Off the Record (10 page)

I’m going to play it safe and choose to listen to my gut right now.

After we finish breakfast, Ever insists on cleaning the kitchen and that’s fine by me. It’s the same deal I had with Nix when he lived with me. While she’s cleaning, I go over my workout schedule with her.

“I try to run five miles at least four to five times a week. I usually will go first thing in the morning when I wake up or early evening before it gets dark. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I work out at the gym, and I’m usually there two to three hours. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ll do something different like inline skating or mountain biking, just to get some activity but not necessarily for a hard workout.”

Ever turns to me from the sink where she is scrubbing the omelet pan. “What do you expect me to do while you’re working out, which apparently seems to be a good chunk of your day?”

“I expect you to be by my side every step of the way. You’re going to get a bird’s eye view of what it’s like to be a professional athlete. I figure you can drive my car behind me while I run, and you can count my repetitions at the gym for me.”

I expect her to balk at this. She’s going to be bored to tears watching me work out every day, and the small part of me that’s still a tiny bit angry with her stands up and claps over my deviousness.

Instead, she surprises me. “Do you mind if I run with you?”

“Not at all.”

“And can I use the gym facilities where you work out?”

“Sure. I’ll get you a membership. There’s a training facility in Tarrytown, New York the players can use but I prefer just going to a local gym here for convenience. I only go to Tarrytown once I’m ready to get back on the ice and that won’t be for a few weeks.”

She goes back to scrubbing the pan and I just watch her movements. I wasn’t lying when I said she looked hot in her glasses. There is something about a smart woman that does me in. I mean, I know Ever is smart. She went to Duke and Columbia. But with those glasses, let’s just say she could be my teacher anytime. I snicker to myself even thinking along those lines. Ever wouldn’t give me the time of day, knowing what she does about my bachelor lifestyle. Particularly the way I threw it in her face about fucking Brenda that night...hard. I have no clue what possessed me to say that, but I didn’t miss the way her nostrils flared when I said it. I have no clue whether that was disgust or desire, but it was certainly a reaction.

After she finishes cleaning, we both decide to get the run out of the way. She’s changed into a pair of shorts and a sports top that molds nicely to her curves. I can tell by the quality of her shoes that she’s not a novice runner. Her hair is braided down her back and I hate to admit that she looks beautiful even getting ready to get her sweat on.

We take off and run companionably through an older neighborhood near my condo. I have to shorten my strides up a bit so she can keep up but I don’t mind. It’s nice having company, even if it’s quiet. I point out a few things to her as we run but I don’t waste precious oxygen on talk.

Just as we are starting our fourth mile, Ever stumbles beside me and starts to limp.

“Ouch...ouch...ouch...”

“What’s wrong?” I keep running in place to keep my heart rate up.

“I have a charley horse.” She limps around in a circle, bending intermittently to massage her calf. “I’m sorry...go finish your run and I’ll meet you back at the condo.”

I think about finishing on my own but she looks to be in some serious pain. Instead, I walk over to her and sweep her up in my arms. She gives a half startled yelp but then moans as her calf muscle hardens again.

Laying her on the grass of someone’s front yard, I kneel down and take her leg in my hands. I’m embarrassed that my first thought isn’t about her injury but rather that her skin is as soft as it looks. She lays back and drapes her arm across her forehead. I can see the muscle knotted and start to gently massage it.

“Damn, that hurts,” she groans.

“I know. Just bear with me and we’ll get it worked out.”

“I can’t believe this happened. I’ve never cramped up like that before.”

I can feel the knot loosening but I continue to work at it, going a little harder the more pliable it becomes. There’s no way she’ll be able to finish the run though.

“How often to do you normally run?”

She leans up on her elbows to watch me working her leg. Those aqua eyes are watching me with interest. “I usually run five times a week but only about three miles. But I know I can do five. I used to run cross country in high school.”

“Maybe you’re a little dehydrated. Do you think you can stand and stretch it out a bit?”

She nods at me and I help her up. She gingerly puts some weight on it and seems to do okay. She takes a moment and stretches the calf, and I use the opportunity to admire her movements. She’s so much shorter than I am but she’s got a natural grace about her. I would actually peg her as some sort of dancer. Her actions are fluid and timeless, supporting that sort of ethereal beauty that I’ve come to recently appreciate.

“I’m good,” she says as she steps out onto the road. “I think we can head back. I can probably even run it.”

“No way. Not taking a chance of you cramping again. We’ll just walk it.”

