Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Page 4

  “Hmm.”

  Her astonished expression made him laugh. “What? You think yoga is beyond me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. Ouch.”

  “Well, you’re not really the yoga type.” She knelt and sat back on her heels, reaching out and laying her head on the mat.

  “Oh, really? I can yoga with the best of them.”

  “Uh-huh. We’ll see. Where’s your water? You’ve done hot yoga before?”

  “Hot yoga?” That sounded ominous.

  “Yeah. When we can’t do sunrise on the beach, we do hot yoga here.”

  Crap. What the fuck was hot yoga?

  “All right, we’ll begin with tall mountain pose. We’ll warm up our minds and bodies with sun salutations,” the teacher directed.

  The dude had taken off his shirt and was standing in tight spandex shorts. He was cut—muscles everywhere, without an ounce of fat. Donovan noticed a lot of the women in class staring intently at the teacher as soon as the shirt came off. Maybe yoga wasn’t so fluffy after all.

  As the end of the class neared, his muscles trembled with fatigue, sweat coated his entire body, and he was mildly nauseated. The room was a million degrees and all he wanted was to get outside. The clock said there were still five minutes left of this torture, but he couldn’t let Valerie see any weakness. She was like a wild animal. Any sign of vulnerability and she’d devour him.

  The class transitioned to a pose he’d struggled with during the first set. He caught her looking at him as she stretched her leg up and behind her, grabbing it with her hand and pulling herself into a standing splits with one arm extended.

  Fucking hell, he could do it. If a tiny little thing like Valerie could handle this, he sure as hell could.

  He stretched and pulled and breathed through the pain until a scream of red hot misery ripped through his groin. He fell to the ground and tried to breathe as the agony continued.

  “Oh, God, Donovan. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted, pulling in his legs toward his torso. “I’m fine. I just need to walk it off.”

  He got up and limped to the door, leaving his borrowed mat.

  Jesus Christ, I killed my cock.

  His crotch hurt everywhere, even breathing hurt. He hobbled to his jeep and sat in the driver’s seat trying to will the pain away.

  “Hey, hotshot. You doing all right?” Valerie’s blue eyes peered at him from the open window.

  “Pulled a muscle. I’ll be fine.”

  “Can you drive?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem,” he grunted.

  “Liar. You pulled your groin. My guess is you pulled it pretty bad, too. I did that once and I had to rest it for two days before I felt even close to normal.”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  She leveled her gaze on his crotch. “Prove it. Let me see you push down on that brake pedal.”

  His face flamed when he realized she was looking at his foot, not his crotch.

  He moved his foot to press down and sucked in a breath.

  “Yep. Scoot over. I’ll drive.”

  He debated arguing, but the pain won out. He gingerly moved to the passenger seat and handed over the keys.

  “Mind if we stop by my place first? I only live two blocks away. I’m a mess and I need to change.”

  “Fine,” he said, teeth gritted. He didn’t care what they did as long as he could get to a horizontal position with some ice on his junk.

  His eyes widened as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. Three floors. That equaled stairs. He doubted he could make it up one flight without crying like a little bitch. Please, God, let her live on the ground floor.

  “All right, here we are. Top floor. I hope you can handle some stairs.” She grinned, mischief in her eyes.

  His stomach churned. He summoned all his courage and reminded himself he was a firefighter. He carried grown people from burning buildings. He could walk up three flights of measly stairs.

  “I’m just kidding. There’s an elevator.”

  He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank fuck.”

  Her laughter filled the jeep as she opened her door and threw the keys at him. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice for your . . . um . . . area.”

  He hobbled, in as masculine a way as possible, to the elevator. She held open the door with a smirk on her lips. She looked amazing, even through the haze of pain. She was all pink cheeks and bright eyes as she leaned against the side of the elevator. He forced his gaze to stay on her face, any thought of the rest of her body was a really bad idea.

  “You got any painkillers?”

  “I’ve got some extra-strength stuff I take when I’ve got cramps. That’s about it.”

  He frowned at the elevator door, trying like hell to keep his attention in check. “That’ll do.”

  The doors opened, revealing her roommate, Lena; tall, statuesque, and crazy-pants. She’d briefly dated Klipper and oh, the stories he’d heard.

  “Hey, Val. Bring yourself home something tasty?” Her gaze roamed his body appreciatively.

  “Nope. This idiot tried to show off during yoga and pulled his groin.” Valerie chuckled. “I’ve got to shower, then I’m driving him home so he can sleep it off.”

  Amusement colored Lena’s expression. “Ha! I guess that puts you out of commission for a few days. I’ll alert the sluts of Golden Beach.”

  He should’ve let the comment slide, but the pain in his groin shortened his fuse and he couldn’t contain himself. “Very funny, Lena. Slash anyone’s tires lately?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Depends. Where’s your car parked?”

