For Everly (8 page)

Hell, yes. He meant it.

“Everly, we just kissed in front of half the restaurant, including several people I know,” he continued in a quiet voice. “Don’t you think it would be strange for us to pay separately?”

She clamped her mouth closed as she considered this. He watched her wrestle with his logic. Eventually, she said in an equally soft voice, “What you just did was unacceptable, Cole. You don’t just go ordering food for someone. We didn’t discuss not splitting the check. You caught me unprepared.”

Okay, she wasn’t spontaneous and she preferred to do things for herself. So noted.

“I apologize.” Then, deciding it needed to be said even if it embarrassed her further, he added, “I’m also sorry I didn’t think to suggest a more moderately priced restaurant.” When he watched her eyes drift down to the table, he wanted to kick himself again. “I’m used to trying to impress women, not conducting business with them.”

“Ah,” she said, giving him a shuttered look. “Well, no one to impress here, right?”

Not sure how to respond to that, he left it alone. “Do you forgive me?”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “I suppose if you can forgive me for kissing you in front of your friends without any warning, we’ll consider ourselves square.”

His gaze shifted briefly to her mouth at the mention of their kiss. “Great. Why don’t I give you some tips on the menu?”

He realized about halfway through their meal that they hadn’t said a word about his shoulder, and he hadn’t noticed the pain nearly as much as he had at home. He also realized that he was having a nice time just talking with her. She was really into sports, he discovered. Unlike most of his past dates who maybe knew enough about baseball to hold a conversation with him, Everly knew a lot about most sports. She wanted to focus her career on helping athletes recover from injuries that impacted their careers.

“Were you an athlete in high school?” he asked, figuring that was what motivated her in pursuing this particular career path. “I’ll admit, I had you pegged for Nerdville.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I was mayor of Nerdville. How about you? When did you know you wanted to go all the way and play pro ball?”

It shouldn’t have, but it frustrated him that she tended to give half-answers and steered the direction of the conversation away from herself. Although they’d been talking for nearly an hour, he didn’t feel he knew much more about her than he had initially. But since he was the one who dragged her out here, he’d humor her.

Besides, she was his physical therapist. Not his date.

Before the dessert course arrived, Everly said, “So, tell me when it pains you.”

She said it so casually and quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. Then he understood.

“Most of the time. Even sleeping.”

“Side sleeper? Arm tucked under your pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you sleep on your left side?”

“I try, but I always seem to end up turning over during the night.”

She nodded and leaned closer to him, reaching out and tracing idle patterns on his hand on top of the table. It took him a minute to realize she was trying to keep up the act of them being romantically involved. He had no idea why the light touch drove him so crazy.

“Try falling asleep on your left side. Place as many pillows as you can behind your back. They’ll keep you from rolling over. And hug a pillow with your right arm to reduce the strain.”

“Okay,” he said. His gaze had slipped again to her mouth as she spoke. Now he caught her gaze. “What else can I do right now to help reduce the pain? It’s hard to do normal things. Shower, dress.”

She considered this. “It would be best for your arm to be well-rested before we begin rehab.”

“I’ve been resting,” he said louder than he intended. Grinding his back teeth, he lowered his voice and continued, “Wyatt told me to rest. I’ve cancelled a bunch of stuff to just stay at home. I’m going insane.”

Dessert arrived, so he had to stew in irritation until Roberto once again departed. Then he took a bite of his soufflé to keep from venting even more.

“You may think you’re resting your arm,” she said, “but it’s harder to do than you’d believe. You’ve spent your life relying on that arm for any number of movements throughout the day. I’m sure you’re using it when you don’t even realize it. What you could try is binding it with a good sling, one that keeps your arm close to your body. Then you won’t be able to use it and further aggravate the injury.”

“For how long?”

“As you know, I have finals next week and some volunteer commitments I can’t back out of. I could start working with you on Wednesday.”

