“@baseballblondie wants to know how you’re feeling.”
“Better every day. Thanks for asking.”
“@heather95 wants to know where Sammy is.”
“Hiding under the coffee table.”
Chloe and I continue back and forth for the rest of the drive. We make a good team, one I appreciate more and hate less as she effortlessly manages my accounts. She has no idea how much easier she’s making my life. I don’t normally respond to comments, not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have the time it would take me to do so.
Peeking at her out of the corner of my eye, the distance I sought from her earlier is gone. Instead, this magnetic pull I can’t defuse gathers more heat and I suspect I’m headed toward heartache.
Chapter Eight
#StepUpToThePlate
Finn
Friday morning findsme toeing off my sandy running shoes with a satisfied grin on my face. While a run on the beach is still a couple of weeks away, I did a ridiculous number of squats on the water’s edge. The high reps equal fantastic fatigue in my thighs. A job well done. A balm for my troubled mind and spirit. My muscles will probably tell me I’m a dumbass for going hardcore the day after the team doctor gave me the okay, but I don’t care. Leisurely walks with Sammy haven’t been enough.
I look down at my dog. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing a satisfied grin, too, having done multiple reps of stop, drop, and roll like a preschool champ.
We enter the house through the French door. She takes off for her water dish. I lift the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my brow.
“Where’s your sling?”
The question, not to mention the voice, makes me jump. I drop my shirt to find Chloe sitting at the breakfast bar. Her laptop is open, her phone is beside it, and she’s got her hands wrapped around Drew’s mug. Behind her sits a fresh pot of coffee. Next to that is my smoothie. Sylvie makes it better than I do and she must have decided to take pity on me this morning.
“Good morning to you, too.”
Chloe puts down the cup. “Good morning, Finn. How are you? Sylvie let me in, I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” More than fine, really, but that’s only for me to wrestle with. I move around the counter to pick up my green beast of a drink.
“Sylvie told me you got the go-ahead to exercise your lower body. Do you get to burn your sling now, too?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“Want me to get some matches?”
“Nah. I think I’ll use it for tug-of-war with Sammy. The two of us can work out some aggression over it.” At the sound of her name, Sammy jumps up onto my legs. “Sit,” I command. She obeys so I grab her a treat. “Good girl.”
“Look at you two,” Chloe praises.
“These treats are training crack.”
“Have you tried one?” She reaches for the bag and takes out a soft lamb puppy bite.
I catch her wrist in a slight panic. She’s not going to eat it, is she? “What are you doing?”
She sniffs the treat. “Hmm. Not bad.”
“Not bad? Have you tried one before?”
She eyes me with mischief, but puts the dog food back. “Oh, that’s right, Mr. Baseball Superstar with his gross green drink. You probably don’t touch anything that’s bad for you.”
Not true. I’ve touched her and she’s definitely bad for me. In the best possible way according to my fantasies. I take a step to the side to put a little more space between us and change the subject. “What brings you by this morning?” I haven’t seen her since lunch on Monday. She’s been managing me from afar, she’s assured me, not that I’m worried about it. I’m just along for the ride. And according to a phone call with Rena, that ride is off to a good start on the freeway of fandom.
“Surprise! Read this.” She turns her computer screen toward me. “I was so happy about it, I had to come show you in person.”