Page 30 of Work It Out
His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. His bright blue eyes almost seemed backlit in the dim kitchen. “I know you don’t. And that’s my fault.” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.
Oh, hell.
“I worry about you staying somewhere like your office, because it isn’t safe and it isn’t comfortable.” He took her hand in his, staring at the tangle of fingers. “But that isn’t why I asked you to stay with me. I want you there, Ray-Ray. I want you with me. I always have.” He toyed with her thumb. “Did you know you were there for my first day of therapy?”
A beat passed as she switched mental tracks with him. She remembered the day they’d met seven years ago. Both were patients at a respected rehab facility in Atlanta. Rayah had been in the middle of a last-ditch effort to save her shoulder from being totally useless. Blaine had been recovering from his umpteenth surgery. If she remembered correctly, that was the one where the doctors put in the metal rod in place of his femur, but it could’ve been the hip replacement. He’d had so many surgeries, they were hard to keep straight. But she remembered the first time she’d seen him.
She laughed at the memory of him cursing a blue streak of non-curse words at everyone—mostly “son of a biscuit” and “mother trucker.” “You scared the hell out of that poor PT. He thought you were having mini strokes.”
Blaine swallowed hard. “That wasn’t my first day. The day before was. I’d been there for almost an hour and not done a darn thing. My PT was frustrated with me, but it hurt so much, and I was so tired of hurting.”
Rayah searched her memory. She’d been distracted, but… “How did I not see you?” He was hard to miss.
The left side of his mouth twitched. “You were so focused you wouldn’t have noticed a bomb going off. You showed up early and stayed late, marching from one exercise to the next with this determination that never wavered, even when sweat poured off you and tears streamed down your face.”
That sounded like her in those days. She’d first messed up her shoulder the year before but hadn’t properly rehabbed it before getting back on the mats. Then she’d reinjured it. The doctors said she’d never compete again, but she hadn’t been ready to give up.
At least, that was the public narrative. The truth was harder, messier. She’d stomped around because the fury inside was too relentless when she was still. She’d come early and stayed late because that mocking voice was harder to hear when the pain screamed louder. And sometimes her shoulder was a good excuse for the tears that had hijacked her life.
But that was a truth she could protect him from.
Blaine squeezed her fingers. “Lord, I wanted to yell at you to give up already. Partly because watching anyone hurt like that sucks, but mostly because you made me look bad.” She chuckled with him until he caught her gaze in his own. Neither of them laughed then. “You were so small and so young and so damn fierce. And the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
He pulled the tangle of their hands against his chest. “I knew I’d never get the attention of a girl like you sitting on my busted backside.” Rayah sucked in a breath, but Blaine didn’t even pause. “So I did the work. Every time I thought about quitting, there you were, smilin’ at me like I’d hung the moon, even as you pushed me harder than any CO ever did. I guess I thought, if I did something like that for you, fought through the pain and the humiliation… If I could do that, you’d know there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. I’m starting to think it didn’t work the way I wanted.”
“Oh, Blaine.” She leaned forward, thunking her head against the top two muscles of his rock-hard eight-pack because, yes, that was as high as her forehead reached. Would he hate her if he knew the truth? That she hadn’t been strong at all. Helping him had been an escape. “You were so much older than me, so larger-than-life. I never thought you saw me that way. I didn’t realize…”
Except she’d started to wonder since he’d followed her to Arizona. She’d dismissed the notion as crazy for reasons that were utterly selfish. Oh, she’d told herself she was seeing things that weren’t there. After all, he was built like the baby of a pro wrestler and a supermodel. What on earth would he see in a plain shrimp of a woman who couldn’t kiss him without a ladder?
Truth be told, she’d had the worst crush on him when they met. But he’d treated her with such warm but platonic affection, somewhere along the line, she’d mostly accepted the fact that he’d only ever be the overprotective best friend she’d always wished had been there when she’d needed one most.
One huge hand stroked her hair. “I’m only three years older than you, Ray. You were jailbait then. And, God, I was such a wreck. Then you were going through hell. I didn’t want to risk putting you in a position to push me away. Then Clara…” He sighed at the mention of the ex-fiancé who’d hurt him so deeply. “Our timing’s always been off. But then I was finally in a solid place, and you asked me to come out here with you.”
“You’re my best friend.” He knew her better than anyone, even if he didn’t know everything.
He tipped her chin up and bent so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “And you’re mine. But I think we could be more. I think we’d be great at more.”
One second, she was on her feet, trying to look him in the eye and failing. The next, she was in his arms. He didn’t pull her against his body. He simply picked her up like a vase of flowers and carried her to the nearest counter. Before she could catch her breath, he closed in, wedging himself between her knees and gripping her hips with both hands.
“One kiss,” he breathed, his words ragged. “Give me one kiss, and I swear, if you don’t feel the way I do, I’ll back off. It’ll kill me, but I’ll back off.” An ornery smirk touched his lips. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
He was right; she couldn’t. It’d been a long time, though. But as she stared up into his clear blue eyes, she had to admit that dream had never completely died.
Even with her perched on the counter, Blaine towered over her. He cupped her face in his hands. Tilting her head a fraction, he whispered, “Just one kiss.”
“Yes.”
His lips brushed softly against hers, seeking without demanding. Love, there was so much love in the press of his mouth against hers. Such a beautiful gift, knowing beyond the merest doubt that she owned a little piece of his soul, just as he owned a piece of hers.
And yet…
And yet there was no passion, no uptick in her heart rate, no fire in her blood. How could she kiss a man like Blaine—with brains and brawn and a beautiful heart—and not be set aflame, but one flash of a certain actor’s dimples made her giddy inside?
But then, there was no desperation in his touch, either.
Frustrated, Rayah pulled free of his grasp and heaved air into her lungs.
She’d thought she’d scraped through her trauma without too much lasting damage. Clearly, she’d been wrong.
