Page 89 of Opening Strain

She looks between us—me sitting with an ice pack on my outstretched leg and him standing on her right side. A sunny smile of triumph crosses her face. She doesn’t even have to say the words for me to know the outcome of her meeting.

“I got it.”

The Asshole’s eyes get big. “You did? That’s great! Congratulations.” He reaches out and hugs her.

I growl. I’m sure they didn’t hear me since I’m half a room away.

He adds, “So, when do we break ground?”

She laughs. “I’m going to take over an existing building, so nobreaking ground necessary, Austin. I do have to marshal the contractors to do the necessary renovations, though.”

She steps away from him and approaches me. “I see you’re already on the cool down part of your PT. How’d it go?”

I open my mouth, but the Asshole dives in before I can get a sound out. “He did great. He has all the stage one and two exercises down, and even did squats with the barbell.”

She nods, her expression pleased.

“However,” he continues, causing my eyebrows to rise. “I think I might have introduced him to skater steps before he was ready. He did one and his muscle screamed in protest.” He wrings his hands.

Crap. Now I have to give the Asshole some props for coming clean to Jenna. Guess he figured better he do it than me. Nice touch with the hand wringing.

“Oh no.” Jenna rushes to my side. “Bennett, how do you feel?”

I look at her with my puppy-dog eyes. See, Asshole, two can play the same game. “It’s calming down.”

“I wanted to start skater steps today, so I don’t blame you for trying, Austin.”

Well, fuck. There goes my victim positioning. Jenna’s and Austin’s eyes meet and communicate something. I’m not privy to their PT telepathy, but it seems like they’ve reached a conclusion. Not sure what it is, though.

Preferring to get the spotlight onto a happier subject—and not wanting to discuss my treatment plan in front of the Asshole any longer—I say, “Looks like you also have to scout your fourth location too.”

“Four?”

Jenna adjusts the ice pack on my thigh, then stands. “Thanks to Bennett, here, I’ve got the financing for another clinic.”

That’s one thing you can’t give her, Asshole, that I can. Money. Now it’s time for me to get Jenna alone again—I’m sick of sharing her. My fingers itch to unbutton her shirt and strip it off her body, together with the professional blazer. On second thought, perhapsshe should keep them on. I can bend her over the table in the corner and live out a boss-secretary fantasy I didn’t know I had.

Blood heating, I tune back into their conversation. Jenna’s saying, “so that’s why I want to get the third clinic up and running first.”

“Agreed,” he replies, as if she needs his approval.

The way he flirts with her, and is solicitous of her every need, makes me want to puke. Could he kiss her ass any harder? Enough.

I toss the ice pack onto the side table, drawing both of their attention. I raise my hands. “It’s lost its cooling power.” C’mon Jenna, make him take care of it.

“Austin, would you please put the ice pack into the freezer?”

His inscrutable brown eyes dart to me. “Sure thing, boss.”

I don’t help him, but make him pick up the ice pack. Soon, he’s out of the room. I struggle to stand, testing my groin pull. Seems like the ice did the trick. “Congrats, Jenna. Told you it would be fine.”

She tucks her loose hair behind her ear. “It was hard for me to believe until I was told yes.”

An unknown protective streak races up my spine. “You deserve it. I know how to celebrate too. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Her hand flies in front of her open mouth. “Won’t there be reporters?”

Shit. “There may be, but only at the door. We can find a restaurant with a back entry.”

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