He winced. “That long?” When she nodded, he asked, “Well, can you come by my place tomorrow and show me how to fashion a sling? The only kind I know how to make is the triangle version shown in bad war movies.”

“I’ve got to study tomorrow.”

“It won’t take long,” he promised. “I can show you around the gym, too. That way you can let me know if you need any other equipment. I can order it before we really get started.”

She fiddled with her fork and gave him a considering look. He hoped he didn’t look too pathetic. When she sighed, he knew she was caving in.

“All right. I’ll be there after I drop my grandpa back home after church. Should be around eleven.”

Grinning, he said, “Thank you, Everly.”

This time, he just did a mental fist pump.

Chapter 10

Thanks to Everly’s advice, Cole slept until the housekeeper, Margaret Owens, buzzed at the gate around nine o’clock on Sunday morning. His shower and morning routine went more smoothly, too. Only a few twinges in the shoulder.

That woman really knew what she was doing, he decided.

He headed out to the kitchen for some coffee with a renewed spring in his step. When he spotted Margaret loading the refrigerator with groceries from Whole Foods, he smiled.

“Good morning, Ms. Margaret. How’s it going?”

She rose after loading some sliced deli meat in the proper drawer and turned to greet him. Her sizable frame blocked most of the fridge. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, giving her a youthful appearance. The twinkle in her brown eyes contributed to the ageless look. He’d never dared to ask her age. As best he could guess, she was somewhere in her fifties. All he knew was she had two grown children to whom he was often compared.

“Well, now, I’m doin’ well, Mr. Cole. Sho’ seems you are, too, this mornin’. Don’t usually see that smile ‘til after you’ve had a cup of coffee or two. You’re like my Monty that way.” She winked at him. “Glad to see you happy.”

Pouring coffee into his Iron Man mug, he said, “Sure can’t complain.” Margaret pulled the creamer out of the fridge and set it on the counter, so he reached over and took it. “Listen, Ms. Margaret, I’m going to have to boot you out of here a little early today.”

“You havin’ a party you didn’t tell me ‘bout?” she asked, planting a hand on her hip.

He knew that would spell trouble for him if he was. Margaret liked to be prepared for such things. It made him think of Everly and her reaction to him ordering for her at the restaurant the day before. He’d quickly learned not to spring things on his new physical therapist. He suspected he wouldn’t want to experience her fury unleashed.

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “Just having a guest over.”

“Oh?” She paused as she reached for a carton of brown eggs and gave him a surprised look. “A lady friend?”

“Now, Ms. Margaret, you know I don’t bring ‘lady friends’ here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually shoo me out early, either.”

He sipped his coffee and considered what to say. Although Margaret was his employee, she was old enough to be his mother and he’d known her for almost four years. He considered her a friend. Still, he wasn’t about to tell anyone he didn’t have to about Everly. The more people who knew, the more likely the press would find out.

“I’ll pay you for the full day,” he said at last.

“Thank you, Mr. Cole.” She smiled and went back to unpacking groceries, but he saw her give him a considering look as he ventured out to the family room.

He took a seat on his reclining sofa and flipped the television to
SportsCenter
. Then he grabbed his iPad so he could get caught up on some of the things he’d ignored over the past few days.

After scanning stocks and e-mailing his investor with a few questions and requests, he browsed through his personal e-mail. His mom had sent him a message containing an update on the household renovations she and his dad were undertaking. He had no doubt that she’d call him in the next day or two and rehash the entire message, but he dutifully read through it.

He wrote back, “Y’all need to get hobbies that keep you from watching HGTV. Keep Dad away from the power tools. I don’t want to spend any more time in the hospital, thank you very much. I’m sure the house looks great. I’ll come out and see it soon. Love you, Cole.” He paused, then added, “P.S. Don’t plant anything J.J. will dig up. Let the poor guy live to see his tenth birthday.”

J.J. was Joe Jackson, the family mutt. Cole loved that dog. His father wouldn’t give him up, though. Cole had been thinking of getting a dog himself, but he hadn’t gotten around to it.

