The Way We Play (Bradford Boys #2)

Chapter 13

13

Zane

Allie

Rachel thinks your idea is great, and so does Mrs. L. Drop Eddie off at school, and I’ll meet you outside.

Nodding, I tap back a quick okay as Edward and I walk to the Jeep. He’s brushing, grooming, saddling, and riding Shiloh all by himself now, and he looks like a real pro doing it.

“Gloria said Shiloh is eighteen,” I tell him as we pull onto the highway headed north.

I put the doors on the Jeep again when I realized his hood was so tight over his ears because of the wind. I felt kind-of like an asshole when Gloria pointed it out to me. I’ve worked around kids like him long enough to know they’re more sensitive to their surroundings.

It’s different, quieter than I’m used to it being, but he’s more relaxed in the passenger’s seat.

“She also likes that you care so much about him.”

“Did you ask her about inbreeding?”

“I mentioned it.” Reaching out, I flick on the radio to Logan’s station. At the moment, it’s playing classic country music. “She doesn’t know for sure, but she thinks he came from a reputable breeder.”

He nods, glancing out the window at the passing trees. “He should have at least ten more years then.”

“How would you feel about helping Allie at the library today?”

“At school?” His brow furrows, and he turns to me again.

“Yeah, all the kids have to return the books they’ve checked out before Christmas break starts. She could really use an extra pair of hands.”

“I don’t know the Dewey Decimal System.”

This kid. “I bet she can show you what to do. I told her you’re a fast learner.”

He looks ahead a few seconds longer, then he nods. “I can help her.”

“Great. I’ll just run you by on the way. She’ll bring you to the restaurant when y’all are done this evening.”

His eyes shoot to mine. “What about Rachel?”

“She doesn’t mind. Allie’s a friend of ours.”

Another few seconds of thinking, and he relents. “You’ll make sure the kittens are okay?”

“Yep.” I nod. “I’ll make sure they have enough water and food.”

“Let Miss Gina know where I am.”

“I’ll take care of everything.” I turn into the school entrance, and Allie waves from where she’s waiting near the office. “Have a fun day. Get to know the place.”

His brow furrows as we approach, but he puts his hand on the door. I reach over and give his shoulder a brief pat. “You got this.”

Allie greets him with a warm welcome, and my muscles tense as he gets out. I sit in the Jeep, watching as she leads him along the covered walkway and to the building. His hands are in his jeans pockets and his eyes are on his feet as he follows her, shoulders slumped.

Apprehension tightens my lungs as they go. It’s unexpected, and the closest I can get to understanding why I feel this way is remembering how Jack said he felt when Kimmie started kindergarten, watching her walk away with Mrs. Patience.

Even though he knew she was safe in school with people we know well, even though he would be just a few blocks away at the high school, he said he wanted to run after her and be sure she knew to call him if she needed anything.

He laughed at himself, telling us about it later at the restaurant, and Allie was practically swooning all over herself. That asshole has a lot of nerve hassling me about Rachel when Allie is right here, clearly in love with him—and his daughter.

I finally start the Jeep again and head out to the highway.

Rachel hasn’t left my thoughts since last night. Apologizing was the right thing to do, but so was closing that door.

She’s a beautiful, optimistic person with a whole world of possibility in front of her. She doesn’t need to be distracted by me. I’ll help her as much as I can, but I’m not that selfish.

I am confused when I see Logan’s Rover parked in the driveway. The house is empty when I enter, but it usually is. I’m sure I’ll find them in the pool or doing yoga or gardening. I need to figure out what to do about that elevator.

Walking to the office, I glance out the window to see Rachel’s massage table waiting. She keeps harping on giving me a massage, and I think I agreed to let her last night.

Standing here, in the light of day, I realize that was a big mistake. I don’t have time, and I don’t have… time .

I’m always in control.

When I turn back, Rachel is in front of me with a smile and a tall glass of bright red liquid. I nearly pitch my bag of tools.

“Shit, Rachel. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m not sneaking!” She holds out the glass. “I thought you might like some cool hibiscus tea. ”

“No, thanks.” I start for the stairs, but she hops in front of me.

“I just made it. It’s full of antioxidants and vitamins, and it reduces inflammation.”

“I prefer sweet tea.”

“I can add some sugar.”

My shoulders fall, and I give her The Look . “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” She’s in those green scrubs, and her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail.

She blinks her bright green eyes, and that sweet smile hits me right in the lower stomach. I exhale a growl and attempt to pass her. “Following me around. I asked you to stop.”

“I’m not following you. I made the tea as a thank you for what you did for my brother.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“But I do. Allie told me it was your idea for him to be her library aide so he could get used to his new school.”

Her eyes are round like she might cry and I glance away fast. I’m not about to see that.

Redirect . “I should’ve talked to you about it first, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? I just thanked you!” A light laugh bubbles from her throat. “It was the sweetest thing. And I’ve got the table warming up for your massage. Miss Gina said they’re delivering the Christmas tree after lunch, so we have plenty of time.”

