GARRETT HADN’T WANTED TO COME THIS WEEKEND for a lot of reasons, the primary one being he felt less worthy because he wasn’t a player right now. And many of his friends were hotshot players, all successful in their games.
He should have known better. He’d been tight with Gray, Drew, and Trevor in college. They’d bonded from freshman year, and nothing had changed in the four years before graduation. Sharing the suite had made them like brothers, and since he hadn’t had brothers of his own, these guys had known all his secrets—both the good and the bad.
He missed spending time with them, but that’s what adulthood and pro-sports careers did. Not all of the guys from his dorm had ended up in pro sports, but all his roommates had, something that had surprised the hell out of all of them. Garrett and the guys never failed to appreciate how lucky they had all been, but it had also caused them to scatter in different directions like leaves on the wind. With Gray in auto racing, Drew in hockey, and Trevor juggling both football and baseball, finding the time for all of them to get together was nearly impossible. Just getting this weekend together meant sacrifices for at least a few of the guys.
“So, how’s the injury coming along?” Gray asked as they gorged themselves on juicy steaks in the lodge dining room.
“You should ask Alicia that question. She’s the expert on my recovery.”
Alicia looked up from her soup. “He’s progressing nicely.”
Trevor snorted. “That sounds like a pat answer. How’s he really doing? Is he going to pitch this season?”
“I think he’s an amazing pitcher, and he can be one again if he works as hard at his recovery as he did at pitching.”
“Ohhh,” Trevor said, shifting his attention to Garrett. “That sounds like she’s laid down the gauntlet, buddy.”
“Yeah. She pushes me. She’s told me I’ve had my head up my ass about my recovery and I haven’t worked hard enough.” He lifted his fork and pointed it at her. “She even came to my house and banged on the door one morning when I tried to blow off therapy.”
“No shit,” Gray said, with something that looked an awful lot like admiration in his eyes.
“No shit,” Garrett said. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
“I could use someone like you on my auto-racing team,” Gray said. “My crew needs a kick-ass motivator at times. And I pay well. Interested in defecting?”
“Hey,” Garrett said.
Alicia laughed. “No. I’m happy where I am at the moment, but thanks, Gray. I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Seriously?” Garrett arched a brow at Alicia, who smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
“I have to keep my options open, you know.”
“Ooh, she’s cutthroat,” Trevor said. “I might be in love with her.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Gray said. “You’re more a woman-of-the-week type.”
“True. But if I was going to fall in love, it would be with someone like Alicia. Beautiful, smart, talented, and vicious. My kind of woman.”
Alicia laughed. “I’m hardly vicious.”
“I don’t know about that,” Garrett said. “I’ve been on the receiving end of one of your therapy sessions.”
“Now you’re going to give the guys the wrong idea about me, Garrett. I’m a marshmallow. Really.” She batted her lashes.
“Somehow I think she’s a mixture of both,” Trevor said, studying her. “Which just makes me like her more.”
“You should keep a tight hold on her, Garrett, before someone sneaks up and steals her right out from under you.”
Garrett slid a piece of steak into his mouth and didn’t answer Gray’s comment. It was unlike his guys to be so taken with a woman. In fact, he would have sworn they’d be pissed off he’d brought Alicia with him. Instead, they’d been welcoming and seemed downright enamored by her.
He couldn’t figure it out. Oh, sure, he knew she had a killer body. And a beautiful face, silky hair, long legs, and a perfect ass. She was smart and had a dry sense of humor that men would naturally fall for.
He took a long swallow of his beer and reminded himself that Alicia wasn’t his girlfriend, a woman he was dating, or even having sex with. She was a professional, and she was here this weekend to torture his shoulder.
Nothing more.
SEVEN
“WE SHOULD WORK OUT YOUR ARM,” ALICIA SAID AS they made their way back to the room.
It was past midnight, and they’d hung out in the bar after dinner, trading stories of college life. Garrett had a good time and several beers, and after a long day, he was exhausted.
“I don’t think so. I’m beat.”
“Uh-huh. And the reason I came along was so you wouldn’t miss a day of therapy. I’ll bet your arm is tight.”
It was, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it.
“I realize it’s late, and I’m not talking about a full-blown workout. But if we don’t at least stretch it, you’ll be even tighter in the morning.”
“Okay.”