Line of Scrimmage (18 page)

“Oh.” She laughed. “Trust me. If Jake is going to open up to anyone, it certainly won’t be me.”

“But the two of you seem to have reached a sort of détente. I thought…”

Erin shook her head. “I think you can forget about that.”

“Too bad. Well, you’ve done great keeping his uninjured leg and wrist flexible, but now he has to start rehabbing that wrist.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. “We use this clinic all the time. I’ve arranged for someone to begin work with him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be here every day, except weekends.”

Erin twisted her lips in a wry grin. “That ought to be fun.”

DiMarco smiled. “I’m sure. I should have called first to let you know, but I didn’t want to give Jake too much time to pitch a fit. Will three o’clock work?”

“That’s fine.” She chuckled in spite of herself. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

* * * *

She finished dinner preparations, then carried their food out to the patio off Jake’s bedroom. When it was ready, she walked into his room. Since their clumsy attempt at sex, he hadn’t shown an interest in a repeat performance. Had he lost interest in her? Was he frustrated by the situation with his cast? She could certainly sympathize with that. But dammit, now
she
wanted a repeat performance and had no idea how to let him know without backing down on all her principles.

Oh, yeah, Erin. Principles give you great orgasms, right?

Shut up,
she told the voice in her head.
Just. Shut. Up.

She helped him with the minor exercises every day, but that seemed to be the extent of his interest in anything. For whatever reason, he was retreating from her. The careful lack of expression on his face and the indefinable look in his dark eyes were signs to her that something was festering deep inside him. She just wished she could figure out what it was. If he had no interest in life, he’d have no life to get back to.

She pointed to the patio. “Dinner’s waiting for you at the table. Time to eat.” Since he got his crutches, she’d bullied him into taking his meals on the patio. He still gave her grief about it, but she thought it had become more of a game than anything.

“Is that any way to treat a cripple?” His tone was still tongue-in-cheek, although she sensed the bitterness at his situation underneath it as he gave her his usual comeback.

She laughed at that one. “You’re getting to be less and less a cripple every day.”

And like that, the playful tone was gone.

“Do you see me on the football field these days?” Anger flared in his eyes. “If I’m not out there, I’m a cripple. The cast tells everyone.”

“You can’t let football define you,” she tried telling him, remembering her conversation with DiMarco. As she’d gotten to know Jake, she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he was so much more than that guy on the field.

“Yeah? Well, news flash. It does.”

“Okay, enough with the pity party.” She pointed to the patio. “The table’s set and everything is ready. Get your ass out of bed and come eat.”

Mumbling under his breath, he levered himself upright, grabbed his crutches, and maneuvered himself out to the covered patio. When he’d made it into one of the chairs, he leaned his crutches against each other.

“Looks good,” he told her, eyeing the food. “I didn’t think chicks liked to cook anymore.”

“I don’t know what kind of
chicks
you hang out with, but I enjoy cooking. It’s relaxing.” She paused. “Be truthful. Isn’t it better eating out here instead of hugging a tray in bed?”

“Maybe.” He said the word grudgingly.

She’d thought he might clump his way into the kitchen for meals now that he was more mobile. However, it seemed Jake was going to push every one of her buttons. Getting him out to the patio off the master bedroom was an alternative for her.

Over dinner, she told him about the physical therapist DiMarco had arranged for.

Surprisingly, he didn’t argue about it. Instead of biting back, complaining that his hand was no good when his leg didn’t work, he surprised her.

“It’s a beginning,” he told her. “I’m a running back. My ability to take the handoff of the ball is almost as important as my ability to run with it. First I get my hand to work, then my leg. Right?”

“Of course.” She smiled encouragingly. “It’s all good.” She hoped with the new changes Jake would be in a good mood.

After dinner, she got him settled for the night. She wanted to tell him he could fetch anything else he needed from the kitchen, but she reminded herself everything was baby steps.

“I have some things to do in my room,” she told him. “Do not use the intercom unless it is a vital emergency or I’ll break your finger.”

