A Father for Her Child Read online

  Lauren stilled her hand mid key-turn. “Just Sam?”

  “Yes,” Cadie emphasized.

  Lips pressed into a wholly unconvinced line, her sister went back to her task. “Well, no matter the reason, if you can make his therapy about doing you a favor, I bet he’d go for it.”

  Interesting thought. And not a stretch, either. “It is partly about me. I want to pay him back for all he’s done for Ben and me since Sam died.” The guy had quit his job coaching the US Junior ski team to relocate to Sutter Creek when Cadie had moved home, for God’s sake. He’d gone to every one of her maternity appointments. Held her hand through most of the delivery and kept all her loose ends tied while she was struggling with a colicky infant. Every time Cadie had needed a hand, Zach had stuck his out to help, up until the point he’d broken his arm and leg during spring cleanup. The number of times he’d apologized for not being able to pitch in over the past few months...

  Yeah. That was definitely why frustration ate at her every time she was around him.

  It didn’t have anything to do with the way laughter made his eyes dance or how the bronze skin over his ripped muscles hadn’t forgotten he’d once been a competitive athlete. So the guy was nice to look at.

  More than nice.

  Downright mouthwatering.

  But that was all objective. She couldn’t be interested in Sam’s best friend. Nor could she risk the bond Zach had with Ben over a momentary physical attraction.

  “I doubt he’d agree that you owe him,” Lauren said. “The guy has survivor’s guilt written all over him.”

  Letting go of the now secure shelf brace, she gnawed on one of her thumbnails. “I know. He insists he’s indebted to me.”

  “Come at it from a professional angle, then. You need him for his reputation.”

  “Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” Nodding, she held a support rail for Lauren. “If Zach thinks I need to be his therapist to build credentials for the new clinic, he might play along.” Any publicity would be fantastic and with his gold-medal reputation—not to mention his overwhelming popularity as ski patrol director—he’d make the perfect poster boy for what her center could offer. Especially if she helped him heal faster using a combination of her PT and the other clinic services. And she could rest easier knowing she’d made a small dent in the pile of favors she needed to repay.

  “How about I keep going on the rack and you go see if you can catch him before he leaves the gym?” Lauren offered.

  Cadie scrunched her face—she really didn’t want her sister doing work for her, especially not when Lauren had her own office to set up ahead of her official switch from doctor at the local clinic to health consultant at Evolve. But the thought of Zach spending one more minute overdoing it and causing himself further injury chafed. “You go worry about your stuff. I’ll talk to Zach and then come back and finish before I need to get Ben.”

  Lauren shook her head but she spread her palms in surrender and stood. “I’m not trying to take over, Cadie.”

  “I know. But I’ve been working on this for a year and you’ve stepped in at the last minute.”

  “You said you were okay—”

  “I am.” Cadie rose and put a hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m pumped to get to work with you and glad you’ve found something that makes you happy. But I want to be able to put my stamp on things.”

  A puzzled look crossed her sister’s face. “But given this is an AlpinePeaks project, we’re all involved in it.”

  Yeah, they were, and their father and brother were, too. Technically more than Cadie, because she’d liquidated a good chunk of her shares in their family’s company to support Sam’s dream of becoming a world-renowned, extreme-ski film star. Had he known that attempting to achieve that fame would mean dying, would he have insisted on pursuing it so hard?

  A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it. Best not to answer that question. “I know you’re just trying to help, Laur. But let me take the lead. Please.”

  A minute later she was heading through the atrium, passing the glassed entrances of the spa and the hallway to where various energy-healing practices would take place. She hung a left past a ceiling-to-floor waterfall and entered the fitness facility. Her footsteps were the only sound in the large space—odd to have a gym without some sort of loud music. Had Zach already left?

  But a quick scan revealed him sprawled on one of the exercise mats across the room, chest rising and falling rapidly. His two-day stubble failed to hide the stark defeat marking the line of his jaw. Concern shot through her. Taking stock of potential physical reasons for his unrest, she skirted around exercise equipment as she headed in his direction. Sweat dripped from his forehead into the chestnut-brown hair at his temples. A stability ball and a set of small hand weights lay within arm’s reach. His crutches leaned against the pristine mirror. He’d lost some muscle mass since his accident. But not so much that he didn’t have women virtually lining up outside the door to his apartment, offering to take care of him.

  As if casseroles and doe-eyed sympathy would magically heal him.

  No, he needed rehab. Specifically, her skill set. Which meant no more salivating over the way his thin T-shirt was currently plastered to his perfect abs. Not if she wanted him as a client.

  Business, Cadie. To get what she needed—and to facilitate what Zach needed—it was time to work some emotional sleight of hand.

  * * *

  Breathing hard from exertion, Zach flopped his head to the side, taking in the wonder that was Cadie Dawson in yoga clothing. Tight leggings hugged those perfect legs. Her curly brown hair was straightened today, captured in a ponytail. The curve of her waist, the strength in her arms... His hands bitched loud and long over not being able to slide under her shirt, to test the softness of her pale skin.

  As was becoming more frequent, something mysterious flashed in her blue eyes. He’d assumed that, after all the time they’d spent together over the past seven years, he knew all her expressions. “Cadence. Hey.”

