Out of the Ashes Page 6

  “The pain is nearly insignificant.” His voice draws me back from my admittedly crazy inner dialogue. I notice his tone has a hint of surprise woven through it as if he hadn’t really expected such impressive results.

  Which, after everything the man’s been through, I can’t blame him.

  “Great,” I say, hearing his movements as he removes his ball cap before placing it in the other vacant chair. While recording notes in his file on the computer, I mentally prepare myself for his adjustment because it will mean touching him, although not at all in the way he “touched” me earlier.

  Mentally slapping myself, I clear my throat. Rising from the chair, I move over to where he’s sitting on the table.

  “Lie face down.”

  When he makes no move to do so, my eyes dart up from where I’d been focusing on his left shoulder to finally meet his warm, deep brown gaze.

  “Any reason you’re avoiding looking at me?” His inquiry is soft-spoken, gentle, his eyes questioning.

  “No, I—”

  “Presley.” The way he says my name, the way it rolls off his tongue, jars something from the recesses of my memory. He spoke it in my dream; he said my name in the same manner, in that same deep, dark, seductive tone. I don’t think he even realizes how sexy it sounds.

  “If something’s wrong, if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable in some way, please tell—”

  This time, I interrupt. “No.” His eyes focus on me with great intensity. “You haven’t done anything at all. I’m having an odd morning and still trying to get past a really…” I falter for a beat, glancing off to the side as I try to find the right words. “Odd dream.”

  Jesus, I shouldn’t have admitted that. Totally unprofessional. But surely, he’ll think I’m implying one of those eerily frightening dreams. The ones that don’t make sense but are so bizarre they leave you reeling.

  As soon as my eyes return to his, I know I’m screwed. Because at that moment, I watch as something flickers in his dark eyes. Intent, heat, and…desire. Just as quickly as I catch sight of it, though, it’s gone.

  And it leaves me feeling conflicted. While I’m grateful he’s not calling me out on anything and not making me feel more inappropriate than I already do, part of me feels slightly bereft he didn’t say anything.

  That part of me—that part needs to take a hike. Because never in a million years have I ever considered cheating. Ever. And I’m not about to start now. Not mentally, emotionally, or physically.

  Once Hendy finally lowers himself to lie face down on the table, I let out a tiny sigh of relief that he’s decided to let the moment pass. Still, there’s something I can’t deny.

  This tall, charming man who carries around more pain than anyone should have to deal with in a lifetime has awakened something within me.

  And that just won’t do.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hendy

  Clue: Other phrases for an erection.

  Answer: What is hard-on, full salute, and stiffy?

  What is me, now that I’ve realized my doctor—who happens to be smart as hell, sexy, and beautiful—basically told me that she had a hot fucking dream?

  About me.

  I know women well enough to read them damn accurately. I knew something was up the moment she entered the small room. The way she avoided meeting my gaze. She didn’t realize her eyes would dart over me and pause briefly on my crotch. It was brief, but I caught it.

  It took every fucking ounce of willpower to ensure I didn’t get a hard-on then and there. Undoubtedly, that would have sent things into a tailspin of a shit show. But I knew it when she hesitated over her words and the way her eyes flitted away to avoid meeting my gaze. An odd dream. Odd because she’d dreamed of me. Not only that, but she dreamed of me fucking her or something equally as hot, I’m sure. That much was clear by the flush that spread across her cheeks.

  I had to remind myself—yet again—that she’s taken. She belongs to someone else. I never poach on another man’s woman.

  No matter how much, for the first time ever, I want to. No matter how much of a pull I feel whenever I’m near her.

  Once she’s adjusted my back and I’ve turned over for her to work more on my neck, I’ve managed to get myself under control.

  “Have you been keeping up with Jeopardy’s Teachers Tournament?” Raising my eyes to meet hers, I find her face upside down. She leans over me a bit to stretch my neck before she swiftly turns my head, realigning the vertebrae while I lie on the table.

