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She tore off some paper towel and offered that as well. They were quiet for a moment while he worked away the rest of the wetness and snots. "That's going to hurt again when I get in the shower later."

"I really am sorry. I didn't expect—I mean, why were you following me anyway?"

"I just wanted to see if you liked the game."

She shrugged. "It was okay."

"Just okay?"

"I told you earlier, I just don’t get all the hype."

He folded the towel and placed it on the porch rail. "It looked like you were enjoying it."

"I’m good at faking."

His eyes sparkled as a smile tugged at his lips. "I can’t imagine you'd ever have to fake anything."

A rush of heat made its way from deep in her abdomen up over her chest and caused her cheeks to flame. She frowned, hoping to hide her response to his comment with feigned annoyance. "Do you make a habit of following women home after a game?"

"Only the cute ones." He looked her in the eye and winked again.

Mandy picked up the towel and headed back to the door. "Sorry again about the spray. Next time, though, maybe you should just introduce yourself."

"The boys played well today," he called after her. "So, your faking was appropriate."

She stopped and turned to look back at him. Even with watery, swollen eyes, he was fine to look at. Long dormant butterflies came to life and started dancing inside her as he looked at her. "I don't get the excitement of grown men hitting things and then running around in circles."

"Because you don't understand the game. There is so much more to it than that."

"Okay. If you say so."

He held his hands in the air and stepped closer to the porch. "Don’t hurt me, I come in peace." She watched as he climbed the porch steps and extended a hand to her. "Name's Jamie Williams. I'm the head coach of the Falmouth Troopers and, if you give me time, I will convince you that baseball is the best game around. It’s as American as apple pie. You do like apple pie, don't you?"

Apple pie?

She accepted his outstretched hand in hers. "Of course. I love apple pie. Who doesn't? It’s baseball you’re never going to sell me on. I'm Mandy Gilman."

He held her hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. The action created an arc of electricity that shocked her. She snatched her hand away.

"So, Mandy Gilman, if you don't love America's game, what brought you to the Cape this summer?"

How did she answer that without having to tell him the whole sordid story? Jamie looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath. "You already know I'm a paramedic and I thought a change of scenery might be nice for a bit."

"So, you did know who I am."

"Not until a few minutes ago. How does a baseball coach happen to also spend his spare time running into burning buildings?"

"It’s a hobby."

Mandy laughed. "Running into burning buildings?"

"Baseball. We all have things we’re good at and then we have things we do because we have to." His grin sort of made her want to find out what else he was good at.

"So, which is which?"

"Both. I’m good at both." Oh, she imagined he was probably good at a lot of things.

"Funny, I had you pegged as a washed up ball player that never made it to the big leagues." She had meant it as a joke but the words came out sounding anything but. A flash of hurt passed over his face but disappeared so quickly, she wasn't even sure she had actually seen it.

"You might be on to something."

"I’m sorry. That was rude of me."

Jamie shrugged and smiled at her. "I had my chance but—family obligations, you know?"

She looked out over the dark street. "Yeah, I know. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk. I—"

"It's okay, really. It was a reasonable assumption given I eat, sleep, and breathe baseball from May to August. It’s genetic, I guess. Baseball runs in my family. I’ve got two cousins in the MLB, my dad was a pitching coach for several teams, and my grandfather may or may not have played ball with Babe Ruth."

"Wow. Really?" She may not know baseball but everyone had heard of the Babe. The curse of the bambino was New England legend.

"It's a family legacy. I'm the disappointment."

"I don't see why. I mean, if family was the reason?" Mandy dropped down into the porch swing, only a little surprised when Jamie sat down next to her.

"Because I coach a college rec league. Because my family is the first family of baseball and I prefer to work here, part time, and—God forbid—have a job that pays less than a million a year."

Mandy pushed her toe against the floorboards to start the swing moving. "They think being a firefighter is a bad thing?"

"No. The real disappointment is that I am not coaching for the Red Sox or the Yankees or the Orioles. If I want to coach, I should be going big time, not in some rinky dink neighborhood league, according to my father. None of them can understand my dedication to my players."

"Why are you so dedicated to a bunch of college kids?"

"Careers start here. Stars learn to shine. I am proud to be a part of that."

"I will never understand the appeal of sports. Getting all sweaty and dirty and for what?" Mandy shrugged and released a sigh.

Jamie winked and grinned. "There’s something to be said for sweaty and dirty."

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"Spider!"



"What? Where?" Callie started dancing around and screaming.



