Chapter 2
JT lay flat on his back on the weight bench and stared at the gym ceiling. He wasn’t bothered by the rusted beams or exposed pipes, but the clumps of dusty shit that hung like Spanish moss made him finish counting reps with his eyes closed. And the fact that Simon was standing over him. He’d been quizzing him relentlessly for the past five minutes.
His mind waffled between thoughts of Paige and her daughter like it had done for the past forty-eight hours. The fact that she had one, and also that the blue-eyed, fry-eating ball of sunshine had an amputated leg.
JT grabbed the bar again, no idea what set he was on, but knowing he wasn’t done. Up. Down. Up. Down. Until his arms shook and his muscles burned. When he opened his eyes, Simon was staring down at him. “What are you looking at?”
“You. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pissed off. I’m having this weird Seventh Sign moment. Waiting for your head to spin or Demi Moore to pop up.”
JT continued his workout.
“What happened? You crash and burn with Diner Girl?”
“No.” He’d barely taken off.
“Did you ask her out?”
He slammed the bar down in the rack over his head. “No.” He sat up and wiped his damp hands on a towel. He stood for Simon to start his set and stared at his friend’s legs, knees bent, feet on the floor.
Did Paige’s daughter use a prosthesis? Did she need one? Maybe hers didn’t fit right. Her stump had been uncovered and he hadn’t noticed any signs of irritation, but he’d barely gotten a glance.
Maybe it was broken, or maybe she just wasn’t wearing it at the moment. He could understand that. He didn’t lie around the house in his. The point was he didn’t know, wasn’t even sure it was his business to know.
He wasn’t a doctor or even a prosthetist. He was a biomedical engineer. He designed, he engineered, and he preferred to keep a certain distance, like a surgeon on the other side of the drape. But he’d wrestled with it for over twenty-four hours since leaving the diner and come up with nothing except that he couldn’t walk away from it or from her.
“It’s not your leg, is it?” Simon asked, sitting up. “Your extreme pussiness about the waitress? Because if it is, I’ll have to kick your ass. Again.”
“You haven’t kicked it yet, and no. It’s not.” It’d been eight years since he’d lost his leg, though there’d definitely been a time it had been a problem, and it had taken some getting used to.
Take his prosthesis off? Leave it on? Or maybe hard and fast up against a wall so he didn’t have to deal with it at all, not the wide-eyed gasps or the sudden change of heart. Not the pity or the weird curiosity.
“Well, at least that’s something,” Simon said, pausing to look at him. “You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.” They’d been in rehab together after Simon’s time at the VA. Hours of therapy, hours of hanging out when neither man was at his best. They were as close as brothers, maybe closer. And Simon, who was sandwiched between two older and two younger sisters, was more in touch with his feelings and using his words than most.
“You need the love of a good woman,” Simon said. “Don’t you ever want more?”
“Do you think maybe you’re getting caught up in the wedding fever bliss?” JT rolled his eyes and talked the shit back and forth with Simon, but yeah. He wanted more.
But it was that wanting that reminded him his leg was the least of what had been lost that day eight years ago. And it had all been his fault.
—
“Don’t look now,” Jenny said, “but Mr. Fine is back and he looks hungry.”
“Is this like Mr. Sexy Hair or Mr. Perky Pecs?” Paige moved around her cousin to refill a soda. Tonight had been busier than they expected, with the cooks churning out food and the waitstaff rushing to keep up.
“Better.” Jenny winked.
Paige smiled and shook her head at her cousin. Always on the hunt for a man. Her own limited experience with men didn’t make her eager for more.
“Are you kidding me?” Jenny went on. “You’re not even going to look?”
She finally did out of curiosity and…crap. It was the guy from the other day. The one that made her pulse beat faster. The one she’d thought was about to ask her out even if she could never say yes. Which is why the tingle on the back of her neck and the heat he brought to her cheeks was so disconcerting. She grabbed a rag to wipe around the base of the coffeemaker. “That’s not my table.”
“It is now. He asked for you specifically.”
“What did he say? Exactly.”
“I said, ‘Hey, handsome, what can I get you?’ and he said, ‘Paige.’ Just like that. Paige, all deep and sexy. Told you he was going to ask you out.”
Jenny must have read the look on her face because she added, “You don’t want him, I’m more than happy. I’d go anywhere that man asked.”
Yeah. Anyone would. And he was looking this way. Crap.
She made her way over to Mr. Fine, as he was aptly named, because okay, yes. He was perfectly gorgeous in a casual, slightly rugged, athletic kind of way, even if she tried hard not to notice. His hair was dark and slightly damp, a black T-shirt covered his chest, just hinting at the muscles beneath. Add to that his eyes and a faint shadow covering his strong jaw, and the entire female population was in danger of hyperventilating.