  “This would be going a heck of a lot faster if you’d let me stick needles in you.”

  “We talked about that. Not happening.”

  She crossed her arms. “You must be tired. Your Canadian is showing.”

  He wasn’t going to dignify her reference to his accent. For the love of God, British Columbians did not say “aboot.” That was an east coast thing. But she liked to pretend he did to get a rise out of him.

  “Back to nag me?” he asked.

  “I just want you to get better.”

  “I thought you were pissed about my Whistler trip. About the film.”

  “I am. I don’t think it’s worth risking your rehab in order to get the film done. It can wait. Sam’s not going anywhere.” She let out a dry laugh, the kind that covered her increasingly hoarse tone. Well, sort of covered it. The sound came out strident.

  Zach pushed himself up to sitting, leaning more heavily on his left arm. His broken right arm had complicated his recovery, delaying his ability to get up on crutches. “I have to get it done. It can’t wait.”

  “I’m aware,” she murmured.

  You think you are. He’d confided in her enough for her to know how much Sam’s death weighed on him. But he hadn’t told her everything. Didn’t want to hurt her worse that she already was.

  “Your time crunch is the reason I keep nagging you about trying new techniques,” she continued. “Dry needling, for one. And we could combine PT with some holistic methods from other center practitioners. You’re out of alignment from overcompensating, and you need to loosen those muscles. And the program you’re following isn’t getting that done. Not in time for you to be tromping across a glacier by October.”

  He went through the painstaking motions of getting himself up off the ground. He winced as he limped the few feet to get his crutches. Why did she have to be he
re, seeing him hobble around? “I’m comfortable working with my therapist.”

  Her throat bobbed. “PT’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

  “No kidding.” At this rate he didn’t think he’d be physically comfortable again for the rest of his life. His doctor had assured him he should make a full recovery, but it sure wasn’t happening anytime soon. A cramp pulsed in his back and he straightened, had to breathe deeply to release the pain. He paused for a few seconds to take in another lungful of air before tucking his crutches under his arms.

  “So why won’t you let me help you, then?” she pressed.

  Ah, one more thing he and Cadie wouldn’t ever discuss. He’d literally held her upright for a good chunk of the first few months after Sam’s death. He’d watched her belly grow. Had been the first one to feel Ben’s kick on the outside. Had held the little guy for hours once he was born, letting Cadie get caught up on sleep after a rough labor, pretending all the while that the protective, paternal feelings clamoring in his chest were solely connected to fulfilling his promises.

  Hell, Sam had begged him to watch over Cadie.

  But he had to draw the line at having her massage his aching muscles. And having her as his physiotherapist would require just that. Yeah, he had no doubt Cadie would be the utmost professional during treatment. But he’d had his therapist’s thumbs pressing into his ass muscles more than once. And he didn’t want to know what his body would do if Cadie touched him likewise.

  “We’re friends. It would be weird,” he hedged.

  “But I’ve worked with friends before—” She took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re resistant to letting me help you. But how about the other way around?”

  “Huh?”

  “If you signed on as a client and my ideas work, you could talk us up to some of your friends in the ski world. Or even just locally. Since you moved here, you’ve wrapped most of Sutter Creek around your pinky in less time than it used to take you to rotate through the air eight times.”

  “Three times,” he said with a smirk.

  “What?”

  “I only did 1080s.”

  She let out a single ha. “Whatever. Point being, your fan club will listen to you.”

  Rocking forward onto his crutches, he stared at the ground. Fan club. Not quite. But he’d done what he could to fit in—he didn’t see Cadie leaving any time soon, so neither would he.

  “I’ll talk Evolve up no matter what,” he promised.

  “I need more than that, Zach.” Vulnerability cracked through her matter-of-fact expression and the breach ripped straight to his core. “I need you to be my client. And if you want to be ready to shoot that video come the fall, you need me, too.”

  I need you to take care of them, Zach.

  The words weren’t so different. Memories slammed into him, raising bumps on his skin. Echoes of biting wind and blisters stinging his palms and his exhausted arms shaking under the weight of Sam’s broken body. And returning to Colorado and holding Cadie instead. She, at least, had given him something to focus on instead of his grief.

  But as always, he’d focused on her a little too much.

  Zach swallowed against the fist of guilt clamped around his windpipe.

  The fact he’d been falling for Cadence since the day he and Sam met her in a Steamboat Springs bar was moot. She’d only ever had eyes for Sam. That made it a hell of a lot easier for him to keep his second promise to Sam: not to let Cadie or Ben forget Sam. Which meant getting that video done and memorializing Sam on film. And since switching to Cadie’s care would accomplish that... Damn it.

  He’d have thrown up his hands if it weren’t for his crutches. “I give in. I’ll call my current therapist tomorrow, tell him I’m switching into your care to start dry needling.”

  Her jaw dropped for a second. Then a brilliant smile spread across her face, lightening her blue eyes so that they resembled a clear winter sky. “Seriously?”

  His brisk nod failed to shake out the dread building in his stomach. “You know me, and you’ve watched me ski enough to know my body. This is the right change to make.”

