Fly Away, page 7
part #5 of Baxter Boys Series
The thing was, half the time he was wondering why he didn’t just kiss her. She obviously wasn’t telling him no. He couldn’t even get her to fight him if he begged.
That was easy on the ego.
Or maybe she was just so surprised that her therapist would be so unprofessional. She didn’t say. But it was impossible now for him to do therapy with her and not notice her wild and determined scent. It held just a hint of fruit and all of Dusty. He craved it more than coffee.
Or her hair, which he’d loved from the first but had to fist his hand to keep from running his fingers through it.
Or her...
He shook his head. He had to stop thinking about her.
He tried to focus on finishing the last patient’s notes. It was Friday, and after he went to Dusty’s and gave her the last session for the week, he would find something to do to take his mind off a certain blue-eyed blond.
He clicked out of the computer program.
“Hey, Roland.” Abigail stood on the other side of the high counter, her hand on a patient’s folder.
Jerking his head at her, he said, “Abigail.” Gathering his folder, he placed it on the pile to be filed.
When he looked up, Abigail was still in the same spot, still looking at him.
“I have two tickets to the doubleheader baseball game tomorrow.” She gave him a sweet smile. “Are you interested?” She held up a hand. “Just a friends thing. I’m not trying to start an office romance.” She fake shuddered. “That would be awkward.”
Yeah. Not quite as awkward as obsessing over his patient. But still awkward.
But here was the distraction he needed. Getting out of the house. A good ball game. Abigail would be decent company.
Yeah, this was exactly what he needed.
“Thanks for thinking of me, but I can’t. I, uh...” And he couldn’t think of an excuse. The silence became awkward.
Finally her sweet smile became an annoyed frown. “You just don’t want to go with me.”
He sighed and let his head fall forward. “If I accepted, it’s because I have someone else on my mind, and I’d only be using you as a distraction.” There. He liked honesty, but that might have been a little too brutally honest.
But Abigail nodded. “I appreciate you being straight with me.” Her lips curved back up a little. “We really could go just as friends.”
It still didn’t sit right. He shook his head. “Thanks anyway.”
“Enjoy your weekend,” she said as she grabbed the next folder and walked away.
“You too.”
On his way out to his car, his phone buzzed with a text.
Eat with me tonight?
Dusty.
He wanted to say yes. Just three letters. His thumbs hovered over the keypad. But his career loomed large behind him. Could he eat with her again? Spend an evening sparring with her? Laughing with her? Admiring her? And not cross that line?
Probably not.
He forced his thumbs to move. Not tonight.
When he arrived at her house, Blanche let him in. They’d been doing this enough that he walked himself down the stairs.
Dusty was ready with her brace off, sitting on the barstool, looking at her phone.
“Hey, you made it.” She smiled, but her cheerfulness seemed forced.
His was definitely fake. “You ready? Let’s do this.”
Their whole session was like that, each of them pretending to be happy, neither of them actually feeling it.
Finally they finished up the last exercise, and she moved to put her brace back on.
Rather than go over to his computer, he moved over beside her. She ignored him. Like she didn’t know he was there.
“Dusty?”
“Yeah,” she said, bending over, fumbling with the brace that she could put on and off in her sleep.
“I can’t eat with you and keep the professional distance that needs to be between us.”
“Whatever.” Dusty kept her head down.
He hunkered down and placed his hands over hers. They were soft and warm, and he wanted to slide his hands over her skin, linking their fingers together. He didn’t.
She pulled her hands away and started working on her brace again.
“Listen to me, please,” he said softly.
“I heard you. You don’t want to stay. Some professional crap. Whatever. It’s fine.” She emphasized the last statement with a last tug at her brace and pushed herself up.
He almost fell backward getting out of her way.
“I’m serious.”
“Me too. I decided I’m going out tonight anyway.” She looked him in the eye with a shrug and a smile that didn’t make it to her eyes. “I need to get ready. We’re done here.”
“You’re not allowed to drive.”
“What’s the doctor going to do? Call the police? They can arrest me. That’s fine. I’m sick of sitting around, and I’m not doing it tonight.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Actually, never mind. You’re the professional, and I’m just the lowly person, same as every other lowly person you work with all day long. It violates our professional relationship for me to even tell you this. Forget I said anything. You don’t need to know what I’m doing tonight or any other night—”
She stopped abruptly as he stepped close and gripped her fists. “Stop. I care about you, Dusty. Too much.” Her eyes snapped to his. They narrowed as though reading his mind, checking it out, and making sure he was being honest.
He couldn’t stand being so near to her and not touching her. He dropped one of her hands to cup her cheek. “It kills me to walk out every day, thinking about you here, alone, and me going home, alone, and how much better it would be for us to be together.”
“Then why not stay?”
His throat closed, and he tried to speak around the big knot in it. “I don’t think I can be just friends with you.”
“Then don’t be just friends.”
He looked away. “I can’t be more.”
“I’ll find another therapist.”
He jerked his head back. She shifted her hand, and he realized he was squeezing her fist painfully.
His chest constricted, and he couldn’t breathe. “No.”