"Callie! Stop!" Her roommate froze. "It's there." Mandy pointed to the blanket that covered her. A hairy, brown arachnid was ambling around right about where her abdomen was.



"Oh! Ew! How—we need to kill it!" Callie grabbed one of Mandy's work boots and raised it over her head. As the boot came crashing down, Mandy rolled from the bed and landed on the floor with a thunk.



"Ouch!" She rubbed her elbow where it had made contact with the tile floor.



"Are you okay?" Callie grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.



"What the hell, Cal! A boot?"



"Um, did you see that sucker? He was huge! And I didn't have a baseball bat."



Mandy turned back to the bed. Reaching out, she slowly lifted the boot and the spider scurried out from under the heel.



"Quick! Do something before he escapes!" Callie started squealing and dancing again.



"Will you stop!" Mandy grabbed the edge of her blanket and folded it up and over the critter. From there she wrapped it up like a giant burrito. Funny she should be thinking about burritos.



"What are you going to do now?" Callie asked, finally standing still.



"We are going to take this blanket outside and dump that bastard where he belongs."



"Um, okay." Callie reached for one end while Mandy took the other.



"Let’s go."



"Yes, ma'am." Together they ran through the cottage laughing and squealing. Once they made it to the porch, they threw the burrito blanket over the railing, held one edge, and let the rest roll toward the ground. The perpetrator flew across the sidewalk where he landed on all eight legs. After standing still for a second, he started running back toward them.



"Mandy! He's coming back! Do something!"



"What the hell do you want me to do? You do something!"



"Is there a problem, ladies?" Mandy froze. It couldn't be. Oh, God, don't let that be—she slowly looked up from where she watched the spider. Her eyes followed a pair of long, lean legs to a trim waist clad in loose running shorts, up and over a broad, muscular chest covered in nothing but little drops of perspiration and found a pair of milk chocolate eyes. The owner of the eyes was grinning as he perused her body the same way. She looked down at herself.



"Oh shit!" She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her hips.



"Good morning, Mandy. And—?"



"Callie. I'm her roommate and bestie."



"I heard you two screaming and I came running." His gaze slowly raked over Mandy’s body once again. "I’m sure glad I did."



"There was a spider," Callie finally replied. "He was huge. And hairy and he was coming right for us."



Jamie looked down at the sidewalk. "This little guy here? Aw, he's harmless."



"Not so harmless when he was crawling across my bed." Mandy finally managed to find her words again.



Jamie chuckled as he leaned down and scooped the spider up. "Come here, little dude. You’re one lucky guy." He tossed him over the fence into the next yard. "There. You're all safe now."



"Thank you!" Callie ran down the steps and threw her arms around him. "You're my hero."



He laughed as he extricated himself from Callie's grip. "It's all in a days' work. Glad I happened by at the right time." Jamie looked over Callie, meeting Mandy's eyes again with a big grin.



"He's a firefighter, Callie. That's what they do—save the damsel in distress."



"Ooohhh, a firefighter? No wonder you're so strong." She ran her hands up and down his arms real slow as her tongue peeked out and slid over her top lip.



Stepping back from Callie's touch, he smiled up at Mandy. "That what you plan to wear tonight?"



Every drop of blood in her body raced to the capillaries in her face. "Perhaps," she replied, trying to sound much more calm, cool, and collected than she felt with Jamie's eyes pretty much already undressing her. "You said wear something comfortable."



Mandy was vaguely aware of Callie's gaze flitting back and forth between her and Jamie but she couldn't seem to break away from his stare. The longer he looked at her the more she leaned toward the tearing off her clothes option.



"Works for me." Jamie grinned and Mandy felt her entire body flush with the connotation of his words.

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It was almost three in the morning the last time I looked at the clock so when Amelia entered my room with a tray of food at half past seven, it took all of my self-restraint and the memory of the look on Walter’s face the night before to make me keep my mouth shut.

“Good morning, Landon!” Amelia hummed a little tune quietly as she set up the bedside table. “It’s a beautiful day, today. Perhaps you’d like to go down to the beach after your physical therapy appointment?”

I pulled the covers over my head. “I changed my mind. I’m not going to any appointment.”

“Come on, Landon. You can’t spend the rest of your life sitting here in this room.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You are going to physical therapy.” The covers disappeared from my face as I looked up into the smiling grey eyes of Amelia. “Rise and shine!”

“I’m not getting up.” I buried my head under my pillow.

Amelia walked toward the door. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with him.”

