Gwyneth Bolton - Make It Hot

“Actually, I’m a former Lakers fan. Now it’s all about the Suns. Shaq Diesel will go down in history as the best to ever play the game.” He flexed an arm muscle and nodded.

She could only assume he was trying to convince himself that the nonsense he was spouting was somehow true.

“On what planet? You must be delusional. Even if Michael Jordan had never played the game, Shaq would hardly qualify as the best to ever play it. And really…the Lakers? The Suns? That just lets me know you don’t have a thing to say about the sport worth listening to.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she winced.

She turned and looked at him and saw he was staring at her with a perplexed expression.

“So, because I like a different team and don’t think Jordan hung the moon, then I just need to shut up?”

Well, when you say it like that, it does sound kind of harsh.

She took a deep breath.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mr. Hightower, “yes, shut up!” He made her mouth go on extra-overload saying things she would have never said to a patient, ever.

Her father used to take her to see the Bulls when she was a kid. After he was gone, she still watched all the games on television when she could. It had been the one thing she could do to remain close to him.

However, she could maybe, possibly, put her feelings on hold for a minute.

“No, of course you don’t need to shut up. You can certainly voice your opinions, no matter how woefully misguided they are.”

Now, see, you could have left off the woefully misguided part, Samantha, she told herself.

“How about we just leave basketball alone?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She used her fake but very professional smile again. “So, I want to try a little electric stimulation today. It’s one of the methods we use to relieve pain.”

It was better to just stick to the basics with this guy. The only thing they seemed to have in common was getting him well.

Driving back to his town house in Passaic Park with his brother, Joel couldn’t stop talking about his physical therapist. She was certainly great at what she did. In one session, she had put him through more activity than he’d seen in months, and it seemed like the more irritated she became with him, the more she did.

He had a feeling Lawrence was a little bit tired of him talking about Samantha Dash, but every time he thought he was done, he would remember something else.

By the time they were sitting in his living room watching a basketball game on his large flat-screen television, he remembered the horrified look on her face when he had made his comment about Michael Jordan. You would have thought he’d said the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus should be executed at the firing range.

She rebounded quickly though. Yes, Samantha Dash seemed to be quite the trouper. He smiled.

“What are you grinning about now?” Lawrence studied him a little too intently before shrugging. “You got anything to eat in this place? How’re we supposed to watch the game with no snacks?”

“There’s some stuff back there. You know Mama and Aunt Sophie have been trying to outdo one another by keeping my fridge and my cupboards full.”

Lawrence’s eyes lit up. Although all of his brothers loved their mother’s cooking, Lawrence swore by it. In fact, he vowed he wouldn’t marry a woman if she couldn’t come close to his mother’s cuisine. Since they didn’t make them like Celia Hightower anymore, Joel figured the proclamation was Lawrence’s slick way of remaining a bachelor forever.

“Okay, what did Aunt Sophie make and what did Mama make?” Lawrence called back as he darted into the kitchen.

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to taste and see.”

“Aww, man! You know Aunt Sophie can’t cook. You’re supposed to make note of stuff like that. Why’re you keeping her food anyway? You’re supposed to throw that stuff right out in the trash. I swear, some of her food is toxic,” Lawrence yelled from the kitchen.

Joel laughed as he heard Lawrence gag and curse. He must have sampled one of Aunt Sophie’s masterpieces.

By the time Lawrence came back with his plate of “safe” Mama-made food, Joel thought he’d finally finished thinking about his physical therapist.

Then he thought about the sparks that flew out of her eyes when he snapped at her about being late. For a moment she’d looked at him as if she wanted to rake him over the coals. She was a full of fire for sure.

Little Miss Spitfire. That’s what she was.

He smiled again.

“What do you keep smiling about?” Lawrence asked as he placed his plate on the dark oak end table and leaned back in the deep burgundy leather recliner he always sat in when he came by.

Normally, Joel preferred the recliner for himself, but in the spirit of being a good host, he always allowed Lawrence to sit there. Ever since they’d been kids, Lawrence had pretty much ignored boundaries. If you let on something was your favorite, he took it over.

Favorite cup, ink pen, hat, whatever. Once Lawrence found out, you’d find him using it. He liked to irritate folks. It was easier to ignore him, but Joel was the only brother who could really do it. Both Patrick and Jason pitched fits when they found Lawrence using their favorite cup or pen. Joel let it slide. So, he made the matching leather sofa his spot whenever Lawrence was around.

“I was just thinking about how interesting the next three months will be working with Samantha. She’s excellent at her job, but she sure is opinionated. Man!”

Lawrence shook his head. “I guess you would be the best person to call it. Takes one to know one as they say.”

Joel frowned. “I’m not that opinionated.”

“Yeah, whatever. So, did she say what she thought your chances were for going back to the fire department?”

“No. We didn’t get to that, really. Plus, my doctor and the department will be the ones to make the call.”

“Have you thought about Hightower Security at all? It could be—”

Oh, no, he was starting again. For the past four months, his family had been trying to get him to think about other options just in case he didn’t get a clean bill of health to return to firefighting. He couldn’t get them to understand he wasn’t ready to consider other options.

He needed to believe he would be able to go back to the fire department.

“You know, I appreciate you taking your day off to go with me to my first physical therapy session, but I really don’t want to talk about this. I just want to get better and get back to my normal life.”

Lawrence nodded.

They watched the rest of the game in silence.

Samantha sat on her sofa, flipping the channels without a desire to really watch anything. After her horrendous day at work, she just wanted to veg out.

Joel Hightower was nothing like she had imagined him.

Why did that bother her? It shouldn’t have. He was a patient.

She’d dealt with difficult patients before. As a professional, she just had to do her job.

When her phone started ringing, she contemplated not answering it. She wasn’t in the mood for talking, especially if it was her mother on the other line.

She glanced at the caller ID. Seeing it was her friend, Jenny, the receptionist from the clinic, she picked up.

“Hey, girl. What’s up?”

“Girl, I had to leave before you were done with your last patient.” Jenny’s bubbly voice came through the phone line. “And you know I had to call you and find out how it went. I’ve never seen you almost snap on a patient before. Girl, I thought you were going to rip his head off. His fine-as-he-wants-to-be head off, I might add.”

Samantha hissed. “He’s rude, and he’s a bear.”