  Valerie pulled him away from the verbal sparring match and waved at Lena. “Bye, L. Have a nice day.”

  Valerie leaned against the butcher-block counters in her tiny kitchen—the only consolation for its size—and breathed deeply. What was she doing bringing him to her apartment? Well known for his unflappable ego and domineering ways, Donovan was the antithesis of the type of guy she wanted in her life. She’d been there and done that with Mick last year in Braley. Donovan was gorgeous, but that didn’t mean he was right for her.

  Then again, he didn’t have to be right, just fun. Lena said she should have more fun.

  She rifled through the cabinets in search of the bottle of pills she used once a month. The idea of a one-nighter floated around in her mind. It had possibilities. She’d never done it before, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t.

  “You okay in there, sweetheart?” the arrogant ass called from his throne.

  Annoyance flooded her at the sound of his endearment. Slamming the cabinet shut, she grabbed the glass of water she’d poured for him and stalked into the living room.

  “Here.” She set down the glass and pill bottle with unnecessary force.

  His eyes brightened with amusement. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  Grumbling under her breath, she perched on the arm of the love seat. “Don’t call me sweetheart. How many times do I have to tell you? God! It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

  He chuckled and downed three pills with a gulp of water. “You sound like my little sisters.”

  She warmed at the thought of him as a big brother. Being the oldest of six, the concept of a big brother was completely foreign to her. She’d spent endless hours of her adolescence wishing for a big brother who could get rid of the bullies who picked on her because of her size.

  “You’ve got sisters?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Three bratty, spoiled princesses. Olivia, Madison, and Kylee.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin and shifted in his seat, wincing against the pain. “I was the only one until I was fifteen. Then Liv and Maddie came along.
Kylee followed a year later.”

  “So, there’s four of you?”

  “No. Seven in all. Three older brothers, all married off and scattered across the country.”

  “Are they much older?”

  “They’re from my dad’s first marriage. We don’t talk much. Two are in the military, the other is a P.I. in Maryland. They’re way older than me. They don’t get home very often.” His gaze dropped to the worn fabric of the couch.

  “Where’s home?”

  “D.C.”

  He picked at the cushion. Clearly she’d hit a nerve.

  “Why’d you come here?” Curiosity took over as he changed from the arrogant, self-possessed man true to his reputation, to a vulnerable and real person.

  He shook his head and shrugged. “Change of pace. New opportunities. You know, the usual.” He cleared his throat and . . . just like that, the old arrogant ass was back. “How ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why’d you come back across the pond? Those Brits too stuffy for you?”

  An annoyed and exasperated groan escaped her as she stood. “I’m going to take a shower now. I’ll be out in a few minutes and take you home.” She tossed the TV remote and shot him a warning glance. “No Pay-Per-View.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a heart-stopping wink. “Let me know if you need any help.”

  As she headed toward her bathroom, an unwelcome bolt of lust ran through her at his words.

  She quickly showered and redressed. His soft snore drifted down the hall as she made her way back to the living room. He was passed out on the couch, head tilted back, and mouth open. She blotted the water from her hair with a towel and watched him sleep. A sensation, not at all unpleasant, drifted through her. Draping a blanket over him, she admired his chiseled jawline, shadowed with the beginnings of beard. Thick, dark hair fell back from his face and curled around his ears. In repose, he looked younger, more carefree. His full lips quirked up in a smirk even in sleep, breaking the spell. She rolled her eyes and busied herself with household chores to pass the time while he slept.

  When an hour had passed and she’d exhausted all the chores on her list, she plopped down on the loveseat and dove into a racy romance novel she’d heard about from her friends. Engrossed in the world of an over-confident, sexy racecar driver, she didn’t hear him shifting on the couch.

  “Good book?” His deep voice startled her.

  “Yep.” It came out more of a squeak as she slammed the cover of her Kindle closed.

  “Miss Peters, you’re blushing. Were you reading smut?”

  “No.” Her face flamed with embarrassment. There was no way she was going to admit that she’d been in the middle of reading a steamy sex scene.

  “You totally were.” His laughter rang through the apartment. “You know, sweetheart, you don’t have to go it alone. I’d be happy to show you a good time.”

  “Ha! In your dreams, fireboy.” She knew he was teasing, but the thought of his lips on hers, his hands touching her, made her more than a little nervous. Nervous and excited. He was trouble. She needed to get rid of him before her libido won out over her head.

  Chapter 5

  Monday afternoon, Valerie sat at her favorite lunchtime restaurant. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the table, she sighed as she looked at the message on her phone.

  Sorry, on my way.

  Angela was always late. She couldn’t remember a time when her sister had been punctual. Mornings at their house had been ridiculously stressful as children. There was always lots of yelling, mainly from their mom, for Angela to get her butt in gear and get down to the car. Most days, they were all late for school because of Angela.

  “Val, are you ready to order or do you want to wait?” her server, Brett, asked with a cursory glance at Angela’s empty seat.

