Authors: Morgan Kearns
Christian cleared his throat. “This is a private party.”
“
So, I guess you should take a hike.”
Frankie stepped between them. “Maybe I should make some introductions. Christian, this is Matthias Xavier. He’s the
Rockets
player I’ve been helping.”
Christian grunted.
“
X, this is Christian.”
Xavier grunted.
Seriously, heaven help her. She needed someone to save her from all the testosterone.
“
So, um, I’m going to get a drink. You two can do whatever it is guys do when they’re being dicks.”
Both men ripped their arrogance driven glances away from each other and stared at her, mouths open. One heart beat. Two. And then they both broke out in laughter.
Christian hooked one arm around her neck, pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Man, I love you, Frank.” He shoved a twenty into her hand. “Will you grab me a beer while you’re at the bar? You know the kind I drink.”
Nice. She’d just been dismissed and asked to play waitress all at the same time.
Jerk!
She’d walk away and let him think he’d gotten away with it. Then later, when they were alone, she would kick his ass. Up one side and down the other.
***
Rage and fury boiled in his gut, turning his insides to molten lava. Xavier didn’t know anything about the guy in front of him, except his name was Christian and he loved Frankie.
The first didn’t concern X. The latter made him want to rip the guy limb from limb.
And how ridiculous was that?
He had a definite disadvantage. His damn shoulder was still in the brace, held tightly to his body. But then, he could kick this chump’s ass with one hand tied behind his back. Literally.
Christian smiled, a tight grimace filled with menace and warning. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”
Xavier took a step forward, using his size to intimidate. “I won’t.”
“
You already have.” Christian’s blue eyes narrowed.
X accepted the challenge and closed the gap. With only a scant few inches between them, Xavier noted how big the guy was. X had a couple inches and a few pounds on him, but if it got physical … Well, it couldn’t get physical until he had both hands to pound the arrogant smirk off his face.
“
Did you hear what I said?” Christian chest bumped Xavier.
X lifted his chin and glared down his nose at Mr. Protective. “I think you should stay outta her business.”
“
She
is
my business.” Christian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re hurting her. Every time you’re a dick to her, you hurt her. She puts on a brave front, but you’re pickin’ away at her confidence. You probably can’t see it because the ‘roids have melted your brains as well as shrinkin’ your balls. But it’s killin’ her and it’s pissin’ me off. If you don’t knock off your shit, I’m going to have to kick your ass. For real.”
He’d hurt Frankie?
He’d hurt Frankie.
Well, shit
.
He glanced over Christian’s shoulder and admired her slim figure. He’d never seen her in regular clothes. Damn, she was a fine woman. His body tightened, then his heart softened when she turned around, coming up to them with a big smile on her face and three drinks in her hands.
“
You bought.” She handed a Bud Light to Christian, passed a bottle of water to Xavier. She shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d taken any pain meds. I figured this was safe.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out some change. Xavier thought his head might explode as she reached over and slipped her hand into Christian’s pocket.
The water bottle crunched in his hand. The lid popped off, sending water spewing out to cover some poor schmuck at another table. Frankie gasped. He dropped the bottle and glared at Christian’s pocket. Her smile faltered. Then like a light bulb flipped on, she looked down at her arm and tugged her hand free.
Xavier tried not to frown, pretty sure he ended up scowling. “I’d better take off. It was great to see you, Frankie.”
Christian stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Not wanting to look like the dick he’d been accused of being, he took Christian’s hand. The guy’s grip tightened, his knuckles turning white. He smiled.
“
Remember what I said, Mr. Xavier.”
Xavier jerked his hand free, smiled at Frankie and strode to the bar. If he had a prayer of making it through the night watching Frankie with another man, he needed something stronger than water in his system.
And maybe, just maybe, if he had some alcohol in his bloodstream, his reactions to Frankie, to Christian, might make some sense.
12
“
Xavier!” Frankie stuck her head in the door and hollered his name. Again. “I’m here. You ready to work out?” She walked into the kitchen and put the mail on the counter. “Are you hiding?”
The letter on top caught her attention. The return address read: Central High School Reunion Committee. She picked up the letter and turned it in her hands.
“
X,” she called again. “The mailman just left your mail. I grabbed it for you.”
Where the hell was he?
She dropped the letter on the counter and jogged up the stairs. The tell-tale sound of water and off-key singing told her exactly where he was. Without letting her thoughts get carried away, she turned on her heel and hurried back downstairs. He didn’t know it yet, but she’d arranged to take him to the PT suite at the stadium. It’d been nearly two months since his surgery, and she intended to up the rehab. It was time to get his shoulder moving again.
She heard the
pff, pff
of his footsteps coming down the stairs and braced herself. If his mood sucked, she might have to deck him. She couldn’t take it another second. She was a damn good doctor and an even better friend. It seemed sometimes Xavier didn’t want either.
“
Doc.” He picked up his mail, thumbing through each letter. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“
I got your mail.”
With a quick glance down, he nodded. “Thanks for that.” He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and tossed the stack. “Nothing important.”
“
There was a … one particular caught my … did you look through all of them?”
His brows pinched. He fished them back out, going through them one by one. “Central High School Reunion Committee.” He pitched it.
“
Hey.” She raced over to rescue the letter. “That’s probably an invitation to a reunion.”
