Kitabı oku: «A Father For Her Child»

Chapter One

July

“Who stuck you with construction detail? You’ll be lucky if you’re done by opening day.”

Kneeling next to eight zillion pieces that theoretically made up a free-weight rack, Cadence Grigg ignored her sister Lauren’s abrupt announcement. She glared at the sheet of illustrated instructions next to her on the floor. Driving rock music, chosen by the receptionist who’d arrived a little while ago and was happily setting up the front desk, pumped from the built-in speakers and muffled Cadie’s curses.

Easy assembly. As if.

Lauren shifted on her feet and cleared her throat. With her blonde hair plaited into two sweaty French braids and body clad in workout clothes, she must have just finished up at the membership-only gym that adjoined the physical therapy facility of Sutter Creek’s new wellness center. “Bit of a mess in here.”

“Thanks, tips.”

“I’m just saying...”

You’re just saying you think I’m taking too much on.

Nerves danced in Cadie’s chest. Irritation, too. Maybe once this place was up and running, her family would finally stop thinking of her as the grieving, pregnant woman she’d been when her husband died eighteen months ago. They would see her as the competent single mom and professional she was. But getting upset wouldn’t help her cause. She inhaled, taking a hit of latex-and-rubber construction smells. New paint, new floors, new possibilities. For her family’s venture, and for Cadie.

“It’s progressing nicely,” she said.

“Uh...” Lauren’s gaze flitted from the stacks of boxes of exercise and therapy equipment to the half-assembled massage table crowded against a mirrored wall. “I’m sure you have a vision.”

“I meant the rack is progressing nicely,” Cadie ground out. She waved a hand at the chaos that she’d somehow turn into a functioning PT clinic before Evolve Wellness opened in ten days. “But I’ll deal with all this, too.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She jabbed a finger at the opaque glass wall that separated the exercise space from the reception area. “Treadmills are going there. Pulley systems and exercise benches adjacent. And all those boxes are going to fill the treatment rooms. You should see the stuff I’ve ordered, Laur. My old boss wouldn’t even know what it is, it’s so up-to-date.”

“Sounds great,” Lauren said warily.

“No, it sounds like you’re accusing me of overextending.” She took a centering breath and started screwing one of the rack’s support pieces onto what looked like part of a shelf.

Lauren knelt on the opposite side of the pile of metal pieces. “It is a lot...”

“And I’ve got it under control.” She’d finish setting everything up, even if she had to bring her eleven-month-old son Ben’s playpen and put him to bed here for the next ten days.

“It’s not that you can do it, it’s when. I don’t want you to burn out before Evolve even opens.”

“I’m not delicate, Lauren.” Her jaw tensed, making her molars creak. “Ben’s in daycare three days this week. And my staff is pitching in.”

“But—”

“Evolve was my idea.” She’d been working out of borrowed space since Sam’s death, and she was more than ready to be in charge. She’d proposed the facility—a place where physical therapists worked alongside practitioners of massage, reflexology, Reiki and other holistic methods—to her dad as a new branch of their family’s company. Wellness complemented AlpinePeaks’s high-end ski-resort business model, but nonetheless, her dad had put a lot of faith in her plan. “And I will make it succeed. Starting with finishing this stupid rack.”

She lined up another shelf piece on the support bar. The holes weren’t flush. Grrr.

“It’s backward,” Lauren murmured.

Cadie’s neck burned. “I knew that.”

So much for being competent. She could name the six-hundred-plus muscles in the human body, but stick her with furniture assembly and she became illiterate.

Flipping the piece around, she jammed a screw through the now-aligned holes. “I can do this myself.”

“Yeah, right. I’m never going to forget that IKEA shelf that you managed to turn into a wooden spider.” Lauren held out her hand. “Let me look at the instructions.”

“Worry about your own office. And stop being a mother hen.”

Wincing, her sister retracted her hand. “Crap. Sorry. I wasn’t going to do that anymore.”

“I know. You’re trying. Sometimes.” Cadie sighed. “Were you sneaking in a gym visit before the grand opening?”

“Yeah, couldn’t resist all the shiny new toys. And it was now or wait for tomorrow. There are only about two hours a day where I don’t feel like puking up my morning handful of soda crackers.”

“Can’t say I miss that part of pregnancy.”

“Can’t say I’ve figured out any part of pregnancy that’s worth it. Other than the endgame, I’m assuming.”

“It is. So are the looks I keep seeing Tavish give you. It’s like it’s Christmas morning every moment of his day.” Cadie would have given a lot to see that same look on Sam’s face when she was pregnant with Ben. All she’d gotten was fear and resentment.

She tried to keep a smile on her face but it wobbled.

I’m happy for my sister. I’m happy for my sister.

She’d repeat it until the envy receded. Because even if she’d wanted to risk falling in love again, she didn’t have the time. Ben kept her running for half her hours and the wellness center was turning that jog up to a sprint. Those two things would keep her perfectly fulfilled, damn it.

Lauren plopped down on the ground. “Zach showed up just as I was leaving. Said he was doing rehab.”