  She smiled at Brett. “I’ll get the club sandwich. Angie’s going to want a cup of French onion soup and the B.L.T. on multi-grain. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Gotcha. How about a drink refill? You want another strawberry lemonade?”

  She looked at her half-full glass and shook her head. No good having to leave her desk and pee all day. Ingram was already on her about taking breaks.

  Angela burst through the doors as Brett turned to walk away with their orders.

  “Angie, French onion and a B.L.T.?” He checked his notepad.

  “Yep. My sister knows me well.”

  Valerie snickered as Angela slid into the seat opposite her.

  “Took you long enough. I’ve only got thirty minutes left.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing they’re fast here.” Angela snagged a sip of Valerie’s drink.

  “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Angela chewed on the straw, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Donovan.”

  Valerie sat up straighter, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. “What about him?”

  “Why are you giving him such a hard time?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Angela snorted. “Bullshit.” She drained the rest of the lemonade. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you since you came back. You’re so closed off and angry most of the time.”

  Unease tickled the back of her mind as she contemplated her sister’s words. “I’m just . . . under a lot of pressure.”

  “Where? At work? Is it this new boss? You loved working with Grace.”

  Anxiety bloomed at the thought of work. “Work sucks,” she admitted. “I hate it.”

  Brett delivered their food, all smiles and ready for a chat, until Angela set her gaze on him. Her face clearly registered leave us alone, causing him to close his mouth and walk briskly to the kitchen.

  “Quit, then.”

  Valerie popped a fry in her mouth and chewed pensively. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.”

  “No, you don’t. You could move back in with Mom and Dad. They’d love it if one of us was living in their shrine to our childhood.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m twenty-five years old. I’m not going back home. It’s hard enough going for visits and seeing Simon in pictures everywhere.”

  Both girls fell silent at the mention of their little brother. Angela stirred the contents of her soup around with her spoon and licked her lips.

  “Is that what this is about? Simon?” Her eyes softened, a look of pity filling them.

  “No . . . maybe.”

  “That was not your fault. How many more times do we all need to say it?”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “It was my fault. I was talking on the phone instead of playing with him.”

  Angela looked down at her food and pushed it away.

  “Simon wouldn’t have died if I’d just paid attention. He ran into the road because I wasn’t watching him.”

  “That’s no reason to push Donovan away.”

  “How about his reputation? Donovan’s not known for his nice-guy behavior.”

  Angela chewed on her lip. “You don’t know him, not really. He’s better than that.”

  “It’s not just Donovan. I make stupid choices when it comes to guys. Remember Mick?”

  “The guy you dated last year?”

  She nodded. “He was just the most recent in a long line of men who want to control me and whose bad judgment led to people getting hurt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath. She used to be so close to her sister. They shared everything. But after Simon died, she’d started sharing less and less.

  “Mick was the reason the roof collapsed. He was the one who put Mark Ringstad up on that building, the reason Grace almost lost everything, and Mark’s kids don’t have a dad.” She bit her lip, wanti
ng to tell her the rest of the story, the real reason she’d run back home. “I’m done dating. I can’t allow myself to be in another relationship with a controlling guy, or any guy, really.” She rested her head in her hands, resisting the urge to tell her sister everything else about Mick. “Oh, and to top it all off, you saw Blake at the bar. He’s here, working at Golden Beach General.”

  Angela shook her head in disbelief. “Wow.” Her gaze dropped to the table. “Okay. If you want me to, I’ll tell Donovan to back off.”

  “No. I can handle it. Thanks for understanding.”

  Angela’s eyes misted over. “I’m sorry you feel like this . . . about everything. Maybe you should go back to England and work with Grace. Would you be happier there?”

  “No.” She thought about her time with Grace in Braley. She remembered a feeling of freedom at first, but now her memories were tinged with fear. “I don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

  “What do you want to do? If you could do anything.”

  “Teach. I really want to do something important to me. Something that contributes to the community.”

  Angela’s face split into a grin. “You’d be perfect. You’re so sweet and adorable on the outside, but a hard-ass on the inside.”

  “One day, I’ll go back and get my teaching certificate.” Her phone buzzed on the table. “Crap. Back to the salt mines.” She swallowed a groan and dropped some cash on the table.

  It felt good to open up to Angela. Letting her sister carry a little bit of the weight helped her pull herself together and head back to the torture chamber her job had become.

  A week after the now-infamous yoga incident, Donovan was finally walking without a limp. Sully teased him relentlessly about his epic fail at hot yoga and made sure to share the details with everyone at the firehouse. Klipper put women’s yoga pants in his locker and thought it was hilarious to ask him all about his chakras and what downward dog looked like. He heard the telltale laughter of his friend coming down the hall toward him and braced himself for yet another taunting. As Klipper waltzed in, Donovan slammed his locker shut and made for the door, not giving the man a chance to goad him.