Physical Touch (4 page)

When it came to therapy, it was easy for many patients to quit too early on, as the pain and fatigue of the work could become overwhelming. Her job was to be a cheerleader, a mechanic, as well as a psychologist to enable their continued progress.  And it didn’t surprise Rylie that Mitch might try to impress her with his ability to work through the pain. 

What did come as an unexpected surprise were the jolts of electricity that erupted through her body whenever she made contact with his. Being physical with others, whether it was men or women, young or old, came with the physical therapist territory. It was what she did for a living and she was supposed to be immune to it. And yet she had never before experienced such an instant and intense heat from another human being. This worried her. This could be a problem.

And that problem was a solidly built, very handsome man who was now lying supine on her exam table, an ice pack fitted around his left knee. Rylie had excused herself to her office under the guise of updating her progress notes while he iced and recovered from the exercises. 

In truth, it was she who needed time to recover. Her chest felt tight, as if someone had punched her with a twenty-pound medicine ball, limiting her ability to take a breath.  Was that her heart racing so fast? The moment she had made body-to-body contact with Mitch maneuvering him into the cold tub, it had sent her heartbeat skyrocketing.

He smelled delicious, of soap, spice and musk. An all-male scent emanated from his entire being. She could feel the strong, sinewy texture of his back and the thick muscular legs as she positioned him on the tub bench. And his chest, the soft tufts of golden-brown hair peaked through the top of his T-shirt, flirting with her nose as her face was pressed against his chiseled torso.

She was barely able to concentrate as he leaned against her, pressing his weight and his lower extremities into her. She
could feel his length pressed into her belly and wondered what he would feel like to be buried inside her. 

She shook her head clear as the sounds of the timer jarred her back into reality.  She couldn’t hide out in her office forever. Grabbing a few pamphlets and instruction sheets, Rylie went back out into the clinic gym to finish up her session with Mitch.

“I have a new nickname for you,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, as she sidled up to the exam table. “You want to know what it is?”

“I don’t know. Do I? How appropriate is it?”

He laughed. “Oh, I think it’s quite appropriate under the circumstances,” he said, his voice husky and serious. “From now on I’m calling you Ice Queen…IQ for short. Because even if you don’t openly admit it, I know you’re trying to freeze my balls off on purpose.” He shook his head, handing her the icepack that had been wrapped around his now frozen knee.

“You really have a low opinion of me.
Honestly, if I really meant to freeze your balls off, the icepack would have been placed a bit further north,” she said, stifling a laugh. “Now, let’s talk about the exercises you need to do at home before your next visit.”

“How do you know Mark?”

Her head popped up from the table, her eyes wide in surprise. “What…excuse me? What do you mean?”

“The party last night, Mark Olsen’s going-away party. You two obviously work together and he talked about you, so I’m naturally curious about the type of relationship you have with him.”

Rylie stood there bewildered as to how he got onto this topic.  What business was it of his how she knew Mark?  
The gall of this guy
.

“What exactly are you implying?”

“I was curious if you’re sleeping with him or anyone else for that matter?” Mitch leaned back on the table, his arms placed casually up behind his head, his bum leg draped over his other, looking sexy and pleased with himself.

“What business is it of yours?” she huffed. Rylie could feel her face turn bright red and her hands trembled. “
Mr. Camden
. I am your physical therapist. I am here to help you get back up on both feet - literally. I am not here to cure your curiosity on my personal life.”

“So you’ve slept with him. Say no more.”

“Good grief, I have not slept with Mark!” she said, louder and with more intensity than she meant to. She took a quick look around the room to see if anyone had overheard her outburst. Luckily no one seemed to notice. “Not in the past nor ever in the future, for that matter. We went out once or twice a long time ago, but decided we’re better off friends.” She couldn’t believe she just told him that. This man was trying her patience.

Mitch chuckled. “I know. He told me that when I asked him about you last night.  I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Wha? - You schmuck! You goaded me into telling you and you already knew the answer? You have some nerve,” she fumed, trying to contain her frustration and regain her composure. What was this guy’s deal?  He was exasperating. She needed to get the ball back into her court. 

“Well, how do
you
know Mark?  Have
you
slept with him?”

His laughter was a loud boom, a commotion that now had heads turning to see what was going on. Swinging his legs around to the side of the table, he grabbed hold of the crutches that were leaning against the wall. Then he reached out and tweaked her nose. She pulled her head back at his gesture.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t slept with him either. But don’t hold that against me, I’m sure he’s a really nice lay. Mark’s family and mine go way back. I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“I see.” She paused, considering how to ask the next question. “So, you asked Mark about me? Why?”