“Good morning, Mr. Reed. Do you plan to stay in bed all day?” A different voice, one thick with the distinctive accent of New York City replaced Amelia’s soft southern sound.

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, it’s all the same to me if you want to rot away in that bed. I get paid either way.” I heard soft footsteps cross the room toward the little sitting area.

Rolling over on my side, I shifted the pillow enough to peek out. From my vantage point, all I could see was a pair of canvas shoes. The television turned on. I heard her flip through channels, finally settling on that home improvement show with the twin brothers. Every woman I knew loved them.

“Nobody watches those stupid shows anymore.”

Either she didn’t hear me or she was ignoring me.

“Those shows are ridiculous.” I made sure to project my voice from under the pillow.

“No more ridiculous than a grown man hiding under a pillow and acting like a two year old.”

I threw the covers off and shot up to a sitting position, ignoring the burning pain in my leg. “What the fuck is your prob…” Holy shit. The woman sitting on the couch looking at the television and completely ignoring me wasn’t hideous or horrible. In fact, she was fucking hot. “Who the hell are you?”  I knew exactly who she was.

She looked over at me, boredom in her expression, before returning her attention to the television. “The nurse your father hired. Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t need a nurse.”

“I agree.” She flipped the channel to a news program and grimaced. “The way you’re acting, you need a nanny.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I turned so I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, the brace making my movements jerky not angry and pronounced like I’d intended.

“It means, you can’t even dress yourself so how can anyone expect you to do anything?”

I followed her glance down to my lap. “See something you like?

“Nope. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen worse. Of course, I’ve seen better too. Much better.” She clicked to another station. I could have sworn I saw her lip twitch as I growled over her insult.

“Just get out. I don’t need you. Tell my father to go to hell.”

She tossed the remote control on the coffee table and checked her watch. “You have ten minutes to get ready for physical therapy or I’m taking you the way you are.”

I pulled the sheet onto my lap and crossed my arms over my bare chest. “I already told Amelia, I’m not going.”

“You are going to get dressed.” She stood and looked me in the eye. “You’re down to nine minutes.”

“And just how do you expect me to get down all of those stairs?”

“The same way you got up them. Walter showed me the elevator.”

Damn it. I was hoping she hadn’t found that yet. “Are you planning to watch?”

“Watch what? There’s nothing to see.” She dropped her gaze to my lap and gave me a little smile that was way more taunting than friendly.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” I whipped the sheet back and reached for my wheelchair. Instead of turning away, she stayed right where she was with that little smile dancing around on her lips. With about as much grace as a bull in a china shop, I managed to get from the bed to the chair while she just stood there and watched.

“I thought you were supposed to be here to help me.”

“You didn’t say you needed my assistance.”

“Really? I had to ask? Isn’t that what you are here for?”

“Let’s get something straight, Mr. Reed.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “I’m a trauma trained RN. I am not your maid or your gopher or any other thing. It is my job to get you back on your feet both literally and figuratively. I’ll handle your medical care and your personal care as needed but I am not at your beck and call.”

“Just get out of my way so I can get dressed.” I pushed past her to the large walk-in closet and started grabbing clothes. Dragging a pair of sweats, some boxer briefs and a t-shirt into the bathroom, I struggled my way into them. The doctors had promised me that things would get easier once the pain wasn’t so excruciating but my knee just refused to bend like it used to.

When I was done, I ran a comb through my wild hair, mostly so I won’t have to see the look on Amelia’s face when we leave the house.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” The nurse called.

“I’m coming already!” I whipped open the bathroom door and scowled at her. “You never told me your name.”

She shrugged. “You never asked.”

She was fucking infuriating—despite the way her long brown hair tumbled in sexy waves over her shoulder from the pony tail it was secured in.

“Fine. What is your name?”

“Evie.”

“What’s your real name?”

“That is my real name.” She stepped behind me and turned the wheel chair toward the door. She stopped and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes from the floor, placing them in my lap.

“I meant, is Evie short for something?”

“Yes.” She pushed the chair down the hall toward the door at the end and pressed the button for the small service elevator—the number one reason I had chosen the beach house as my home base after the accident.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” The elevator opened and Evie pushed me inside.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business. You can call me Evie or nurse. That’s all you need to know about me.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be a real bitch?”

“Honey, I grew up in New York. They teach a class on that in high school.”

The door opened at the ground level. Evie pushed me out of the elevator and down the ramp Walter had constructed to get me in and out of the house.

“I’m going out on a limb here but I bet you aced that class.”

“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Reed.”

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