Cadie narrowed her eyes. Contemplating Zach Cardenas and his physical therapy—the PT he refused to let her be involved with—never failed to make her blood pressure rise. Sam’s best friend could definitely add Cadie’s main source of insanity to his excessively long list of accomplishments. Cadence’s, rather. For some reason, he always called her by her full name. Claimed to like it. And Lord, so did she. Her spine shivered every time the smoothly spoken syllables rolled off his tongue.

Argh! In a desperate attempt to derail her train of thought, she handed her sister the Allen key. “Here, you do the screws. I’ll hold the pieces together.”

Lauren peered at Cadie, suspicion written on her features. “I thought you didn’t want help.”

“Changed my mind.”

“Changed the subject, you mean.”

Cadie shrugged.

“Cadence Grigg.”

“Lauren Dawson,” she mimicked. “Hey, are you going to change your name when you get remarried?”

“Probably. And you did it again.”

“I asked you a question. Is that not allowed?”

“Not when you’re avoiding talking about something. You were the one who complained we needed to get back to acting more like friends. So why’d you get a look when I brought up Zach?”

Cadie sighed. “He’s just frustrating me. If I have to spend one more minute watching him compensate for his misaligned hips, I’m going to throw a medicine ball at his head.” She’d spent the last three months doing her best not to look at her husband’s best friend’s beautiful body as he rehabilitated his broken femur and arm with a colleague at her previous workplace, but she’d had enough.

“He did look out of whack.”

“He has this bee in his bonnet over finishing Sam’s film this fall. They’ve changed the focus from an extreme skiing feature to a documentary about the avalanche. The producer’s thrown in extra money to get Zach to the site where the slide occurred, given he missed the memorial trip in the spring, so he’s trying to speed things along. And he’s causing more problems than he’s fixing. I’ve been nagging him to let me help for months.”

Cadie held a crosspiece against the slanted top shelf, and Lauren started screwing a nut onto one of the bolts, a look of confusion on her face. “Zach would do anything for you, though.”

“Because of Sam, yeah.” Sure, she’d hit the six-month mark of parenthood and woken from her sleep-deprived haze to find Zach’s assets—especially his ass—irresistible. She’d slapped a “friends-only” label on the guy the minute she’d gotten together with Sam. But she was single now, and the edges on that label were peeling like the paint on her brother’s ancient truck. Thankfully, Zach hadn’t ever hinted at wanting to tear off the designation for good.

Lauren stilled her hand mid key-turn. “Just Sam?”

“Yes,” Cadie emphasized.

Lips pressed into a wholly unconvinced line, her sister went back to her task. “Well, no matter the reason, if you can make his therapy about doing you a favor, I bet he’d go for it.”

Interesting thought. And not a stretch, either. “It is partly about me. I want to pay him back for all he’s done for Ben and me since Sam died.” The guy had quit his job coaching the US Junior ski team to relocate to Sutter Creek when Cadie had moved home, for God’s sake. He’d gone to every one of her maternity appointments. Held her hand through most of the delivery and kept all her loose ends tied while she was struggling with a colicky infant. Every time Cadie had needed a hand, Zach had stuck his out to help, up until the point he’d broken his arm and leg during spring cleanup. The number of times he’d apologized for not being able to pitch in over the past few months...

Yeah. That was definitely why frustration ate at her every time she was around him.

It didn’t have anything to do with the way laughter made his eyes dance or how the bronze skin over his ripped muscles hadn’t forgotten he’d once been a competitive athlete. So the guy was nice to look at.

More than nice.

Downright mouthwatering.

But that was all objective. She couldn’t be interested in Sam’s best friend. Nor could she risk the bond Zach had with Ben over a momentary physical attraction.

“I doubt he’d agree that you owe him,” Lauren said. “The guy has survivor’s guilt written all over him.”

Letting go of the now secure shelf brace, she gnawed on one of her thumbnails. “I know. He insists he’s indebted to me.”

“Come at it from a professional angle, then. You need him for his reputation.”

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” Nodding, she held a support rail for Lauren. “If Zach thinks I need to be his therapist to build credentials for the new clinic, he might play along.” Any publicity would be fantastic and with his gold-medal reputation—not to mention his overwhelming popularity as ski patrol director—he’d make the perfect poster boy for what her center could offer. Especially if she helped him heal faster using a combination of her PT and the other clinic services. And she could rest easier knowing she’d made a small dent in the pile of favors she needed to repay.

“How about I keep going on the rack and you go see if you can catch him before he leaves the gym?” Lauren offered.

Cadie scrunched her face—she really didn’t want her sister doing work for her, especially not when Lauren had her own office to set up ahead of her official switch from doctor at the local clinic to health consultant at Evolve. But the thought of Zach spending one more minute overdoing it and causing himself further injury chafed. “You go worry about your stuff. I’ll talk to Zach and then come back and finish before I need to get Ben.”

Lauren shook her head but she spread her palms in surrender and stood. “I’m not trying to take over, Cadie.”