  “Definitely.” Her lips turn up at the corners, and she turns my head to the other side, preparing to make another adjustment. “I’m going to miss tonight’s episode, though, which is a bummer.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I have a Chamber of Commerce awards banquet to attend.” She finishes adjusting me and backs away as I sit up, sliding off the table to stand.

  Reaching for my ball cap, I tug it on, pulling it low. “Banquet, huh? Sounds like a big deal.”

  Typing in her notes regarding my adjustment, she smiles, facing the computer. “They’re naming the winners of the local ‘Best of the Best’ voted in Fernandina Beach. I’m going to receive the award for best chiropractor.” Saving the information, she clicks on something, and the monitor displays the screen saver. Then she turns to face me.

  “That’s awesome! Congratulations, Presley.”

  She flushes from my praise, murmuring her thanks before opening the door for us to exit. I’m her final patient for the morning before they close for lunch.

  Walking down the hallway, we continue chatting as we make our way to the front desk. “I have to wear a fancy dress and heels, so it’s going to be more torturous than anything else. But it’s exciting. And an honor.”

  My eyes take her in, imagining her in a cocktail dress and—

  Fuck. I shouldn’t imagine her in anything. I have no damn business going there.

  “Presley. I have some bad news for you,” Lucia interrupts my self-recriminations. As Presley and I draw to a stop at the front desk, she continues, “Dylan called and said he couldn’t make it to the banquet tonight.”

  Disappointment flickers across Presley’s features, and she lets out a long sigh. “Great. That means I have to fly solo.”

  “Maybe someone can help you?” Lucia eyes me expectantly, totally obvious. This woman doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body.

  “You need a plus one?” I look over at Presley.

  Her smile is forced. “No. Thanks, though. It’s fine.” One slim shoulder lifts. “Dylan might be able to make it after all.” Checking the time on her watch, she excuses herself. “I’m going to catch up on some paperwork. See you on Tuesday, Hendy.”

  “Take care.” I watch as she disappears back down the hallway to her office, and a realization hits me. I watched a woman walk away from me—an extremely attractive woman—and didn’t check out her ass. Because I’m more concerned about her…feelings.

  Shit. I’m suddenly worried about a woman’s emotions to the point that I refrain from checking out her firm, luscious ass. Wearily dragging a hand along my jaw, I let out a silent groan, tugging my ball cap lower. Maybe I need to take up knitting and shit, too, while I’m at it because I’m clearly going soft.

  “Tormented, eh?” Lucia’s voice draws me from my inner turmoil.

  My eyes meet hers, and there’s no denying the amusement in her gaze. With a short laugh, I shake my head. “You’re trouble. You know that, gorgeous?”

  Her smile widens. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Saying goodbye while sliding on my sunglasses, I head out to my truck. As soon as I press the key fob to unlock the doors, I feel it. Something I haven’t felt in a long time—not since I was in the damn desert of Afghanistan.

  Eyes.

  Watching me.

  I immediately scan my surroundings once again. The small parking lot for Presley’s practice and all the cars belonging to her and her staff—none unaccounted for, no
thing out of place. Taking in the wide strip of landscaping separating her business from the small row of shops next door, I still can’t pinpoint anything out of the ordinary.

  An outdoor patio of the quaint tea shop has a handful of patrons enjoying the sunny weather. My eyes drift along the remaining shops, finding nothing out of place, but something brings my attention back to the tea shop’s patio. Nothing but women, ranging from their late twenties to late sixties, are sitting and chatting over tea and sandwiches.

  One woman is alone, reading on an e-reader and casually sipping her tea. Nothing stands out about her, aside from the fact she’s alone, yet something brings my eyes back to rest on her. She raises her head, and even with the sunglasses covering her eyes, I can feel her gaze, her appraisal, before her attention returns to the device in her hand.

  Shaking my head, I mutter to myself derisively, “Shake it off. Just because a woman checked you out doesn’t mean anything else.”