“No.” I try to pass her again, and again she blocks me.

“You promised.”

Our eyes meet, and the energy it sparks strengthens my resolve. I cannot let her put her bare hands on my bare skin. “I didn’t promise.”

“Are you afraid?”

I shake my head with another frustrated growl. “I’m not afraid. I have to check the elevator. The last thing we need is Miss Gina getting trapped in it. ”

That damn thing is like a wrought-iron cage, and she doesn’t always keep her phone with her.

“Miss Gina isn’t using the elevator, because she knows you haven’t fixed it.” Rachel puts her hand in the crook of my arm. “She asked me to work on your back. She’s worried about you.”

“What?” This is news.

“She knows you’re in pain. In case you haven’t been paying attention, she listens to the sound of our voices. It’s actually very sweet how she monitors our moods.”

“It’s creepy, and I’m still not sure she’s totally blind.”

“She is.” Rachel’s fingers tighten on my arm, and I realize I’m following her as we talk. “She’s also very perceptive. She probably had to be growing up.”

“I didn’t say I would do this.”

“Come on.”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, I reluctantly follow her out to the platform I built. Two tall, overhead heating lamps keep the chill at bay, although I haven’t noticed Rachel use them when she practices yoga.

Not that I watch her exercising, or stretching in those tight little outfits.

“I usually tell people to strip.” She puckers her lips, glancing at my waist. “But you can leave your underwear on if that makes you more comfortable. I can work around it.”

Fuck me. “Rachel…” I rub my forehead. “We’re coworkers, and this feels like crossing a line.”

Especially if I pop a boner while she’s stroking my backside, because lord knows I’m not letting her touch my front.

“A bigger line than kissing?” Green eyes slant up at me, but she shakes her head, quickly adding. “We’re not actually coworkers. We happen to work for the same person, but we don’t work together.” She adopts a professional tone. “Miss Gina asked me to work on your back, so it’s more a situation where I’m your therapist.”

“I didn’t do well in therapy. ”

Her lips twist like she’s fighting a smile, like she’s not surprised. “ Physical therapy. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to get inside your head.”

My stomach is tight, and I study the table. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope.” She grins, putting her small hands on both my biceps.

Her gentle push makes me relent. “I’ll give you a second to take off your clothes. Then lie on your stomach. I’ll peek out to see when you’re ready.”

I’m never going to be ready, but I’ll get this over with so she’ll stop pestering me about it.

She walks away, in the direction of the house, although I’m not sure why. I’m not revealing any skin that wouldn’t be covered by a bathing suit. I slide my arms out of my shirt and shove my jeans down.

My hands are on my hips as I survey the narrow table, then finally with a short exhale, I lie down on my stomach in only my black boxer briefs.

“Okay!” She appears almost at once, and I wonder if she was watching me the whole time. “I’ll just put this sheet over your legs and some music on here.”

Atmospheric ocean sounds begin, and I look around at where she’s going.

“A bit of lavender aromatherapy for relaxation.” Like satellites in space, I’m very aware of her body in relation to mine and the pull of her gravity. “Now we’ll get started.”

Her voice has turned low and soothing. She rubs her hands together and then leans forward, sliding them over my shoulders. They glide easily over my skin, and I notice she’s using some kind of lightly scented oil. Her palms are warm, and she moves them from my shoulders to my neck in long, fluid strokes.

“Is the pressure good?” She leans closer as she asks.

“Yes.”

“Let me know if it’s too much. ”

It’s not. The tension in my shoulders begins to ease at once. Pain I didn’t know I was holding releases like a dam breaking, and an unexpected surge of relief aches in my body. I’ve never had a response like this to massage.

When I was on the team, we had massage therapists on staff to take care of us, but I wasn’t one of the linemen. I wasn’t a quarterback or a runner. I had one job, and it didn’t require a lot of physical therapy.

Occasionally, I’d overuse a muscle if I didn’t warm up properly, but I’ve never needed this type of work. Of course, I’d also never been hurt so dramatically. Now I understand why the guys were addicted. This is relief I didn’t know existed.

“Even though your leg has healed, your body will naturally protect the injured side.” Her voice is soothing. “You might not realize you’re overworking the uninjured side, which leads to overuse injuries, and Miss Gina has you dragging those heavy trees all over the place…”

“I bend my knees.” It’s a gentle push-back.

“You still do a lot of heavy lifting all the time. You need regular treatments.”

She moves to my lower back circling her fingers firmer and deeper into my muscles. She moves to my ass, but it’s not seductive. I’m not popping a boner because she’s finding pain I didn’t know was there.

I can’t hold back a groan as with every stroke, months if not years of stress leave my body.

My brow is tight as I turn my head. “That’s it.”

“I know.” It’s a gentle reply. “I can feel it.”

So can I. The heat of healing filters into my muscles on every pulse. It’s pretty incredible, and I hate to admit it. She’s right. This is going to change things.

