For Everly (6 page)

“What kinda injury?” he asked, his excitement fading into concern. “I ain’t hearda no injury.”

She normally would have corrected his poor grammar, but was too amped up to bother. “And you won’t hear about it. You can’t tell anyone about this, Pee Paw. The whole reason Cole wants to work with me is because I can do this without it ending up as tomorrow morning’s
SportsCenter
lead story. Do you understand?”

He shook his head. “Why ain’t he gettin’ treatment from one of them fancy team doctors? Are you sho’ he ain’t tryin’ some funny business here?”

The idea of Cole going through all of this trouble just to mess with her had her laughing again. “No, Pee Paw…no funny business. Wyatt Parker’s his older brother.”

“No shit?”

“Pee Paw,” she chastised, though she could hardly blame him for swearing.

“Doc’s related to Cole Parker?”

“Yep. I had no idea.”

“With all that Doc has done for you ‘n me, I can see why you’d feel obliged to help his brother out.”

He was right. She would have done just about anything for Wyatt after all the help he’d offered her.

“Somethin’ this big, you’d better start at the top, my girl.”

She did, walking him through her evening, much as she had done many other nights. She didn’t leave out her reaction to seeing Cole for the first time. Her grandpa already knew of her less-than-healthy crush on the young pitcher. Then she explained about Cole’s shoulder and why he wanted to work with her in lieu of a doctor or other type of certified specialist.

When she was done, he shook his head again. “Well, I’ll be. This here’s an opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I know!” Everly fell back against the sofa cushions and ran her hands along her hair as she looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll be able to pay Jonette for six months in advance and cover the property taxes before they’re even due, and—”

“Everly.”

She looked back at her grandpa. He didn’t often use her name.

“I’m sorry you bear the burden of seein’ to our needs,” he said, reaching across the short distance between the recliner and the sofa arm so he could capture the hand that rested there. “I’d have you enjoy this time, not stressin’ about makin’ ends meet. You’ve done that long enough.”

For the second time that night, tears burned her eyes. She forced them back. She hadn’t had any choice but to make sure their needs were met. She still didn’t.

“Sure, Pee Paw,” she responded, not wanting him upset.

He patted her hand one last time and shifted his gaze back to the television. When he cleared his throat, she knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say next.

“I got a note from your daddy,” he said. “He’s still umpin’ somewhere in Venezuela.”

Everly’s stomach pitched and she tuned out her grandpa’s words as he shared the rest of her father’s e-mail, not wanting to take her bitterness out on him. Mason Wallace was her grandpa’s son just as much as he was her father. The difference was that her grandpa had forgiven her father for leaving his family over eight years ago. She hadn’t.

She paid enough attention to what her grandpa said that she knew when he’d wrapped up his synopsis. Then she picked up the remote and unmuted
Law and Order
.

“Don’t stay up too late, Pee Paw,” she said, rising and giving him a hug.

Neither of them mentioned her lack of response regarding her father’s message. They both understood where they each fell on that line.

“I know, my girl. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chapter 7

The pain in his shoulder woke Cole on Saturday morning. Since he’d gotten less than six hours of sleep, he tried downing some ibuprofen and going back to sleep.

No go.

Cursing, he tossed his sheet and comforter aside and trudged into the bathroom. Stopping in front of a panel installed in the wall, he pressed the touch screen and set the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Then he turned on the shower to begin Phase One of waking up.

When he couldn’t raise his right arm to shampoo his hair without his shoulder screaming with pain, he cursed again. By the time he’d finished toweling off, he half-expected his mother to call and berate him for all of the profanity. She was eerie like that.

He pulled on a pair of gray cotton shorts, not bothering with a shirt so he didn’t have to lift his arm to put it on. Then he headed to the kitchen for a much-needed hit of caffeine.

He was damned tired of this. Even though he’d been trying to rest his arm like Wyatt told him, the pain wasn’t getting any better. He’d stopped going out with his friends in the evenings, not wanting to risk further injury or provoke questions if he winced in pain. He’d even asked his personal trainer to take a hiatus from their sessions, offering a lie up for an excuse.

