Thrown by a Curve

She looked over at him. “Definitely. I need it after all that food. Let me go grab my sweater.”


She came back with a sweatshirt instead. “Couldn’t find my sweater. I know I packed it.”

“We can go shopping if you need some stuff. There’s a mall a few miles away.”

“You’d offer to shop with me again?”

“Not voluntarily, but if you need something, I don’t mind taking you.”

She shook her head. “How bizarre.”

He opened the back door, and they walked down toward the beach. Alicia threw the sweatshirt over her head.

“How am I bizarre?”

“Men don’t shop. It’s unnatural.”

“I was just offering to drive you there. Didn’t say I’d go shopping or anything.”

“Still, it’s such a nice gesture.”

He glanced over at her as they wandered down the beach. “I’m not even sure how to take that. No guy ever took you to the mall?”

“No.” She slid her hands in the front pockets of her hoodie. “That’s a girl thing.”

He laughed. “You have some strange notions. You do see men at the mall when you’re there, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“And men with women—together.”

“Yes. I’ve just never gone shopping with a guy. Except with you, of course.”

“You do realize I don’t mean to pick out nail polish with you, right?”

She shot him a look. “Uh, yeah. I think I get that.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take you again, just to prove guys aren’t only interested in sitting in front of the television drinking beer and playing video games.”

She stopped, tilted her head up. “We’re here to work on your shoulder, Garrett. This isn’t a vacation.”

“I don’t think you’re going to spend twenty-four hours a day rehabbing me.”

“You’re right, of course. But you need to wrap your head around the fact that we’re going to push it hard together while we’re here.”

The way she said it made his cock twitch. He should look on her as a professional, but in her oversize hoodie and those stretchy pants that clung to her great ass, it was hard to think about her as a physical therapist. They were going to be alone in a house together, and she was an attractive woman. And that kiss . . .

“You’re doing it again,” she said.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me.”

He shook his head. “So, now I’m not supposed to look at you?”

“Not that way.” She turned and headed down the beach.

He watched her ass move as she walked.

He might be her patient, and she might be the therapist, but he was still a man.

And she still had a great ass that was going to be hard for him to ignore.





TEN


ALICIA FIGURED THE BEST WAY TO GET GARRETT TO stop giving her those looks—the ones that made her heat up from the inside out—was to get started on his therapy routine as quickly as possible.

He’d forgotten how awful it was—how awful she was. A quick reminder should take care of those hot looks he kept giving her.

The sooner he hated her, the quicker he’d regard her as if she were the devil. And she really needed him to hate her, because she sure liked the way he looked at her.

After their walk on the beach last night, she’d come back to the house and gone to her room to finish work on his treatment plan. She’d ended up falling asleep sideways on the bed, and had woken this morning disoriented and still in her clothes. It had taken her a minute to remember where she was.

That’s what a comfortable bed and jet lag did to her.

She took a shower and dressed, then made her way to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, tapping her fingers on the counter as she breathed in the scent. When she poured a cup and took her first sip, she groaned.

“That good?”

She looked up to find Garrett leaning against the wall.

He must have gone out for a run this morning; he was sweaty and his hair was still damp, curling against his neck. He wore sweats, a sleeveless shirt, and tennis shoes. Her stomach clenched as she drank in the sight of his muscular arms.

Seeing him at the team facility to work on his shoulder was one thing. Living with him and spending every minute of every day with him? Something else entirely.

She wanted to tell him to go away, but she had no valid reason to tell him that other than it bothered the hell out of her that he was so goddamn sexy.

“Yes, it’s that good. Would you like a cup?”

“What I’d really like is orange juice.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

Grateful to have an excuse to turn her back on him, she lifted a glass out of the cabinet and poured one for him.

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