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 c**k 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.
“Thanks.” And there he was, his body so close she felt some kind of vibration coming off him. She inhaled and breathed him in—the scent of the sea and musky, sweaty male, which unfortunately was not a turnoff to her. Definite sexual chemistry. She was afraid to even look up at him, and she was no coward.
But Garrett Scott represented her job, and if she did her job well, it would be a shot in the arm to her future with the Rivers. As one of the therapists in the lower echelon, she really needed to do well on this. Having the hots for her client was a terrible way to start.
She pushed off the counter.
“I was thinking omelets for breakfast. I know you’re a vegetarian, but do you eat eggs?”
She stopped, turned, forcing herself to face him. “I do. Do you want me to fix your breakfast?”
He laughed. “No. I was going to fix breakfast. Unless you have some objection to that.”
“Uh, no. No objection.”
“Good.” He laid his empty glass in the sink and grabbed a pan from under the counter. “I’m going to make bacon. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
She couldn’t help the smile that quirked her lips. “I won’t run screaming as long as you don’t make me eat it.”
“Fine. You go work or something. I’ll cook.”
“How do you know what I want?”
“Eggs. I’m going to mix some vegetables in with it. Then I’ll cut up some fruit, too. Would you like some yogurt?”
She sighed. He was just too good at this. She was going to have to keep her distance when she wasn’t working with him. “That all sounds great, but I can help.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got this.”
She went into the bedroom and grabbed her notebook, brought it out to the table, and tried to finish up her treatment plan, but it was hard to work when Garrett was cooking. Hot man in the kitchen? There was nothing sexier. He cracked eggs, sliced fruit, and she was certain he sizzled hotter than the bacon, which actually smelled delicious. Too bad she gave up meat five years ago.
She finally couldn’t take doing nothing, so she got up, poured juice, and set the table. By then breakfast was ready, and Garrett filled their plates.
They sat at the table and ate. The omelets were delicious.
“You’re very good at this cooking thing.”
He waved a piece of bacon at her. “Amazing what a guy can do when he has to fend for himself.”
“And you had to fend for yourself a lot?”
“Totally. You should feel sorry for me.”
“This is where you’re going to tell me you were homeless, you had to forage in the streets for food, you survived by using your street smarts, and you were some kind of baseball prodigy. That’s how you got your scholarship, right?”
“You must have read the Time Magazine article about me. Dammit, and I wanted to impress you with my backstory. Now you’ve ruined it.”
“Ha ha. Seriously, tell me about your family. I’m sure you were raised by loving parents and you’re as boring as me.”
He laughed and shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth, followed by a couple of gulps of orange juice. “Yeah, just like your story. Very uneventful.”
“I’m so disappointed.”