“It’s the perfect solution.”
“I don’t trust anyone else to give you the best care possible.” All the nights he couldn’t sleep, he spent up searching for exercises for Dusty’s specific injuries. Reading case studies about what had worked and what didn’t. He could recite many of them from memory. No one else would put that kind of time into her recovery. She might never walk without a limp again. She might always have back pain. She might never regain full motion in her shoulder, but it wouldn’t be because her therapist hadn’t turned over every stone, hadn’t used only the best techniques, hadn’t spent hours researching and sorting and analyzing the data.
“That’s my decision,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He hesitated. “Sit down for a minute.”
Dusty never questioned him when he told her what to do with her therapy, so he was a little surprised when she resisted the pressure of his hand that still held her balled fist.
“What? Is this something so bad I need to sit down?”
“I need to sit.”
“Oh.” Her face softened. “Okay.”
He dropped her fist, and they went over to the bar where his computer sat. She adjusted the stool and sat. He sat at the end, somewhat facing her. Then he popped back up. He hadn’t told this story since it happened. His parents knew some. His brother much less. But for some reason, he felt like he needed to tell Dusty everything.
“I was engaged once.”
Her mouth opened then closed. “I think you mentioned a fiancée once.”
“Her name was Janice.”
“That’s right. You...you talk about her in past tense. What happened?” Her fingers fiddled with her ponytail.
Before he could begin, a voice came down the stairs. “Where’s my little sis?” A tall man with blond hair who looked to be around fifty appeared. He was trailed by a young man with hair a shade darker.
Dusty stiffened then stood. “Max. Tucker.” She smiled, but it was her fake smile, and got up. Roland watched as Dusty walked over, trying her best not to limp. If he hadn’t spent so much time with her, he might not have noticed, but it was obvious to him that she was trying to hide her weakness.
“Max, this is Roland, my physical therapist.”
“Your therapist?” Max’s blue eyes narrowed, his crow’s feet fanning out on both temples. “You guys were a little cozy for a therapist, don’t you think?”
Roland slanted Dusty a I-told-you-so look, which she ignored. He stepped forward. “We were done with the session, and I was just leaving.” He held his hand out. “Good to see Dusty has some family around.”
“This is my nephew Tucker.” She indicated the boy, and her fond smile was real. “Tucker, meet Roland.”
Max and Tucker both shook his hand. Roland was impressed with the boy’s firm grip and how he met his eye. He was tall, like his dad, his shoulders showed the promise of width, and his eyes were intelligent and kind. Roland immediately liked him. He didn’t get the same feeling about Max.
“Well, little sis, I guess we came at a good time, then. Since the therapy guy is heading out.” Max laughed like he’d said something funny.
Dusty shifted uncomfortably. This was her brother and nephew. It was okay for Roland to leave her alone with them, right?
He tried to meet Dusty’s eye, but she gave him her fake smile. “I’ll need to let Blanche know if you’re staying for supper.”
“Blanche is still here?” Max said with surprise. “I can’t get any housekeeper to stay more than a month or two. How about it, Tucker?” He laughed again. Roland figured he must be one of those people who laughed after everything he said. As in, “My dog died.” Big laugh. “Saturn has rings.” Big laugh. “I haven’t been in to see my sister since she was almost killed in a motocross accident.” Big laugh.
Roland shook his head and headed toward the door.
“Thanks,” Dusty said behind him.
He turned. Was she being sarcastic?
He was behind Max who was telling Dusty about the traffic they’d run into on the way there. Meeting Dusty’s eyes behind Max’s shoulder, he mouthed, Do you want me to stay?
Her nod was almost imperceptible.
Okay, he mouthed back.
She brightened immediately. “Oh, Roland. You know, you could stay too. Max has so many fascinating stories from the time he spent in China.”
Max turned. “That’s true. China is wide open for investment if you know how to work around their government.” He laughed. “They’re cheap as all get-out, and the person who can cut the most corners wins.” He laughed again. “You just don’t want to use their subway. Never know when the thing is going to collapse.” He laughed. “Same with skyscrapers. Couldn’t pay me to go in one of those.” He laughed. “Yep. Basically, there aren’t any safety standards. Which makes the red tape easy.” Yep, he laughed again, and Roland figured this was going to be one long night.
~~~
Dusty chewed her food, whatever it was, she couldn’t taste it, and tried to keep a pleasant expression on her face. For Tucker’s sake.
Max laughed again, and she tried to turn her grimace into a smile. Across the table from her, Roland seemed to be occupied with the same struggle. Her smile became real as she stifled a laugh at the contortions the corner of his mouth went through. Down, up, down, up, twist back, flatten, up. There. It was up. Wait. Back down. She giggled.
His eyes snapped to hers. Immediately she shoved another spoonful of food into her mouth.
“And that’s why I left China, never to return.” Max laughed before reaching for his wineglass.
Dusty took a sip of her water. At least having Max here interrupted the doldrum of her day.
“I see,” Roland said. Although Dusty was pretty sure he didn’t see at all. He had been so busy trying to make himself smile, he couldn’t possibly have been paying attention. “Tucker. Have you been spending all these years in China, too?”