But none of that helped
right now
.

Pouring himself some coffee and topping it with a healthy dose of creamer, he took his Bat Man mug and stepped up to the large sliding glass doors overlooking the perfectly-landscaped backyard. A fresh coat of snow sparkled on the trees, shrubs, and lawn. It was a rare sight in the city of Atlanta. He realized the sun was starting to lighten the sky.

Seven A-frickin’-M and he was awake. This was so messed up.

When sunlight dappled the back terrace in shades of gold and red, he thought of Everly. Her hair first, since the color of it was as bold as the gathering sunrise. Then just her.

He’d never met anyone quite like her. Of course, he didn’t typically date or hang around with brainy types. There had been a couple of women he dated who wore glasses and conservative clothes to achieve a sort of “sexy nerd” look, but he didn’t count them as brainy. They wouldn’t have passed for nerds even with scientific calculators in their hands once they opened their mouths to speak.

Everly, however, had surely been a nerd in high school. Taking college courses before the age of eighteen? Spending her late teens and early twenties bogged down in school and volunteer work? No social life to speak of? It all shouted Nerd Alert.

Why was that so hot?

He contemplated that question as he finished his cup of coffee and went in search of more. As he passed the kitchen island, he spotted the piece of paper Wyatt had given him the night before. Then he glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty.

Well, he was up. May as well not be the only one.

He removed his phone from its base near the coffee pot and dialed the number Wyatt had jotted on the paper. A sudden bout of nerves had him wanting to slam the phone down after the second ring. He had no idea why.

“Hello?”

She didn’t sound sleepy, he realized. “Oh…hi. Is this Everly?” he asked. Then he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. He recognized her voice and he’d called her cell phone. Who the hell else would it be?

“Who is this?”

Great. She probably thought he was some creepy stalker. He was such a dumbass.

“It’s Cole. Parker. Sorry to call so early on a Saturday. Or any day.”

What the hell was wrong with him? He scowled and poured more coffee into his mug. He probably needed more caffeine.

No, not probably. Definitely. Stat.

She didn’t reply for at least thirty seconds. Then she asked, “How did you get this number?”

Did she always have this layer of caution when interacting with people? He felt like he was under a heat lamp in a small interrogation room. If he’d had a collar, he would have tugged at it.

“Um, from Wyatt. He had it, so…you know.”

Dumbass.

“Oh.” Another pause. “Well, what can I do for you?”

Something about her choice of words and her sultry, southern tone had his gut clenching. He had to clear his throat before responding.

“I, uh, wanted to see if you could meet with me today to get started on my rehab.”

“But we agreed to start next week.”

“I know, but I want to start sooner.”

“Cole, I’ve got a million chores to do today.”

“Chores?”

“Yes, chores. I have to go grocery shopping—which means digging my car out of the snow—then clean the house, fix the leak under the bathroom sink, do the laundry…stuff like that. Chores.”

He pictured Everly out in the cold with a snow shovel. He looked around his house and thought of the housekeeper and groundskeeper he paid to keep up with such things. Frowning, he fought off his discomfort. It wasn’t his fault he had a lot of money, was it?

“Can’t you do those things tomorrow?”

“I have to study tomorrow. My Neuro finals are going to be the death of me.”

“Neuro? Doesn’t that involve the brain? What does that have to do with physical therapy?”

She didn’t respond for a moment. Then she drawled, “Do you really want to know?”

That made him laugh. “Okay, no. Listen, I’m not asking for your entire day. You have to eat sometime, right? Why don’t we have lunch and you can walk me through what lies ahead. Maybe there’s something I can do now to get started.”

“Cole, a few more days won’t—”

“Please, Everly.” He took a deep breath to calm the ever-present fear threatening him. Fear he might never pitch again. “I have to do something. This pain is pissing me off.”

She hesitated. “Well…”

“It’s either you, or I’m heading for the bottle of scotch.”

Another pause, then a sigh. “What time do you want to meet?”

