Free Crash Pad by Whitley Gray Page B

He needs his space.”
    “Whatever works for him is fine.”
    “He fights his own battles.”
    Remy opened his mouth, closed it. “Agreed. As long as the therapist sticks around and communicates with me if I mess up. Or if something is wrong.”
    “What if the massage sometimes goes beyond the usual therapeutic limits?” Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Would that be a problem?”
    “I can only agree to that if I know the therapist very well.” Remy kissed the corner of Jamie’s mouth. “So, know where I can find a good massage therapist?”
    “Mmm, maybe…”
    “God, I hope so, because I’d really like a massage.”
    Grinning, Jamie wrapped his arms around Remy’s neck. “I can help you with that.”
    There was a male throat-clearing behind the curtain. “Uh, guys?”
    Whoops . Craig was back. Jamie said, “It’s all clear.”
    “Sure?” Craig sounded anything but.
    Remy snickered and tossed a sheet over Jamie’s lap. “Yep.”
    The curtain pulled back a sliver. Craig peered in with one eye. After a moment he widened the gap an increment of inches. “So did you get what you needed, Remy?”
    “I think so.” He winked at Jamie.
    Craig slid the drape open and stepped in. “Then Jamie and I will get back to work.”
    “Sure. I’ll be in the waiting room. If that’s okay?” Remy held Jamie’s gaze.
    “Sounds good.” Jamie held out his hand. “See you shortly.”
    Remy gave it a quick squeeze and ducked out.

Chapter Nine
    Remy wound his way through the patient area to the lobby and stared at the parking lot. Thank God for second chances . Maybe it would work out.
    Jamie looked good. The ankle had improved considerably but wasn’t 100 percent. Was Jamie working now, or was he stuck at home with a bum leg? Home might still be the nightmare motel with the weird neighbors and exploding washing machines.
    The small waiting room made him antsy, and he headed outside. Not that pacing was much better, but at least he could move. It was a beautiful day, and a stroll around the landscaped grounds of the physical therapy building was just the thing. Mature trees shaded the sidewalk, and rosebushes perfumed the air. He set off at a brisk pace, automatically setting the timer on his watch.
    It was clear Jamie wouldn’t move in with him. And maybe for now that was the best thing. They didn’t know each other well, and Jamie’s past with Vince added a whole new twist to the convoluted situation. Fucking Vince. Who would’ve guessed that ass would ever reappear in Remy’s life? Still, Remy and Jamie had chemistry like gangbusters, and the—hopefully—mutual desire to make this succeed.
    Jamie should be through pretty soon unless Craig had added something to his therapy. Remy rounded the corner of the building and headed to the door.
    A teenage girl in a knee splint hobbled up the ramp, and Remy waited for her to go first. The infrared sensor held the door open. She gave him a shy smile, and he grinned back.
    “Hi, Dr. Marshall.”
    Did he know her? A kid from the neighborhood? “Hi.”
    “I’m sure you don’t remember, but you saw me a month ago when I hurt my knee playing soccer. Tia?”
    Oh, yeah . “I do remember. Your team is the Spikes, right?”
    “Right.” She grinned.
    “How are you doing?”
    “Good. I had surgery, and now physical therapy.”
    The woman behind the girl frowned. “We’re going to be late.”
    “Mom.” The put-upon adolescent tone and eye roll made her mother’s frown deeper.
    “It’s okay. I’ll walk in with you.” Remy gestured for Tia and her mother to go inside, and he followed.
    Tia’s mom went to check in as the girl lowered herself into a chair. “I’ll be so glad to get rid of these crutches.”
    Remy chuckled. “I’ll bet.” He’d never forget Jamie tripping him at the motel. Or carrying Jamie down the stairs—
    “So why are you here?” Tia fussed with the Velcro on her splint.
    I’m here winning back the guy I can’t stop thinking about .