“After our encounter at the bar and your flippant departure, I wanted to know who you were. I figured you were there for Mark’s party, so he knew you and he’d give me the details. I like to know in advance about the women I slee - uh, work with.” 

Rylie was all at once confused, flustered, angry and yet, intrigued, as to why Mitch would want to find out more about her. She thought back to the previous night and their limited exchange and conversation. She didn’t think she threw off any vibes indicating her interest. Her flirting wasn’t over-the-top and she certainly didn’t come on to him like most other women likely did. Although he was forward, he didn’t seem to show any further interest in her after she left him sitting at the bar. If he had, why didn’t he come talk to her again? Before she could consider that possibility, she knew the answer to that. She had shut him down with little room for reopening that door. 

“Well, you apparently got the details, so let’s move on to what’s next for you.  Why don’t you have Claire schedule your next appointment. You’ll need to continue to do your home exercises daily and come in three times per week.”

“Yes, about that. I’ve
arranged for in-home PT from here on out.  I have an extremely busy work schedule and that will just make it a whole lot more convenient for me. Mark said this clinic offers those services.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, handing him the folder of instructions and leading him to the reception desk. “I’ll just get the name of your in-home therapist and send over my progress notes and
eval forms, along with the recommendations for needed equipment.”

Mitch stood at the front desk looking at her as if she were an alien, his brows furrowed. Balancing himself on the crutches, he took out his wallet and handed Rylie a business card. She accepted it suspiciously, uncertain as to its purpose.

“That has my home address, along with the security code to my entry gate.  Apparently you seem to be missing a relevant piece of my therapy requirements.” Smiling that devilish grin, he placed the wallet back in his pocket. “Ms. Hemmons…I’ve already arranged for
you
to be my in-home therapist.”

Rylie blanched. 

Mitch pushed the automatic door opener with his crutch. Turning back to see her still standing there, unmoved, he winked. 

“See you on Friday, IQ.”

“What in the hell did you get me into?” Rylie practically yelled when she and Sasha were finally in the back office for their lunch break. 

Rylie had been so amped up and agitated over the previous several hours, she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She’d confronted Sasha with what she felt was her erroneous decision of offering up Rylie to make house calls for her new patient. She wasn’t certain if she was upset with Sasha for not telling her in advance about this twist or if she was pissed that she heard it directly from Mitch. Or just the sheer fact that she felt like an idiot for not knowing the plans. 

“I can’t believe you failed to mention this little tidbit of detail to me when you so casually gave me Mitch Camden as a patient this morning. How could you do that to me?”

“Rylie, calm down. Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is. I just forgot to mention it this morning. I’m sorry you feel slighted, but why is it such a crisis situation for you? You’ve done in-home therapy for other patients in the past. How is this any different?”

Rylie had moved from the doorway into the room and plopped down on the small beat-up leather couch. Her response to this situation did seem a bit out of proportion, considering it wasn’t her first in-home client she had assisted. She had others over the last few years and it never bothered her before. But that was before him. Her concerns were obviously geared toward how this particular client made her feel. And she didn’t like it. She didn’t like feeling that way at all.

Trying to explain her emotional predicament to Sasha would be futile and could possibly jeopardize her professional
credibility. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. She felt stupid and immature. She had worked too hard to lose her shit over a physical attraction to a man who was just a player, anyhow. 

“I’m sorry, Sash. I didn’t mean to overreact.”

“Hmm…that’s exactly what you’re doing. It just seems over the top for you.” Sasha sat down next to her friend, handing her half of her tuna sandwich. “What exactly is the problem?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it, but the man gets under my skin. He annoys the hell out of me. He says things that are…” Rylie paused, trying to find the right word to describe the agitation he created in her.

“Are what?” Sasha asked curiously, folding her legs underneath her bottom and taking a bite into her sandwich. 

“Flirtatious, for one. It’s like he’s just trying to get a rise out of me. And you know I can’t hold my tongue to save my life.” Taking a napkin Sasha had just handed her, she wiped off the crumbs that had spilled down her shirt. “He just…drives me crazy. Everything from him is innuendo.”

Sasha got up, taking the trash over to the wastebasket at her desk and threw it away. “Oh, I see. He’s getting a reaction from you because you’re trying too hard to resist his charm.”

