reluctant? Had he picked up on her attraction? Her stomach curdled. If she lost his friendship because she couldn’t get her freaking hormones under control, she’d never forgive herself. “I—I can do that to a point, but I want to work you through some range of motion exercises before I draw up a home program.”

He shrugged and stood. “I’m not going to screw up my recovery with one day of solo rehab.”

He’d been screwing up his recovery for months, but his mouth was too drawn to remind him of that. “You have a stability ball at home? And some two-pound weights? Draw the alphabet while holding those — I’m assuming you’ve done that before?” She paused until she got a brisk nod from him. “And tie a stretch band to one of the support posts on your back railing and do three sets of fifteen extensions per side.” She demonstrated the fly motion she wanted him to do.

“That’s wimpy stuff, Cadence.”

“Yeah, well, until I have a more complete assessment of where you are, I’m not giving you more. Your swimming today demonstrated an acceptable range of motion for your right arm versus your left. But you’re still walking with a heck of a limp.”

He made a face.

God, how awesome would it be to kiss off that —That nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing . “And meet me here tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. In the afternoon, we’ll meet at the Evolve gym. Plan for a month of two-session days. As long as you’re serious that you don’t have a problem working with me.”

“This is fine. We’ll be fine. I’m excited to work with you.” Jamming his crutches under his arms and slinging his towel over his shoulders, he smiled at her.

The false tilt to his lips made the emptiness spread from her chest to her stomach. She watched him as he disappeared into the locker room, wishing to the bottom of her heart that he was telling the truth. And knowing he wasn’t.

His health demanded she persist, though. She couldn’t watch him suffer anymore. But in helping him heal, she had to make sure she didn’t irreparably harm their friendship. She wouldn’t have made it through the last year and a half without him. And the year and a half to come, and the one after that... She needed him to be her rock then, too.

* * *

After showering off the chlorine, Zach made his way back to his truck and hoisted himself in. Proof of some progress, at least. A few weeks back he’d been stuck trading vehicles with Cadie because he couldn’t get into his pickup. She’d done him that favor, even though she didn’t owe him anything. And he’d switch to her care if it would make a difference for her career.

Gripping the wheel, he filled the cab with a string of profanity. Filthy enough that he half expected his Colombian-born, Catholic father to reach across the thirteen-hundred kilometer distance separating them to cuff the backside of the head. Didn’t matter that Zach was a grown-ass man of thirty-two—his dad was the best of fathers but hadn’t lost his strict standards for his children.

And it wasn’t like blue language was going to extract Zach from the tangle he’d agreed to.

Backing his truck out of the parking spot, he took a centering breath. Suck it up. No complaining . He’d follow through with the rehab. And with keeping his feelings to himself.

As he wended his vehicle through the streets of Sutter Creek—an attractive mix of the ski-town architecture Zach had grown up with in Whistler, along with some western elements for flavor—he gripped the steering wheel and hardened his jaw. He’d promised Sam he’d watch over Cadie and the baby for as long as they needed.

And for your own sake. He winced as his conscience prodded him with the truth. Yeah, selfish motivations painted a lot of what he did for Cadence Grigg. Because even though he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell her he loved her, he could sure as hell show her without words. Without hands, too. Cadie would have to touch him for rehab purposes. But he’d still keep his hands off.

If he ventured beyond their usual hugs, actually took the opportunity to savor her smooth skin under his palms... His groin tightened and he groaned. Time for a new train of thought. Maybe he could sneak into the lodge office and throw some paperwork around. His doctor had limited his hours and activities at work, but he did what he could to stay in the loop. Not nearly enough. The entire summer season would be burned by the time he was ready to return in full capacity.