The next message was from his agent, Wayne Shelton. It contained a list of upcoming PR obligations Cole was expected to fulfill. Some were just phone or e-mail interviews, but a few involved attending meetings, photo shoots, or social functions. He made sure that everything was plugged into his calendar, then wrote Wayne back to confirm.

He reviewed the list of remaining messages. He had to clear out some junk mail before determining what he had left to address. Then he frowned.

Three new messages from Rebecca.

Damn.

He’d met Rebecca Peterman, a good friend of his teammate’s wife, Abigail, in January at a party. Rebecca had started up a conversation with him and they connected. He dated her for about four months before she decided it wasn’t working for her. She said she hadn’t realized how demanding his schedule was going to be during the season. She wanted someone who could spend time with her…whose focus was on her, not his career. And she wanted to be invited into his home, meet his family.

He’d considered trying to make things work with her. She was smart, funny, attractive, and imaginative in the bedroom. Although she wasn’t a sports fiend, she knew enough to have an intelligible conversation about current happenings in the sports world. He really liked her.

But in the end, he’d decided that the split was for the best. Twenty-three at the time of their break-up, he was three years her junior. He knew she was in a different place in her life. She was thinking of marriage and kids and settling down. He was still riding the high of being one of the most successful pitchers in Major League Baseball. While she enjoyed the prestige that came of dating a famous athlete, she wasn’t prepared to deal with his grueling schedule.

The biggest issue in his mind had been her constant questioning. He left for spring training in Orlando a month after they met. Because she worked full-time as a clerk in the county court, she hadn’t been able to travel with him. At first, she was satisfied with his daily calls and reports about how the day went. Then her questioning grew more intense.

Why was he calling later than usual? Why was he going out to clubs with his friends when he already had a girlfriend? Who was he talking to on his cell phone when he said, “I love you?”

That last question made the difference in his decision about whether or not he should try to salvage their relationship. He’d been talking to his mother during that particular phone call and Abigail had overheard the end of the conversation. She’d reported it to Rebecca, who jumped to the wrong conclusion.

The last thing he needed to deal with was a woman who didn’t trust him. Yes, there were some ballplayers who took advantage of the females throwing themselves at them while on road trips, but Cole wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t given Rebecca any reason to doubt him and he hadn’t appreciated her suspicion. She wanted to meet his family and be welcomed into his home—a space he shared only reluctantly—but she didn’t trust him? There was no way that was going to fly.

Apparently, she had done some thinking during the course of the season. By the time September rolled around and the team was well-positioned for a playoff berth, she started calling and e-mailing him.

He took the first few calls. They had a history, after all. He listened to her apologies and assured her there was no harm done. But she didn’t let up. She left multiple voicemails and sent even more e-mails, even after he asked her to let things be.

And here he was, staring at three more messages.

Downing the rest of his coffee, he opened the first one. Then the second. Then the third. The message remained consistent. She regretted breaking things off. She realized she had overreacted. If he wanted to take things slow, that was okay with her.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he deleted all of the messages without responding. He’d been clear with her that he didn’t think a relationship would work between them. There was no sense in encouraging her.

Since he didn’t have any other e-mails worth responding to, he moved on to his social networking sites. The team had PR people who handled the players’ Facebook fan pages, but he had one of his own that only his family and real friends knew about, so he checked it and caught up on the events he’d missed. He also had a Twitter account that he’d been neglecting lately.

“I’m heading out, Mr. Cole,” Margaret said.

He looked up and glanced at the clock. Damn, it was already ten-thirty.

“Okay, Ms. Margaret. Thanks.”

“Happy to help, as always. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He set his iPad to the side and turned the television off. Rising from his sofa, he noticed that Margaret had replaced his coffee at some point. He’d finished more than half of the second cup without even realizing she’d refilled it. He carried the mug into the kitchen and set it in the sink. He was debating what to eat for a quick breakfast when the phone rang.