Chapter Thirteen

Felicity sat beside Scott in Dr. Bedi’s waiting area on Monday morning, trying to answer Lauren’s barrage of incoming text messages. Hard to do, when Scott’s knee was bouncing a million miles a minute beside hers. But they needed answering because while Felicity sat here, Lauren was at home on the computer helping her apply for jobs.

After modestly divulging about how it’d gone with Scott Saturday night—and answering a few hundred follow up questions about it—she’d spent yesterday morning game-planning with her cousin how and when to get serious about looking for her next job. J.B. had promised he’d give her at least two additional weeks’ worth of work after Scott left, but Felicity had been down this road before. Job searches took time. So did interviews, rejections, and more applications. To hold off any longer would be foolish.

After backspacing for the dozenth time, she dropped the phone in her lap and conceded for now. “Breathe, Scott.”

“I am.” His knee’s pace didn’t falter. “What’s taking so long, anyway?”

“We’ve been here a grand total of”—she checked her phone—“eight minutes.”

“Yeah, so?”

She sighed. Clearly, the man didn’t spend much time in doctor’s offices. Heck, she’d gotten a cold last summer and spent almost an hour in the lobby at her family doctor’s, all so they could tell her it was a virus and she’d just have to let it run its course.

“So patience is a virtue. It also keeps your blood pressure down. You don’t want Evan keeping you on restrictions any longer than necessary, do you?”

His knee stopped. “No.”

“Then, take a deep breath in, and let a slow breath out.”

Scott shot her a look like she’d lost her mind. She probably had, seeing as she’d slept with a celebrity and since when did she live on the edge like that? Since now, apparently. And, hmm, wouldn’t they have the house to themselves for a few more hours? She offered him a sly grin.

“If you do, I’ll reward you when we get home.”

His lips quirked, and the dark look faded. Without further argument, he closed his eyes, drew a long breath in, then let it out on a long, soft hiss. The worry etched into his face began to fade.

“Better?” she asked.

He opened his eyes with a nod.

“Good.”

She patted his good knee and started to draw back, but he caught her hand. He didn’t say a word, just interlaced his fingers with hers. Felicity scanned the lobby, not wanting to start rumors in their small town, but all the adults nearby had their attention fixed on the electronics in their hands. So she stopped worrying and allowed herself to be content as Scott absentmindedly ran his thumb across the back of her wrist. This was the first time they’d touched since she’d slipped from his bed in the wee hours of yesterday morning, and unlike the last time, this one was purely innocent.

Comfort. He was looking for comfort.

Quite a turnaround from when they’d met in this very room a week ago, especially from how he’d nearly come unglued at learning J.B. had offered her a job as his assistant. It only reinforced the life lesson she’d learned long ago: you never knew what tomorrow would bring. Unfortunately, with Scott, she knew full well what one of these tomorrows would bring: a farewell. One that might come sooner as opposed to later, depending on what his friend Evan had to say.

But leaving had always been the plan, and she wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise. Instead, she’d do her best as his PA and enjoy whatever time they spent together in the afterhours as well. An innocent fling, both liberating and rejuvenating. Nothing to get herself emotionally shipwrecked over.

At least, that was her intent. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reinforce the thought.

“Scott Gillie?”

At the sound of his name, he released her to collect his nearby crutches. “Guess this is it.”

“Dr. Bedi won’t steer you wrong,” she said. “Just keep an open mind and be nice.”

“I know.” Scott rose with a frown. “And why does everyone keep telling me to be nice?”

Felicity laughed. “Because we know how you can be. Now go on, I have work to do.”

“Work to do,” he grumbled as he made his way toward the nurse. “I’ll show you work later.”

She ignored him, knowing it was anxiety talking. Still, as she pulled the classifieds from her purse and unfolded them, she couldn’t help but watch those long, lean legs of his. Legs she hoped to see more of later, tangled with hers, before their adult fairy tale came to an end.

Her phone beeped, and she pushed thoughts of sexy time with Scott aside to check it. Lauren again, with two more job opportunities. The first sounded wretched, the second moderately doable. None, of course, would be as fun as working with Scott.

She chuckled. Less than a week ago, she thought the man might bludgeon her with his crutches. A handful of days ago, he was running her ragged all over the farmhouse for the perfect glass of water. Now she sat in the room where it all began, seeing how other jobs would measure up to working with her soccer celebrity.

Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” began playing in her mind.

“Skip the first, apply for the second please,” she wrote to Lauren.

“Okay. You know, I could always expand my search to Columbus.”

Felicity stared at her phone. Her cousin had to be joking. She and Scott weren’t an item, they were a team. A very temporary team. He couldn’t possibly be thinking anything long-term when it came to her, and she knew better than to think that with him. Besides, there was no way she would rip Tyler out of his school to relocate to a big city. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Not to mention they were due to take possession of their rental house next weekend.

The rental house. In all the chaos of the last week, she’d nearly forgotten. There were utilities to call and movers to coordinate. Maybe it was time she got her head out of the clouds and back into real life before she dropped the ball on any of it…and it all started with getting a new job lined up.