Rylie snorted at her friend’s wholly inaccurate analysis. As if she thought Mitch had any charm, whatsoever. “Whatever. The guy’s a total player and I’m not falling for anything he’s dishing out. I just don’t know if I want to continue to put up with his antics. What if you move him to Carmen?”

Carmen Flores was another therapist, but part-time and only had a handful of clients she saw weekly due to her family commitments. Rylie knew immediately after making the suggestion that it wasn’t a solution. Carmen would frequently trade patients with Rylie based on their scheduling needs and demands, but just the thought of Carmen touching Mitch brought a foreign stab of jealousy to the surface. 

Although part of her rebelled against the idea of continuing to work with Mitch, the other half wanted to be near him. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she liked the feeling of butterflies that arose from every single touch and point of contact she’d had with Mitch. It might be torture or career suicide, but she knew she couldn’t walk away. Plus, she was great with these types of injuries and would have a sense of satisfaction by getting him back to fighting form.

Sasha moved to her desk and pulled up her scheduling assistant in her laptop.  “Listen, I can see if we can get Carmen assigned to him, but it may not be for a few weeks. Can you handle it until then?”

It was Sasha’s concern for her friend’s well-being in that moment that overwhelmed Rylie to the point of tears, and she wasn’t a crier. It made her feel like a spoiled, tantrum-pulling twerp. Rylie, not normally prone to physical expressions of adoration, bent down to hug her friend around her neck. 

“If I haven’t told you lately, you’re an amazing boss, Sash.”

Sasha glanced up in surprise at Rylie’s PDA, obviously unaccustomed to that type of response from her. “Well aren’t you just the kiss-ass today. I should really milk this for all it’s worth and make you buy me dinner tonight. Or better yet,” she grinned, “Neiman’s is having their fall sale, and I’m in desperate need of a new Tory Burch handbag.”

“That sounds just riveting...NOT. How about we go out this weekend after we see Mark off to Africa. I’m exhausted from being out late last night and tomorrow night I’m going over to Dad’s for dinner and football. You’re welcome to come over with me.”

“I’ll take a pass on that one, too. Maybe I’ll swing by Mark’s to see if he needs any help packing tonight. That reminds me, are we driving together to the airport on Saturday?” she asked, taking a sip of the herbal tea she’d just brewed.

“Yeah, I’m teaching my self-defense class at nine and then I’ll come pick you up. Sound good?”

“You bet. And I’ll be on pins and needles waiting to hear how the Friday session with Mr. Charming goes,” she quipped, heading out toward the clinic gym. 

Giving her a mocking shove, Rylie followed her out the door. “You bitch, don’t make me regret what I said earlier.”

****

Thursday nights during football season were spent at her dad’s house where Rylie, her dad and older brother Dylan would root for their favorite teams, eat nachos and pizza, drink several six-packs, and generally banter with each other over their fantasy football wins and losses for the week. Rylie always enjoyed this time with her small and uniquely male family, joking and cavorting as one of the guys. Male bonding, with a little estrogen thrown in the mix. 

Just after leaving the clinic Thursday evening, Rylie stopped off at the liquor store to pick up her favorite snacks and beer before heading to her childhood house. The store was packed with jersey-clad football fans, all of whom had similar ideas on pre-game libations. Her day had been much less stressful than the previous one, only because Mitch hadn’t been scheduled. While her caseload kept her extremely busy, she still found time to think about him. And that pissed her off.

She hoped that an evening of football would calm her nerves and keep her attention on something else for a while. Heading back to the refrigerated section of the store, she opened the cooler door and pulled out a case of Heineken. Just as she was about to turn back around, a voice from behind caught her off-guard, nearly making her stumble head-first into the cooler.

“I didn’t expect you to be a beer drinker,” came the low, silky baritone. “But Heineken’s a good choice.”

Rylie regained her balance and swung around, gripping the sides of the case of beer, as if holding on for dear life. 

“What the…how the?” she stammered, clearly at a loss for words to see Mitch standing in front her. “Are you one of those stalker patients already? You know, I had a feeling about that.” Letting the door close behind her, she tried to step forward and around him, but was blocked.

Mitch didn’t budge, his crutches planted firmly on each side.

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it, IQ?” He responded with a sexy laugh. “Is it so strange to run into your clients outside of the clinic?”

Mitch shuffled and turned to his left to let Rylie get around him. “But for the record, I’m just here picking up some things for the game. Looks like you might be doing the same thing,” he said, gesturing to the beer she was holding, or maybe her Patriots jersey. Rylie stood, gripping the case of beer in her hands, a bit of the deer in the headlights thing going on.

