With a lackluster smile, she waves and says goodbye.
I sink down deeper into the water and lean back, shoving the towel she just used under my head for a pillow. The lingering scent of musky jasmine tickles my senses and fills my mind with the memory of Hannah’s face so close to mine.
And all I can think of is what it would have felt like if I’d turned my head just a little more.
CHAPTER 5
Hannah
“Okay, Sparky. You did great, big guy.” Once I finish his post-workout massage, I scratch his shanks so he knows he’s finished. He spins around and rewards me with a generous slather of my nose, which I eat up with immense pleasure—one of the many perks of my job.
Sparky’s owner, Ben, stands up from his chair in the living room with a bit of a wobble.
I close the gap between us as quickly as possible without making it obvious that I’m concerned Ben might fall. The man is eighty-two and still kicking like a stallion most days. But lately, he’s seemed unsteady. “Sparky’s recovering nicely from his hip surgery.”
“He’s like me, a determined old dog.” He gives me a look that says he knows exactly what I was doing, which I should have known better than to fool an ex-cop. Although he’s been retired from the force for years, he stayed involved with the K-9 program by helping re-home retired police dogs. Sparky was his last case two years ago. They bonded so tightly that Ben kept him, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise when Ben’s wife passed away soon after.
I match his chuckle with my own. “Older. Not old. You two are smashing it.”
Finishing my day here definitely helped get my mind off Nick. That instant when our eyes met…there’s no denying the moment was hotter than the spa pool, but that can’t happen again. I have to find a way to help Nick without ramping up the heat that’s clearly zinging between us.
And as attracted as I may be to Nick, I know his type. My failed relationship with Bryan taught me how to recognize that mentality in the athletes I treated—not all of them, but a fair number of them. I totally understand how it can be hard to resist that kind of attention when you’re in the limelight. Some of them dealt with it better than others. Unfortunately, my ex used the attention—and me—to fill an insatiable, empty void in his life.
I pull my phone out of the side pocket of my pants and open my calendar. “Same time next week?”
Ben nods. “And I wanted to ask you if you’d be available to help me.”
I look up. “Oh? What’s going on?”
His grin turns sheepish as he pets Sparky, who stays by Ben’s side like a guard dog. “Seems the old boy and I are more alike than you’d think. I’m having hip replacement surgery next week. My daughter is flying out, but I know I’ll need physical therapy longer than she’ll be able to stay. Any chance you could make house calls for an old coot like me?”
“Hmm, I usually don’t treat old coots, but I can definitely help a jamming young guy like you, Ben.”
He guffaws and waves me off. “You’re too kind.”
“Nope, just being real. And it’s no problem. I can combine both of your sessions on the same day to make things easier. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect.”
“Great, I’ll see you next week to work on Sparky and check on how you’re doing.”
After I leave Ben’s, my intention is to head home and relax with a good book and maybe even a glass of wine. I think I’ve earned it. Maybe a little Netflix binge distraction to continue the ‘don’t-think-about-Nick’ challenge, too. Even in his limited state, the man exudes a quiet strength that’s sexy as all get out.
Plus, he had me at Turtle Patrol. I mean, come on. A guy who loves to save baby turtles so much that he sports this tribal-like tattoo of water swirls and turtles? How could I not admire it?
And him. But from afar, anyway, of course. No entanglements can happen there.
I’m so lost in this thought train I don’t realize that I’ve grunted out loud until the woman getting out of the car parked next to mine gives me a strange look, and that I’ve driven the entire way back to my apartment without remembering much of the trip. Good thing Sarabella isn’t that big, geographically speaking.
When I get inside my place, my phone chirps. A message from my best friend, Madi, appears on the screen.
I’m taking the evening off and have a rather large container of shrimp fettuccine from the Turtle Tide that needs consuming. Shall I come your way, or would you prefer to come mine?
I grin. Just what I need. Best friend distraction, and Madi is great at that. She owns the Sandpiper Inn and always has the most fascinating stories about her guests to share, which she usually prefaces with a verbal NDA.
Just got home and in need of a shower. I’ll be ready by the time you get here. I have wine.
???? On my way