“How long have you been doing massage?”

“Since college.” She gives my lower back a break, leaning closer and running her forearms up my back like rolling pins. “About five years. ”

Her soft voice is beside my ear. Her soft body is over mine, and this time a surge of heat does tighten my stomach. I think about what Miss Gina said yesterday, and I think of how good it would feel to have her naked, oiled-up body sliding against mine.

The heat in my stomach moves lower to my dick, and I think how easy it would be to roll over and pull her onto my chest, wrap her in my arms and devour her lips.

Clearing my throat I again redirect my thoughts. “Five years?”

I do the math. Rachel is Dylan’s age, which puts her right at thirty. If she was only in college five years, that’s a gap in her timeline.

“I could only go part time, so I had to spread out my classes. I did all my core requirements at the community college first while I worked. Then I spent the last five years really focusing on my specialty.”

With my eyes closed, I think about watching her work. She’s so focused, yet so beautiful. She has high cheekbones, and smooth skin. Her full lips purse when she’s thinking, and today, she twisted her ponytail into a bun, I assume to keep it out of the way.

“This is a very solid platform. It’s well-built and sturdy.” She interrupts my musing. “You built it, didn’t you?”

“Miss Gina asked me to.”

I remember working on it before Rachel arrived, thinking the new nurse would be some aging hippie who didn’t shave and ate wheatgrass and smelled like patchouli. Boy was I wrong.

“Have you always been interested in construction?”

Turning my head again, I rest the other cheek on the table. “I wouldn’t say that, but I do like building things, fixing things.”

“You do very good work.” Her voice is quiet, and she moves her fingers along my biceps, fisting her hands and using her knuckles to knead the muscles.

She flattens her palms against my forearms, wrapping her fingers around them and squeezing. It’s like an embrace, and I blink down at her arms resting against mine.

“Thanks.”

She’s so close I can smell the soft honeysuckle scent of her hair mingling with the lavender aromatherapy.

“You didn’t tell the others about my dad.” Again, it’s a quiet nudge.

“I didn’t have to tell Jack.”

“You didn’t tell Dylan.”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

My brow furrows, and I glance up at her. “For what?”

“Allowing us to be friends first. Letting her get to know me on my own terms.”

“You said you didn’t know about it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Being your own person matters a lot to you.”

She traces the tips of her fingers across the top of my shoulders in a way that feels different now, more affectionate and less therapeutic. “The past seemed to matter a lot to you.”

“I talked to Jack, and he helped me see why it didn’t need to.” I anticipate her next question, so I answer it. “If it had mattered to our parents, they wouldn’t have gone ahead with their plans. As it turns out, everything happened the way it was supposed to.”

“Like, everything happens for a reason?” A smile is in her voice.

I turn this idea over in my mind. I think about how things would’ve been different if her father had never left. Would we be different if we’d grown up together? Would our relationship be different?

Would I be lying here on this table thinking about pulling her into my arms and kissing her?

All at once, I push into a sitting position, ready to shut this down .

“What are you doing?” Her eyes blink wider. “We’re not done.”

“Thanks for the massage, but I can’t lie here all day when there’s work to do.” I start to stand, but I realize I’m only in my underwear.

Her eyes fix on mine, and her cheeks flush. Her chin dips, and she smiles. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but she doesn’t step back. Instead she steps between my legs, pumping a few drops of oil into her palms and rubbing them together.

“Now you’re doing it again.” Her voice is calm, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, circling her thumbs in the front of my chest.

My brow lowers, and I swallow roughly. What she’s doing feels really fucking good, and I don’t want her to stop. I like her here, between my legs, sliding her hands over my bare chest and down my arms, sliding her palms flat against mine and threading our fingers.

“What am I doing?” It’s almost a groan.

“Running away.”

“I’m not?—”

“How do you feel?” She lifts her chin, and she must’ve moved closer.

Her face is so close to mine I could kiss her easily. I slide my gaze along the line of her hair, down the slope of her cheek, to her full lips.

“The truth?”

I haven’t felt this good in a long-assed time. I’ve struggled to keep this above board, but I’ve tasted her sweet lips. I can’t be held responsible for what I want to do sitting here in only my underwear with her breasts rising and falling beneath that thin cotton shirt.

“I always want the truth from you.”

Lifting my hands, I put them on her upper arms, gripping her firmly. “I feel like you’re playing with fire.”

Her eyes flare, and her pink tongue slips out to lick her bottom lip again. My eyes flicker down to the movement, to the tiniest nip of teeth against plump flesh.

“You could teach me.” It’s a husky whisper that sends another surge of longing straight to my cock.

“To play?” Fuck, the idea is irresistible.

“You taught me to kiss.” Her eyes blink slowly, and she lifts her lips to my jaw. “I trust you.”

She can trust me, and looking into her eyes I see something I want. Badly. If I’m brave enough to risk truly caring again. If I take a chance it could break, and I might never recover.