  As I drive home, that lone woman stays in the back of my mind. If my days as a SEAL reinforced one thing, it was trusting my sixth sense.

  It was never wrong.

  In this case, though, I don’t know what the hell to make of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Presley

  “But, Dylan, you know how important this is,” I protest, sliding the key in the lock to open my front door. My cell phone is pressed against my ear as I enter and lock the door behind me.

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t make it because this account is huge and—”

  “You’ve known about this for a while.” My tone is sharp, and strains of anger break through. “I told you about it and even had your secretary put it on your calendar as an additional reminder.”

  He lets out a long sigh as if I’m a small child he’s growing impatient with. “It’s only an awards banquet, Presley. It’s not as if you need me there. And I thought you’d understand since you know I’m trying to make partner so we can have a bigger income and do more for the wedding.”

  But I don’t care about any of that if you’re never going to be around!

  Tossing my keys on the counter, I attempt a deep, calming breath. “I have to get ready. We’ll talk when I see you next.” I pause when he doesn’t respond. “I love you.” My voice sounds far away, tiny, and there’s an internal voice screaming at me with doubt, questioning whether that sentiment is true.

  “Love you, too. Gotta run.” Before I can say anything else, he’s disconnected, and I’m left staring down at the cell phone in my hand with one nagging thought running through my mind.

  It says volumes when your patient—your sweet, handsome, charming patient—is more excited and congratulatory about your achievement than your own fiancé.

  Shaking it off, I head toward my bedroom and connecting bathroom to prepare for the banquet. With the knowledge I would be receiving an award, I’d planned to look my best. Dress to the nines so Dylan was proud to have me on his arm. Maybe even make him pay attention to me again. Things had been different for the past few months. Distant. Sure, I knew he was busting his ass at work, but it didn’t mean I didn’t miss him. Miss the way we used to be.

  I shower quickly and apply more makeup than I’ve worn in years. Taking extra care with my hair as well, I curl it into loose waves. Carefully pulling on the red cocktail dress I’d purchased especially for the occasion, I falter briefly, wondering if I’ll look okay.

  And again, I wish Dylan were coming with me. He’d acted like this award wasn’t a big deal. But having the entire community vote your business practice as the best—that’s huge in my book. Knowing I’d helped that many people and they think so highly of me.

  “Get over it, Presley.” I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the satiny material of my dress. “At least you get to dress up all girly for once, right?”

  I have to admit, I look…pretty tonight. The dress’s one shoulder strap complements my body and makes my already-mediocre-at-best bust line look larger. The hemline hits just above my knees and accentuates my slim waist. This look certainly contrasts with my everyday appearance at the office.

  I pull a small, silver wristlet from the back of my closet and transfer what I need for the evening from my purse when my phone vibrates. Checking to see who has sent me a text message, I sense my heartbeat picking up at the thought of Dylan texting me to say he’s on his way. Only for it to plummet when I see Lucia’s name.

  Still flying solo, chica?

  Quickly, I type out a brief affirmative response before tucking my phone inside the wristlet and zipping it up. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I slide my feet into the strappy silver heels I know I’ll regret and feel guilty for wearing. I stay on my patients’ cases about wearing them—especially daily—educating them about the ill effects on the spine. But tonight is clearly an exception for me.

  After fastening the straps, I rise, walking over to my floor-length mirror. The reflection shows me exactly why women wear these torturous shoes. Because they do amazing things for my legs.

  Not that I have anyone to impress or to wow tonight.

  Once I lock the door behind me, I carefully hold the railing and descend the stairs to the driveway, where I slip into my car and buckle up. On the drive over to the resort where the awards banquet’s being held, I give myself a pep talk.

  “You’re a grown woman. You can accept an award by yourself. It’s no biggie.”

  And the entire drive to the resort, I fail at believing anything I say.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hendy

  “That was a terrible call!”

  Kane protests at one of the mounted televisions displaying a college football game with his team, University of Texas. Roman “Doc” Watts, former SEAL sniper who also works for Foster, sits with Kane and me on the large outdoor patio of Surfside Bar and Grill.