“
So.” He lifted his heavy shoulders.
She plucked the letter from the trash and took the liberty of opening it. She read over the words, confirmed her first thought. “Twenty years. I didn’t realize how old you were.”
His head shot up, his hazels sparking in defense. “I’m not old.”
She smiled and held up the letter. “It’s for your twenty year reunion.” She read further. “It’s in a month. In Boston.”
“
I know.” He headed out of the room and she followed him, letter in hand.
“
This says they’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months.”
“
I know.” He slumped down in his chair.
“
Well, aren’t you going to go?” The letter crinkled between her hand and her hip.
“
Nope.” He flipped on the television.
She stomped over to the television and turned it off. Hands on hips again, she rounded on him, making sure to stay in front of the TV.
“
Hey! I was watching that.”
“
Hey!” She bent slightly at the waist, leaning toward him. “I was talking to you.”
He wasn’t wearing his brace, and she couldn’t help but notice the muscles of his forearms flexing as he folded his arms. He closed his eyes, frowned, pursed his lips, blew out a breath, then opened his eyes again.
“
Okay, Doc, talk.”
She waved the letter. “You really should go to the reunion, X.”
“
Huh uh.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“
But why?”
He huffed. His hands rounded, his knuckles turned white. She expected him to explode on her. He didn’t. But by the look on his face, he sure as hell wanted to. His jaw jumped. Annoyance raged in his eyes. “I have no desire to see those pricks.”
***
Xavier tamped down his irritation. He didn’t want to talk about the assholes from high school. They’d made his life a living hell all those years ago, and he’d rather spend the rest of his life in the damned brace than spend one second in their company.
The cute little smirk deepened her dimple for a flash. “Come on, you’re Matthias Xavier. Major League Baseball Star.”
He laughed without humor. “I’m no star, Doc.”
She fluttered her eyelashes, clasping her hands together in a sappy
my hero
pose. “I think you are.”
His bark of laughter surprised them both. She joined him, her higher feminine laughs the perfect harmony to his deeper ones.
She approached him, handing him the letter. “You should go. It’ll be fun.”
“
Why don’t
you
go?” He dropped the letter to the floor.
She placed her hands on each side of his chair and leaned forward. Her scrubs fell open just a bit, giving him a nice view of her chest … covered by a plain, white, leave-everything-to-the-imagination tank top. She leaned in until her nose nearly touched his. “Will you be my date?”
He snapped the chair closed and stood up to tower over her. “And if I say no?”
“
Then I’ll go and say I’m you.”
Slowly, deliberately, he looked her over. From the shiny blond of her hair, the sexless appeal of her blue scrubs, down to her tennis shoes. He sought her eyes again. “You don’t look anything like me.”
She lifted one shoulder. “So you had a sex change.”
He laughed. Humor lightened him, made him feel light as a feather. Before he realized what he was doing, he grabbed hold of her, hugging her to his body and spinning her around. She gasped.
He was acting like a child.
That sobered him. He set her back on her feet, and held her out at arm’s length. “I’m sorry.”
She continued to laugh. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She poked him in the abdomen. “Unless you’re going to make me go to your reunion alone.”
He grinned. “Fine. I’ll go with you to the reunion …
if
you let me make all the reservations.”
An enormous grin broke out on her beautiful face, her blue eyes twinkling. She jammed her hand out between them. “It’s a deal.”
He couldn’t help himself. As his hand slipped around hers, he tugged. The motion caught her off balance and she toppled into his arms. He held her tight, resting his chin on her head. He could get used to having her close, especially when her arms wrapped around his waist and she laid a cheek against his chest.
Of all the women he’d had in his life—Yeah, he had too damned many, and not one of them meant anything more than a quick lay—she was the only one he’d ever allow anywhere near that reunion. Frankie had become very special to him. Too special. And yet, he couldn’t talk himself into pushing her away. He smoothed her hair back then pressed his lips to her temple.
“
Thanks, Frankie.” He tightened his hold on her, feeling all her softness melt against him.
She sighed, gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away. Her gaze met his and she smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”
He hoped she still felt that way after meeting his
friends
. He’d had no contact with them since graduation, which was just fine with him. Well, with the exception of Bradley emailing him for tickets to the World Series the year they took it all. He hadn’t returned the email. And didn’t care if he’d offended the former quarterback.
He should have been mortified by the prospect of submitting Frankie to his past. Should have. Yet knowing she would be there to support him as he faced it head on gave him the courage to do so.
He plowed his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Maybe he’d had a brain transplant during his shoulder surgery.
Frankie cleared her throat and twisted the hem of her scrubs between her fingers. “I was thinking we’d go down to the stadium and let you hang out in the whirlpool. Whatcha think?”
He raised a brow. “You gonna join me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“
You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get your stuff together and we’ll head out in ten minutes.”
As he jogged up the stairs, she yelled, “Don’t forget your suit!”
He chuckled. He’d take his suit alright, but only because he didn’t need the entire team checking out his junk in the whirlpool.
***
All it took was a single phone call to his travel agent to make the plans for their trip. They would stay at the hotel where the event would take place. He’d landed a suite with two rooms. The plane tickets and itineraries had showed up in the mailbox today. He couldn’t wait for Frankie to arrive so he could give her all the paperwork.