  She paused for a second, seeming to puzzle how to get around his crutches, before going on her toes and flinging her arms around his neck. “We’ll start right away. Meet me in the pool at one tomorrow.”

  He gripped the handle of his left crutch and let go of his right to give her a cursory pat on the back. Just like his sisters.

  As if.

  Hugging his sisters was nothing like hugging Cadie. Hugging Cadie was all about her soft breasts pressing into his chest and the smell of cherries he always caught whenever he was within a few inches of her hair. The sense that this woman’s arms held the secrets to happiness.

  Not for you, idiot.

  Steeling his body, he took hold of his right crutch again. And, thank God, she backed away, too.

  “I really think this is best for you.” The brightness in her eyes faded a fraction. “But before I take you on, you need to promise me something.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. What was one more promise to tangle in all those he’d made to Sam already? “What’s that?”

  “I’ll do everything I can to get you healthy in time to go on your filming trip. But if you’re not ready, you can’t go.”

  He inhaled sharply as his gut clenched. “Deal.”

  She’d better get him rehabbed in time. Because no matter how ready—or not ready—he was, when the helicopter lifted off to take the filming crew into the backcountry, he’d be on it.

  Chapter Two

  Meet me in the pool at one tomorrow.

  Cadie cringed as yesterday’s instructions to Zach echoed in her head. What had she been thinking? She floated in the shallow end of the public aquatic center and watched him amble along the pool deck toward her, supported by his crutches. Shirtless. Showing off a perfect sprinkling of trimmed hair leading down abs that could grace a fitness magazine. Her skin tingled and not from the water kissing her limbs. Yeah, the pool had been a brilliant move. If only she could change history, go back to when she was three and not learn how to swim. Then she could throw herself in the deep end and be done with it. Drowning sounded way smarter than taking him on as a client.

  Nice choice of words, Cadence.

  Her mental sarcasm landed like a boulder in her stomach. For one, this was her choice, and a necessary one. She could truly help Zach and, in doing so, could boost Evolve’s reputation. And she needed to start doing all that without thinking of crappy death comparisons. Sorry, Sam.

  Lacquering on a smile, she waved at Zach, who slid into the water and crossed the pool with long, muscled strokes. He stopped a yard or so away, close enough that she had to tilt her chin a little to keep her attention on his face. He was a good six inches taller than her own five-seven. The height difference held so many possibilities. If he were healthy he’d be able to pick her up and—

  She pinched her thigh under the water. He’s your client. Your best friend. Do not screw that up. “Ready to work?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “We’ll start with walking back and forth across the shallow end and work up to a jog.” The pool wasn’t too crowded—a parent-and-tot class occupied the splash pool and a dozen-odd people were swimming laps in the deep end.

  “Uh, sure.” Following his gaze was a challenge. It seemed to land on her tank swimsuit for a second and then everywhere but, darting from the waterslide to the diving platforms and settling somewhere on the wall behind her. “Walking. Okay.”

  She raised a brow. “Quite the conversationalist today.”

  A faint rosiness bloomed on his cheeks and he rumpled his already disheveled hair, dampening the strands with his wet hand. “I...”

  Way to make your client feel self-conscious, idiot. “Zach. Deep breath. You’ve done this before.”

&nb
sp; “Right.”

  Ri-ight. She loved the way he drew out his vowels sometimes. His voice had become her touchpoint when she’d been in her darkest moments. Blaming herself and Sam and the universe.

  Smiling encouragingly, she motioned for him to follow her. He complied. And as long as she kept her eyes fixed on the oversize lap clock on the wall, and her attention on counting their steps backward and forward, she could almost ignore the way the water swirled around his waist, drawing her gaze to the delicious V of muscle dipping below the ripples.

  Good grief. Focus. And not on that.

  She went to pinch her thigh and brought her elbow up, accidentally deflecting off his forearm.

  “Ow.” He brought his other hand to his arm in an exaggerated gesture.

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry!” Heat flooded her face. Could she not do anything right these days?

  “Cadence.” His thumb dragged along her jaw and she blinked long, trying to ignore the shimmering trail on her skin. “I wasn’t serious. You barely touched me.”

  “I know,” she said, trying to throw a duh tone on the retort.

  He moved his hand from her face to her shoulder. His pupils flared wide despite the bright pool lights and his mouth parted. Snapping it shut, he yanked his hand away.

  “What’s the next exercise?” he blurted.

  “L-lunges.” And thankfully his legs would be under the water while he did them, because the unyielding strength of Zach Cardenas’s thighs could make a nun renounce her vows. Neck heating, Cadie splashed her skin and silently begged the clock to tick faster. Why couldn’t she have stayed in her blissful, mothering fog, unaware of the perfect definition of his quads?

  She worked him through a set of lunges and leg balances, filling the time with chatter about Ben’s attempts to climb the toddler-focused play structure Zach and her dad had built in the backyard a few weeks before Zach had taken his header down Hammond’s Chute. Her son was just figuring out walking, and many a face-plant awaited Ben in his immediate future. Hopefully Zach’s calming influence could moderate the daredevil tendencies her son had inherited from his father.