“Thanks, but let’s keep it local,” she wrote back. “I’ve waited too long to be your neighbor as it is.”

…

Once the nurse ran a few X-rays, she brought Scott into the same waiting room he’d been in the week prior to collect his height, weight, and blood pressure. Only this time, instead of walking in confident he’d be released sooner, he had no idea what today’s verdict would be. Heck, after being all sorts of wrong last week, he was almost afraid to wager a prediction. But he needed to get back on the field, needed to get his face in front of the fans again, in front of his manager, before someone decided they didn’t need him back.

The nurse left, and dread clawed at him as the seconds ticked by. What if Evan wouldn’t release him yet? What would he do then? Sure, he was starting to enjoy himself more at Edna’s, all thanks to Felicity. The woman had a way of steering activities, deescalating tempers, and providing comic relief at all the right moments. And those were just a few of the things she excelled at with her clothes on.

But soon she’d be gone, and he’d be gone, and things would go back to normal. Had to go back to normal if he wanted any chance of saving his career. Scott needed these restrictions lifted, and soon.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath—hey, it’d worked in the lobby, why not try it again in here? Long inhale, even longer exhale. If he could just go on a run, Scott could clear his cluttered mind in no time. He pictured where he would go, a route he’d done a hundred times before: start down Dovetail Lane, cut over to Baker Street, and do the mile loop around and back. Nice and easy. Heck, he’d make the loop twice if he still felt good…

The doorknob clicked, and Scott opened his eyes to find Evan walking in with a set of gray and black films lying across his laptop. “Well, X-rays are looking good.”

“Yeah?” Anticipation grew in his chest. Scott could practically feel the wind on his face and asphalt under his feet. A few miles, and then he’d grab a ball and start working on some drills.

“Yep, you can lose the crutches now, just don’t overdo it.”

“Man, I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

“I’ll bet.” Evan pulled out a wheeled stool and started typing notes into his machine. “Keep your leg elevated in between walks, ice it if it swells. You’re probably going to have a lot of swelling, so like I said, don’t overdo it. I’m going to give you some exercises to work on—do three reps of each both in the morning and afternoon. Next week, if things are still looking good, we’ll see about adding in some longer walks, maybe even some short runs.”

Wait, what? “Next week?”

Evan sighed. “Scott, you’re coming off a significant knee injury. You’ve got to take it slow or you’ll keep the tear from healing on its own. If you do too much, it could even go the other way.”

“But the X-rays?”

“Shows your break is healing nicely. I can’t see muscle on there.”

“Then can we do an MRI or whatever? They’re gonna call me back any time, man. The playoffs are coming, and I need to be ready.” Before the new kid secures a spot for next season instead of me.

“No, you need to heal. If you don’t heal, you won’t last long on the field. Add in another bad tackle, and your pro days are over.”

Over…over…over…

The word echoed in his head like some bad sitcom. Without soccer, he’d have nothing. Be nothing. He’d lose his mind.

But another week of no training?

“Work with me, Evan. I need to get back in the game.”

“I am working with you. Most people, I wouldn’t recommend these exercises to for another week or two. You, I know can handle it. But let me be the doctor, okay? No running for one more week. Elevate the leg and ice as needed. If you’re feeling good by the weekend, maybe add in some slow—slow—dribbling. Oh, and I’m giving you the number for a new physical therapy place up the road. Doubt you’ll need it if you do the stretches I’m prescribing, but good to have if your range of motion isn’t where it needs to be by week’s end.” His friend jotted down a few notes on a sheet with cartoon patients modeling simple leg exercises, then handed it to Scott. “Are you going to the Soccer Festival on Friday?”

I guess so, since it appears I’ll still be around. “Yeah, Sawyer invited me out.”

“I’ll be sure to look for you, then. The missus and kids will be with me, I’m sure they’d love to see their Uncle Scott.”

“Would love to see them, too. You, not so much.”

Scott was sick of getting bad news. Part of him felt like he might never be released from his restrictions. Patience might be a virtue, but that didn’t mean he had much. And what he did have had been spent before arriving in Quail Hollow for the second opinion that kept biting him in the butt.

What the hell was he going to do for another week?

“Trust me, this is what’s best for your knee. Now quit your sulking and go get a sucker.” Evan rose and gave Scott a pat on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Oh, and Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing over at Edna’s this week? Keep it up. Your blood pressure looks much better today.”

He ducked to hide a grin. Felicity—that’s who helped him keep his blood pressure down. Somehow, he didn’t think Evan would write him a refill for her special treatments, though he was seriously contemplating scribbling in “fornication” on his list of recommended stretches.

Doctor’s orders, honest!

Clothed or not, they were going to have to do something to pass the time; his cabin fever was growing by the day. Even doing more public relations crap would be better than sitting around the farmhouse twiddling his thumbs. Three reps twice a day—he’d have that knocked out with another twenty-three hours left to burn. Maybe Edna could take him to cards with her, let him drive the golf cart.

No, strike that. No way was he driving that pink nightmare around town. And besides, going to cards might get her thinking he planned to stick around. Because he didn’t, not when there were still goals to achieve and dreams to turn into realities.

Scott rose with a nod. “Good to know.”