“I know. But I’ve been working on this for a year and you’ve stepped in at the last minute.”

“You said you were okay—”

“I am.” Cadie rose and put a hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m pumped to get to work with you and glad you’ve found something that makes you happy. But I want to be able to put my stamp on things.”

A puzzled look crossed her sister’s face. “But given this is an AlpinePeaks project, we’re all involved in it.”

Yeah, they were, and their father and brother were, too. Technically more than Cadie, because she’d liquidated a good chunk of her shares in their family’s company to support Sam’s dream of becoming a world-renowned, extreme-ski film star. Had he known that attempting to achieve that fame would mean dying, would he have insisted on pursuing it so hard?

A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it. Best not to answer that question. “I know you’re just trying to help, Laur. But let me take the lead. Please.”

A minute later she was heading through the atrium, passing the glassed entrances of the spa and the hallway to where various energy-healing practices would take place. She hung a left past a ceiling-to-floor waterfall and entered the fitness facility. Her footsteps were the only sound in the large space—odd to have a gym without some sort of loud music. Had Zach already left?

But a quick scan revealed him sprawled on one of the exercise mats across the room, chest rising and falling rapidly. His two-day stubble failed to hide the stark defeat marking the line of his jaw. Concern shot through her. Taking stock of potential physical reasons for his unrest, she skirted around exercise equipment as she headed in his direction. Sweat dripped from his forehead into the chestnut-brown hair at his temples. A stability ball and a set of small hand weights lay within arm’s reach. His crutches leaned against the pristine mirror. He’d lost some muscle mass since his accident. But not so much that he didn’t have women virtually lining up outside the door to his apartment, offering to take care of him.

As if casseroles and doe-eyed sympathy would magically heal him.

No, he needed rehab. Specifically, her skill set. Which meant no more salivating over the way his thin T-shirt was currently plastered to his perfect abs. Not if she wanted him as a client.

Business, Cadie. To get what she needed—and to facilitate what Zach needed—it was time to work some emotional sleight of hand.

* * *

Breathing hard from exertion, Zach flopped his head to the side, taking in the wonder that was Cadie Dawson in yoga clothing. Tight leggings hugged those perfect legs. Her curly brown hair was straightened today, captured in a ponytail. The curve of her waist, the strength in her arms... His hands bitched loud and long over not being able to slide under her shirt, to test the softness of her pale skin.

As was becoming more frequent, something mysterious flashed in her blue eyes. He’d assumed that, after all the time they’d spent together over the past seven years, he knew all her expressions. “Cadence. Hey.”

“This would be going a heck of a lot faster if you’d let me stick needles in you.”

“We talked about that. Not happening.”

She crossed her arms. “You must be tired. Your Canadian is showing.”

He wasn’t going to dignify her reference to his accent. For the love of God, British Columbians did not say “aboot.” That was an east coast thing. But she liked to pretend he did to get a rise out of him.

“Back to nag me?” he asked.

“I just want you to get better.”

“I thought you were pissed about my Whistler trip. About the film.”

“I am. I don’t think it’s worth risking your rehab in order to get the film done. It can wait. Sam’s not going anywhere.” She let out a dry laugh, the kind that covered her increasingly hoarse tone. Well, sort of covered it. The sound came out strident.

Zach pushed himself up to sitting, leaning more heavily on his left arm. His broken right arm had complicated his recovery, delaying his ability to get up on crutches. “I have to get it done. It can’t wait.”

“I’m aware,” she murmured.

You think you are. He’d confided in her enough for her to know how much Sam’s death weighed on him. But he hadn’t told her everything. Didn’t want to hurt her worse that she already was.

“Your time crunch is the reason I keep nagging you about trying new techniques,” she continued. “Dry needling, for one. And we could combine PT with some holistic methods from other center practitioners. You’re out of alignment from overcompensating, and you need to loosen those muscles. And the program you’re following isn’t getting that done. Not in time for you to be tromping across a glacier by October.”

He went through the painstaking motions of getting himself up off the ground. He winced as he limped the few feet to get his crutches. Why did she have to be here, seeing him hobble around? “I’m comfortable working with my therapist.”

Her throat bobbed. “PT’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

“No kidding.” At this rate he didn’t think he’d be physically comfortable again for the rest of his life. His doctor had assured him he should make a full recovery, but it sure wasn’t happening anytime soon. A cramp pulsed in his back and he straightened, had to breathe deeply to release the pain. He paused for a few seconds to take in another lungful of air before tucking his crutches under his arms.

“So why won’t you let me help you, then?” she pressed.

Ah, one more thing he and Cadie wouldn’t ever discuss. He’d literally held her upright for a good chunk of the first few months after Sam’s death. He’d watched her belly grow. Had been the first one to feel Ben’s kick on the outside. Had held the little guy for hours once he was born, letting Cadie get caught up on sleep after a rough labor, pretending all the while that the protective, paternal feelings clamoring in his chest were solely connected to fulfilling his promises.

Hell, Sam had begged him to watch over Cadie.