Page 53 of Opening Strain

I hate to bring this up, but it’s the truth. “They used to follow Darren.”

“Well, true. But they weren’t as rabid over him as they are over you. We did get questions lobbed at us in the airport once, but generally, he wasn’t their focus.”

Her explanation rings true. For whatever reason, I’m usually the lightning rod the media pursues. “I hear you. But all the guys get their time in the burning sun.”

She doesn’t continue this conversation. “How’s the pain level now?”

“It’s dropped down to maybe a high six.”

She chuckles. “Your descriptions are hysterical. Most people would call it a seven.” She comes to a temporary halt. “Or a nine.”

I lift our joined hands to my mouth. “I’m not like most people.”

Beneath mine, her fingers open and she slips from my hand. Rubbing her newly freed palms against her uninjured thighs, she stands. “Yeah, well, what are we going to do with you tonight? My guest room is upstairs.”

I glance at the staircase and resist the urge to cry like a baby. “I can stay right here. Do you have an extra pillow or something?”

“I do.” She rushes up the stairs like a gazelle and returns with linens and a pillow. “Here you go.”

“Wow. All I need is a blanket.”

“Use them all.” She removes the ice pack and checks my thigh. “I think it’s calming down. Leave it on for another ten minutes then toss it here.” She points to an empty plate on the coffee table, which she moves closer to me.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.” She races away from me.

Or from what she’s feeling for me?

Alone, I finish with the ice pack and drop it where she indicated. Because nature calls, I force myself to wander down a hallway where I find a half bath. It’s cheery, like her, with a unique, contemporary light fixture. When I return to the living room, I unbutton my shirt and toss it onto my other clothes laying across a chair, taking my cellphone back to my makeshift bed.

I set up the pillow and comforter and snuggle under them. Be nicer if I were snuggling with the home’s owner.

My fingers play with the UC pendant around my neck, which has gained even more significance after tonight. In addition to being sexy and smart and thoughtful, Jenna is an accomplished therapist, and she’s caring. She almost made me believe better things can happen. Unlike the awful end to her birthday.

Stop it right there. Do Not Fuck list, remember?

I check the time. Since it’s only eleven, I know Luke will still be up, and he needs to hear about what happened for a variety of reasons. I pull his contact information and press send.

“Hey there, B. How’s physical therapy coming along?”

“I was making progress until tonight. Jenna, her mother, and I went out to dinner to celebrate Jenna’s birthday. When we left, a pack of paps got to us.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

I can picture him pacing around a hotel room, processing what I told him. “How many are we talking?”

“I’d say there were at least fifteen or twenty.” I wait a beat. “All of them are stationed here in the Hamptons. My guess is they were looking for a new story to tide them over until summer.”

“My thoughts exactly. I’ll get our PR team on it. You’ll have a plan in your inbox by morning. I wonder how they found out you were out there?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been keeping a low profile, basically only going to PT. I did go out to dinner with King and Angie, and I found an arcade that helps me while away the hours.” Michelle pops into my mind and I stare at my phone for a moment. “I did meet a woman?—”

“Of course you did.” Luke’s chuckle floats through the air.

“Ha, ha. No, this one tried to get me to take her home, but I passed for various reasons. If I had to guess, I’d say she was the one who tipped off the press.”

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