“No—”
“Glad you mentioned him. He’s the reason we’re here.” Max laughed.
Dusty cringed.
“You’re going to that race tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Roland’s water glass hung suspended in midair. His eyes met Dusty’s. It felt like guilt oozed out of every pore. She dropped her gaze before straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.
Before she could open her mouth, Roland said, “She’s going with me.”
She barely contained her relief behind a cool smile. “Yes. Roland is taking me to the race tomorrow. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Therapist, my foot,” Max muttered.
Dusty was so relieved he didn’t laugh that she almost laughed. She stopped herself just in time. After a few days with Max, it took her a month to laugh without self-consciousness again.
“Dusty is still not steady on her feet, but of course she couldn’t miss the race. She’s paying me to accompany her,” Roland said, his face a mask of innocence.
Dusty was so relieved, she figured she really would pay him.
“Great. Great.” Max laughed. “Tucker has been asking to go for a long time. Several years. But those track grandstands are hotbeds of germs and diseases, and his mother wouldn’t even consider going with him. So, I decided he could go with you.” He laughed.
Dusty stared at him, her food forgotten. “You want me to take him?” she asked, thankful that was the question that came out of her mouth and not, “Why would a twenty-something-year-old man need me to take him to a motocross race?”
Max looked at her like she’d just asked him if the ocean was wet. “Of course. When we go somewhere, we don’t go as plebeian spectators. We meet the important people.” He laughed. “The people with money, of course.” He laughed again, but his blue eyes never left Dusty’s face. “I assumed, since our parents made sure I understood how good you were at the bike racing, that you know the people he needs to be introduced to.” He laughed. “Don’t waste his time with anyone else.”
“I actually just wanted to watch the—”
Like his son hadn’t spoken, Max said, “I’m not going. I’m getting a massage and meeting friends of mine for a vineyard tour and wine tasting.” He laughed. “I’ll be back late—don’t wait up—and we’ll leave after brunch Sunday morning.”
He put his spoon down and drank the rest of his wine. He looked around. “Where’s Blanche? Someone needs to tell that woman how to buy good wine.” He laughed and poured himself another glass.
Dusty noticed that Roland was finished eating. At least she could get him out of here. She tapped her napkin to her lips then set it down. “If you’ll excuse us, Roland had something he needed to do tonight.”
“That’s fine. See you later, Roland.” Max’s laugh grated on Dusty’s last nerve. Her hand fisted in her lap.
“I need your help,” Roland said, and Dusty managed to keep herself from leaping over the table and kissing him by the barest fraction of self-control.
“Of course. You don’t mind, right, Max?” The tone of her voice held relief. Max would probably not notice.
“Nope, not at all. Tucker and I are going to watch the game.” He looked around. “Where’s your TV?” He laughed. “Blanche better have the bar stocked.”
Dusty didn’t know or care. She was up before he had the statement out of his mouth. Her eye caught on Tucker, and a small amount of pity popped in her chest. But it was soon gone. He was a man, old enough to stand up for himself. Which is what he needed to do if he were ever going to get out from under Max’s command. Even as she thought that, though, she respected a son who honored his father. Even if that father was as annoying as Max.
Tucker watched her with the blue eyes of his dad. She gave a little shrug. “I’ll let you know what time we’re leaving tomorrow.”
He nodded. Really, Tucker seemed like a decent guy. He was her nephew, but since they lived so far away, she’d never really gotten to know him. Maybe tomorrow would be her chance.
Chapter 10
Roland followed Dusty out of the kitchen, Max’s laugh ringing in his ear. “Man, I feel bad for his wife,” he said softly over Dusty’s shoulder.
She opened the front door. “They’re divorced.”
Roland didn’t say the sarcastic comment that came to his mind. The guy was Dusty’s brother. He walked through the front door, closing it behind him. “He seems like an okay guy.”
Dusty lifted a shoulder. “He is. Harmless.”
“Is this the first time he’s been here since your accident?”
“Yep.” Dusty stopped at the bottom of the steps and stood on the walk.
Roland bit his tongue again. If Dusty were his sister, he’d have been by her side the entire time. He wasn’t close to his brother, but if his brother had an accident, Roland would at least have visited and checked to see if there was anything he could do.
He tried to shove aside the anger at Max for being a selfish bore. After all, her parents didn’t care either. It must run in the family.
“What about your other brother?”
“Mitchel is a year younger than Max. He’s married with two girls.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I really don’t know them that well. They were both in college when I was born.”
Dusty stood before him, so sweet and vulnerable. Tough and strong, of course, but hurting because her family didn’t really seem to care about her. If only he could fix all the things that were wrong in her life. Give her a family that cared. Give her everything she wanted. But Roland knew he wouldn’t really be doing her a favor. If he took away the struggle, the victory wasn’t as sweet.
Still, something inside of him longed to hold and comfort her. He stepped a little closer to her and put his hand on her cheek, before he remembered that he was her therapist and Max already thought their relationship was too close. Exactly what Roland had feared.