  Surfside is one of my favorite restaurants, with an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean directly across the street. That and they have numerous televisions around the perimeter for prime sports watching.

  “Thought Fos was joining us?”

  My gaze rests on Doc, who grins. His green eyes sparkle as he clearly enjoys offering up the answer. “He had to cancel since he got caught up dress shopping with Noelle.”

  The hand bringing my beer to my lips pauses as I stare at him. “Say what?”

  “Dress shopping, darlin’,” Kane chimes in without drawing his attention from the game. “Noelle surprised him by going so far as to schedule him leaving the office early with her to get his help in picking out a wedding dress. Said she didn’t want it to turn into an all-day event with the other ladies, and since he had good taste in other things he’d bought her before—”

  “Meaning those things,” Doc interjects with a mischievous grin.

  “I somehow can’t picture Fos in a dress shop…” Trailing off, I curl my lips into a smile as I imagine my tough, former SEAL buddy helping his fiancée choose a wedding dress.

  We all chuckle, but just as my lips part to speak again, the air shifts abruptly and I get that same feeling I had the day I left Presley’s office. Like eyes are on me. Tugging at the brim of my ball cap, I catch Doc’s gaze and watch as awareness hits the former SEAL sniper. It comforts me that I’m not alone in this feeling.

  But it’s also discomforting to know I’m not the only one to pick up on it.

  “You feel it, too?” I ask Doc quietly.

  Kane, still watching the college football game, doesn’t miss a beat. “You mean the chick with the dark brown hair, sitting alone at the small bar, sipping her drink? Figured she was checking out Hendy and drooling over him as all the women do.”

  Casually darting a glance over to the smaller bar a few yards away from where we’re seated, I catalog the details. Her posture and the way she keeps her sunglasses on even though an awning provides shade to those sitting directly at the bar. The way she doesn’t appear to encourage conversation like most others or get the insider info
from the locals on the best restaurants and must-see sights are also telling.

  She looks similar to the woman I noticed on the patio of the tea shop the day I left Presley’s office, but with her large, wide-brimmed woven straw hat and oversized sunglasses, it’s difficult to determine if it’s the same person.

  “I don’t get the nefarious vibe, though.” Doc’s remark draws my attention back to him, his eyes resting on me now. “Do you?”

  Shaking my head slowly, I answer, “No, I don’t.”

  “What? He broke the plane!” Kane bellows at the television so abruptly it causes a few patrons nearby to turn in alarm.

  Doc and I exchange an amused look as Kane realizes his gaffe, flashing an apologetic smile at the four older women. “Sorry to disturb you, lovely ladies, and your meal. I tend to get a little worked up when my team plays.”

  Of course, Kane’s thick, Southern drawl and charming smile immediately smooths things over. This guy is a snake charmer, I swear.

  With a smirk, I tap on the keypad of my phone and send Foster a quick text message.

  Did you find one yet?

  I get a response right away.

  Foster: Never realized there were so many different types of wedding dresses.

  I can imagine Fos running a hand through his close-cropped hair, overwhelmed by it all.

  Foster: She picked one out, though. Simple and perfect like she wanted. And man…

  His words trail off, and it’s now that I feel that tiny seed of yearning. For that. For that feeling. For that scenario.

  For what he’s found.

  Quickly, I type out a response.

  Can’t say I’m shocked. Anything Noelle wears looks great on her.

  And of course, in typical Foster Kavanaugh fashion, his response is simple. I can almost hear the smug, prideful tone.

  Foster: Damn straight.

  “So, what are your thoughts on helping out?” Doc’s question draws my attention from the text.

  He’s asking whether I’m going to help at TriShield Protection, Foster’s security consulting firm, while Fos and Noelle elope to the island of Barbados where they’ll also spend their honeymoon. Even though everyone’s given them grief about it, neither of them wanted much fuss and decided to elope.