Mitch cleared his throat. “But, since you’re here, could I ask you to do me a favor?” He gave her a pleading look. He may have even batted his eyelashes at her.

Rylie eyed him suspiciously, unsure if she should say yes before knowing what he wanted from her. Knowing him, it would be something sexual, no doubt. She looked over his shoulder past him to the right and then the left, returning her gaze back to him slowly.  “I don’t know. What kind of favor?”

He gave her a low chuckle. “Well, I’m sure I could think of a few, but in this instance, I failed to consider how I’d manage to carry the items I
need in my current handicapped state.” He gestured down to his crutches. “If you could help me pick up the things on my list, I’d be more than happy to throw your beer and chips on my bill.”

Feeling like a bitch if she left him to his own devices, Rylie reluctantly gave in to his plight. “Sure, okay. But let’s make it snappy, I have someplace to be. So, where’s the list?”

“In my iPhone…which is in my front pocket.” He raised his eyebrows, as he gestured with his eyes down to his jeans.

A strangled noise erupted from the back of her throat.

“Nope. No way am I going there. Get the list out yourself.”  She shook her head in disgust and waited for him to comply.

“What, no helping an invalid?  Fine.” Mitch reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and entered the code to bring up his Notepad. Handing the device over to her, they proceeded around the corner to the wine aisle. 
             

A quick glance down at the list had her questioning her limited knowledge of wine. His first three listed were French Bordeaux from some winery called Chateau
Margaux. She had always been a beer or cocktail drinker and didn’t know a thing about wines. Walking slowly so that he could keep up with her, they rounded the corner and he pointed to the two bottles he wanted. Grabbing them off the shelf, Rylie noticed the price tag in big, red digits.
Twelve-hundred dollars
?  

She turned her head back to him, letting out a
tsking sound. “You know what they say about men who drive sports cars and buy over-priced wine, right?” she quipped, uttering a hmmph of disgust and placing the bottles in the cart she’d acquired.

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t. And who says I drive a sports car?”

“Just a hunch. You look and act like the type. Pretty Boy’s who try to impress.”

“Oh really? And what type are you, IQ? The “all men are pigs” garden variety woman?” He was pushing her buttons and she knew it.  Rylie could once again feel the blush creep up over her face. She’d not let him get her riled up. She would remain in control. Keep her cool.  

Her hands gripped tightly around the cart handle, she turned to face him with the intention of giving it back to him.  Instead, it struck her how handsome he was, staring down at her with that sexy five o’clock shadow and intense hazel eyes. Just how he looked when she met him at the bar on Tuesday night, which shot sparks of electricity through her body. The color of his eyes were enhanced by the green T-shirt and gray cashmere crewneck sweater he wore, paired with worn jeans. She had to look up to meet his gaze, even though she was five-foot-eight, he towered over her. She thought he had about six inches on her, which did not improve her level of confidence when he stared, giving her a look that told her he’d easily throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to his bed.    

“As a matter of fact, I don’t think that. I’ve lived with my father and brother who were always respectful to women and they didn’t feel the need to impress women with the money they could throw around.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing, trying to impress you? You must have a very high opinion of yourself. If you recall, I came here with the list already written and no way of knowing I’d run into you. And what’s so wrong about enjoying good wine?  I’m sure you have favorite things you’ll spend good money on. Now, if we can move along, you have somewhere to be.”

Well, she felt like an idiot. She didn’t know why she made such a big deal out of his purchases or why it bothered her so much. So what if he dropped a grand on a bottle of wine? She knew for a fact that Sasha would easily spend five-hundred dollars on a pair of heels or a handsome sum on a Hermes bag. Why she got so agitated over Mitch’s spending choices was a mystery to her. 

Moving back down the aisle, she grabbed another bottle, this one a Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac 2006. The last item on the list was Magnums. 

She was no wine connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew a Magnum was a very large bottle of wine, but she didn’t know what kind he was looking for or which aisle to locate it in.

Rylie extended her arm to press the phone into Mitch’s chest. 

“A little help on this one,” she asked.

Mitch’s mouth pressed up into a playfully naughty smile, lighting up his eyes with mischief.

“You want me to explain
what
they are or
how
they’re used? Because I’d be happy to demonstrate if you need a visual explanation.” His body shook with laughter.

She was perplexed. What did he mean? She looked at the list again and then back to Mitch, his face lit up with mocking
interest. Finally getting it, she gave him a shove, sending him off-center and unsteady on his crutches.