“But you’re supposed to be my caretaker,” he reminded her.

“For anything you can’t do for yourself,” she said. “You can certainly get yourself to the bathroom and the kitchen.”

Before he could say anything else, she headed down the hall.

With Jake settled for the night—she hoped—she was ready to carve out some time with her laptop and get back to job hunting. She had plans and a new determination. Four hours later, she’d found only a few opportunities worth exploring, but it was better than nothing. And she needed to get to bed. The day started early in the Russell house.

She came awake the next morning with a feeling of trepidation. In addition to ordering the therapy, the doctor had also pronounced Jake well enough with his wrist healed to shower and shave.

“He’ll need to wrap the cast completely in cling wrap,” Moline had said. “You know, to protect it.”

Today the man who’d been helping him with his routine was going to show both of them how to do it. Oh, joy. The cast extended clear up his leg almost to the top of his thigh. And his balls. And his cock. Erin knew she’d have to be the one to help him. She could just imagine his grin as she did her best to avoid grazing them with the back of her fingers.

The smart thing would have been to never have sex with Jake at all.

That horse has already left the barn, Erin. Put it behind you. Get your head in the game. Forget those urgent signals every time you’re in the room with him.

She knew all the pitfalls of a repeat performance in Jake’s bed, but couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting it. She hadn’t had an attraction to a man this intense since…since… Well, just since all that shit happened in her life.

She kept glancing at the intercom, waiting for Jake’s voice to come bellowing from the little speaker despite her threat to him. It stayed strangely silent. By the time she finished dressing, she was edgy, wondering if something had happened to him. What if he’d fallen and hurt himself? No, he’d have shouted and called for her. What if he was still asleep? Well, too bad. He had people coming. And she had to learn how to be his handmaiden in the bathroom.

She detoured to the kitchen to get a breakfast tray ready. She was still bringing him his coffee in the morning, but today started a fresh chapter in his life. Yesterday, while Jake was getting his shower and shave, she’d run up to the nearest market and picked up a few things. She’d grabbed some fresh bagels and a box of pastries from a great bakery even she had heard of. This morning they’d eat out on the covered patio, where they took the rest of their meals. And maybe today she could sweeten his disposition with a fresh pastry.

His door was closed, but when she knocked, there was no answer. She rapped again, a little louder.

“Come.”

A bad choice of words on his part because she was sure he was ready to. She knew
she
was every time she looked at him, a very difficult situation. She opened the door and looked in. Jake was lying in his usual place against the pillows, covers thrown off, body exposed to her eyes.

Hello, morning boner.

“Don’t hang out in the doorway.” He motioned her forward, unsmiling. “Did you bring my coffee?”

Okay, so Mr. Grumpy was still hanging around.

“Not today, smart guy. Today we’re getting you out of bed right away, getting your blood moving before you get your first lesson in taking a solo shower.”

He snorted. “That will be an interesting change.”

“Whatever. I’m getting your juice and coffee, but you won’t get it in bed. It’s a nice day. I’m taking it out onto the patio. And I have a treat for you.”

His eyes widened slightly and a corner of his mouth ticked up in a hint of a grin. Was Mr. Grumpy leaving? “A treat? Are you going to have breakfast with me in the nude?”

What he said didn’t bother her half as much as the fact that she sensed he was only pretending to joke. The slight buoyancy he’d gotten from the removal of the soft cast and the news he could start wrist therapy and showering by himself had dissipated. At first she’d chalked it all up to him just feeling sorry for himself, but as she got to know him better, she had a sense it went much deeper than that. She understood that football was a big part of his life, but what was going to happen if it turned out it could only be a small part from now on? What would he do?

In that moment, it became a goal of hers to show him that there was life after football. That there were other things, like this Good Shepard House and more opportunities she’d come across in his mail. She almost laughed at her thoughts, but at least it would give her something to focus on besides the void her life was currently in.

“Erin?”

Jake’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. She grinned.