He did a victory fist pump, only belatedly remembering that he held a mug of hot coffee in his hand. It splashed onto his arm, abdomen, and the floor. A string of curses resulted as he set the mug down and hurried to the sink to run cold water over his skin.

“Are you okay?”

He flushed as Everly’s voice filled his ear. He’d forgotten he was on the phone.

Yeah, he was the King of Dumbasses.

“Yeah. Just a small coffee mishap. Don’t mind me. Probably just second degree burns.”

“Ah. Aloe helps.”

“Doubt I have anything resembling aloe around here.”

“That’s too bad. I’ve found chocolate chip cookies help in a pinch.”

He snorted out a laugh as he dried himself with a hand towel. “Is that official medical advice?”

“Well, I’m only a student. But field studies have generated convincing proof.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. So, as to lunch…how about noon?”

“I can make that work.”

“Do you want me to come by you?”

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “I can meet you somewhere.”

She didn’t want him coming to her house. Interesting. Yet another layer to the enigmatic Everly Wallace.

“All right. Where will you be driving from?”

“Not far from the stadium.”

“Easy enough, then. I know the perfect place. It’s about halfway for both of us.” He rattled off the address as he wiped up the spilled coffee from the floor.

“Okay,” she said. “This is a business lunch, so we’re going Dutch.”

Walking back to the sink to rinse the dishrag, he shrugged with his left shoulder. “Sure.”

“See you at noon.”

The line went dead in his ear. He dried his hands, hung up the phone, and returned it to its base. Then he just stood there as he replayed the conversation in his head. God, what a disaster.

He’d never had trouble holding his own in a conversation with a woman. Everly had to think he was a total spaz. His forearm stung where he’d burned himself.

Fist pump? Really?

Dumbass.

Remembering her comments, he found himself grinning. Then he walked to the pantry and dug out some Chips Ahoy.

Doctor’s orders
, he thought, and bit into his medicinal breakfast.

Chapter 8

OhGodOhGodOhGod…

The two words repeated on fast forward in Everly’s mind as she hung up with Cole. She leaped from her bed and dashed down the hall to the house’s only bathroom. Seeing the light on beneath the door and hearing the shower running, she muttered to herself and ran back to her bedroom.

Then she stood there and looked around as she tried to remember what she was doing.

Oh, yeah. Chores.

Followed by lunch with Cole Parker.

OhGodOhGodOhGod…

She zipped to her dresser and yanked out the first warm clothes she could find. Then she changed out of her pajamas and into the clothes. Her socks didn’t match. It was a testament to her frazzled state of mind that she wore them anyway.

When she caught herself jogging down the hall to the coat closet, she forced herself to calm down. Rushing through shoveling the drive was likely to end up with her breaking or straining something by slipping on the ice. She bundled up in her winter coat and boots, shoving a knit hat on her unbrushed hair and wrapping most of her face and her ears with a fleece scarf. After donning her gloves and a pair of sunglasses, she opened the front door and headed to the shed.

The unusually frigid air filled her nostrils through the scarf. She found it brisk and bracing, but knew she’d be cursing it before she finally returned to the warmth of the house. Careful to avoid patches of ice, she reached the barn-like building in one corner of the backyard. The snow shovel dangled from a nail hook she’d created.

She carried the shovel to the driveway. Only a few inches of snow, she realized. Certainly more than the city was used to this time of year, but not too bad. It almost didn’t need shoveling.

Why was Cole insisting on lunch? The question ran through her mind as she shoveled. Was it really because he was in so much pain? If so, why did he want to meet in a public location? Wasn’t he worried people would overhear them talking?

Of course, she’d basically said she didn’t have time for him. Having lunch together was an option that put time constraints on their meeting, which meant he couldn’t monopolize her day. She was grateful for that.

Right?

“Hey, Evs!”

She looked up at the sound of the youthful voice and spotted one of the neighborhood kids, Rayshawn, standing at the end of her driveway. His slim ten-year-old body looked twice its normal size with all of the gear he wore. All she saw above his colorful scarf was his dark brown eyes, which crinkled at the corners. He had braced himself on the handle of a shovel that was as long as he was. She saw it was a garden shovel and coughed on a laugh.