LITMIR.BIZ

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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 here, 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.

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