We’re silent for several minutes as we walk back to my condo. I let her set the pace. My mind is actually going through the various exercises I’ll be doing today at the gym when her soft voice cuts in.

“I’m not a prude, you know.”

I look at her startled. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not a prude. I don’t want you to think I was judging your lifestyle because I have antiquated views about sex.”

Well, hell. That is exactly what I had thought after I read that article, but I have no clue what to say in response. So I ask instead, “Then why were you judging me so harshly?”

She shrugs her shoulders, as if her answer is silly. But then she stops walking and looks at me. Her eyes are serious. “Let’s just say I’ve had some betrayal issues in my past that tend to make me a little bit sensitive to things like loyalty and commitment. I must have seen your actions as some sort of betrayal.”

“I don’t understand why? I owed you nothing. You owed me nothing.”

Ever throws her hands up in frustration and resumes walking. “I know. It’s crazy. The only thing I can fathom is that maybe your invitation to dinner seemed like a serious effort on your part to get to know me. And your meaningless sex was, well...meaningless. It just rubbed me the wrong way...that you could want both things.”

Now things are starting to make sense to me. Reaching out, I grab hold of Ever’s wrist. She stops and looks at me with curiosity.

“Did someone cheat on you?” I ask.

Her face goes even paler than normal and her irises eyes actually darken a bit. I have my answer without even needing her to say it. But she provides it to me anyway.

“Yes. My ex-fiancé,” she says quietly.

I curse under my breath. Now I feel like such an asshole for making the comment yesterday about her driving her fiancé off.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I rub the inside of her wrist as I ask, trying to sooth her.

Ever glances down to my hand. It’s large around her tiny wrist and my skin is dark compared to her paleness. She pulls back slightly and I release her.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says as she resumes walking. “It’s over and done with. I never even think about it.”

Yeah, right.
“Never?”

“Nope. I’m pretty resilient, Caldwell. You trample on me, I know how to pick myself up, brush myself off, and get on with my life.”

I don’t say anything but I think to myself, B
ut at what cost?

A change in subject is definitely in order. It’s not for me to try to figure out her emotional man-trauma. It has nothing to do with me as long as she can keep those feelings out of her next article.

“So, how did you end up at Columbia from Duke?”

“I made a mistake and followed my heart.”

Definitely a touch of bitter laced inside her sweet accent. “Let me guess...the ex-fiancé?”

She nods. “Yup. Marc. We met at Duke. He graduated a year before me and got a job in New York. He asked me to transfer so I could be with him and I said yes.”

I can’t help but note the bitterness seemed to increase when she mentioned transferring schools. In fact, there is way more sharpness to her tone than when she was talking about her ex-fiancé. “You didn’t want to leave Duke.” It’s a statement I’m making, not a question.

A wistful smile slides into place and her cerulean eyes are dreamy. “To graduate from Duke is all I ever wanted growing up. My mom and dad both went there.”

“You’re close to your parents, huh?”

“My mom...yes. Very close. My dad, not so much.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the sweet and reverent tone when she talked about her mom. With her dad, I heard something close to loathing.

“I’m really close to my dad. You’ll get to meet him this weekend as we’re getting together for dinner at his house with Nix and Emily.”

“What about your mom?”

“She died of ovarian cancer when I was eight. I don’t have a lot of memories of her, but the ones I do have are good.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That must of have been tough.”

“It was, but my dad is amazing. He did a great job as both a mother and father to me and Nix. You’ll really like him.”

“I don’t want to interfere with family time. You should go alone. Besides, I’m not sure Emily wants to see me. You should hear some of the voice mails she left me after the article ran. I’ve been too chicken to call her.”

I chuckle. “Emily won’t be mad once you explain things to her. Besides, you’re writing another article about me and that includes getting to see me around my family.”

“Well, if you’re sure?” She sounds shy all of a sudden.

“I’m sure. Besides, I need you to hang out with some people that can vouch that I’m not a bad guy.” I’m joking with her, but I realize with absolute certainty that I need for this woman to see that I’m not a bad guy. And I’m not sure where that is coming from. I’ve never really cared what a woman thought before, other than to make sure she was pleased in bed.

I figure it must be the fact that I don’t want my fans to be disappointed in the article that she writes. That has to be it, because the alternative is not something I want to give credence to. Because it spooks me to no end that I may actually like Ever just a bit and her personal opinion of me is important.

Her next words thrill me. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Linc.”

My heart lifts up and somersaults in my chest, a reaction that disturbs me greatly.

Fuck! I don’t like what those words do to me.