“Uh, no, I’m not dining in the nude with you. But I did get fresh bagels, banana nut muffins, and cinnamon streusel coffee cake from Take the Cake.” She forced a smile. “Ivy texted me it’s one of your favorites.”

He eyed her for a long moment. “Is that supposed to sweeten me up?”

Her lips quirked up in a smile. “As if. But you might enjoy it. Come on. Out of that bed.”

“Wow.” His forehead creased in a scowl. “No more Miss Sweetheart, right?”

Erin had to chuckle. “She forgot to show up. Now come on. Get your ass to the bathroom like a good little boy, and I’ll get breakfast. I also have some more stuff to go over with you.”

Still scowling, he pushed himself upright and reached for his crutches. “I’m telling Ivy on you. She promised me someone nice.”

“Yeah? You’d have to get her to talk to you first. And I can be nice when I want to.” Now why the hell had she said that? “See you in a few.”

“Wait. What happens if I fall on the way to the bathroom or out to the patio?”

She sighed in exasperation. “You’ve been doing just fine for the past few days. But if that happens, I’ll call someone with a forklift to haul your ass back upright.”

Knowing that was her best exit line, she left the room and headed for the kitchen.

“You know, I’m actually beginning to enjoy breakfast out here.” Jake helped himself to a banana nut muffin, cut it precisely in half, and took a bite.

“That was the point,” Erin told him. She refilled both their mugs from the carafe of coffee. “Getting you out of that bed.”

“And do you have a plan for me getting you back into it?” The words were out before he even realized it, but he wouldn’t have taken them back. He was pleased to see a soft blush creep up Erin’s beautiful cheeks.

“I think that ship has sailed.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Things seem to be going along okay without it. Why rock the boat?”

Well, crap.

Jake kept hoping he could scale that big wall that was back in place around her, and he planned to keep trying. With his future still uncertain, it gave him something to focus on.

She nodded at her ever-present iPad, now sitting at her elbow. “We need to get at the e-mails and messages after breakfast. You’ll be happy to know I cleaned out most of what was in there.”

“See?” He grinned. “I knew you were perfect for the job.” This one and a few others.

What are you doing, Russell? What will you even have to offer her if you get the death blow when the cast comes off?
Talk about being selfish. But he just could not seem to help himself.

“Ivy finally called,” she told him.

“Damn nice of her,” he grumped.

“She wanted to check on your progress.” Erin bit off a piece of muffin, chewed, and swallowed.

“Did she at least apologize for getting you into this mess?” And me, he wanted to add.

Erin shook her head. “Not a bit. She did say she’d be by to see you when you stop wanting to rip her head off.”

He didn’t comment, so she looked at her iPad again. Today’s list, he was sure.

“After breakfast we have to do your toes.”

She said the words so primly he actually burst out laughing. “I’m sorry if that offends your sensibilities. Don’t you work with the appendages of your regular clients?”

“I work in a
spa
or a
resort.
” She emphasized the words. “Their toes don’t usually come into play.”

“No? Well, maybe they should.” He saw the muscles in her jaw tighten. He was really getting into pushing her buttons. “The therapist said they were getting swollen. You’d hate for me to have swollen toes, wouldn’t you?”

He loved the feel of her slender fingers on him as she worked each individual digit the way the therapist had shown her. It might not be on her list of favorite things to do, but she sucked it up and handled it. He got the distinct feeling that sticking this out to the end had become a point of pride with her.

“I could see you were developing a problem. I’ll take care of it.” Another sip of coffee. Another bite of muffin.

Alrighty!

He could hardly wait until the guy showed up later to show them how to wrap his cast. Would she have to cover his leg all the way to his balls? Would her fingers brush against them? Touch his dick? The thought of that intimacy made him painfully hard. It took every bit of discipline he possessed to push the images out of his brain. “Do you have time in your busy schedule to watch a movie this afternoon?” he asked.

“My schedule is busy with you,” she reminded him, “so yes. If that’s what you want to do.” She pinned him with a look. “In the great room, though.”

He burst out laughing. “Afraid to watch it with me in my bedroom, are you?”