…
Filling
his lungs, Alex hunted down his phone, punched in a speed dial and, mind set,
waited to be connected. He’d been as good as locked away here, hell-bent on
withholding any ammunition about his condition or imminent comeback to the
press. But his arm was out of its sling. No one would guess anything was wrong
with his shoulder. Frankly, he’d go stir-crazy if he didn’t break out and soon.
He
knew the perfect person with whom to share some R and R. The same person who
needed to be asked a straight question and, in return, give a straight answer.
Phone
ringing in his ear, Alex lowered into his chair, smiling.
He
only needed to create the right atmosphere.
In
her city practice, Libby sat at her desk, staring at a scramble of near-legible
notes. Almost noon and she hadn’t got close to nutting out the speech she
needed to give this time next month. A formal national dinner with her peers,
she wanted her words on the podium to shine and inspire. And yet here she was,
scrubbing her brow, wishing she could focus on her words.
Instead
she was thinking about the irascible Alex Wolfe and his penchant for being
alternately charming or painfully difficult.
Each
morning she’d show up at Alex’s mansion, and just as routinely he would
complain about whatever exercise she asked him to perform. Although his
shoulder was free of its sling and they’d progressed to using resistance bands
and light weights, clearly he considered the work needlessly repetitive and
beneath him. But even demigods had to show humility and face their vulnerabilities
sometime. Alex’s time was now. Either that or he might find himself in hospital
again—this time, perhaps, under the knife.
Lately,
she felt at her wits’ end. After that day in his garage when personal details
had cropped up to momentarily misalign their relationship, she’d let him know
that she was there for business and business only, and yet no matter what she
suggested or how she suggested it, he seemed more committed to challenging her
efforts or creating a more casual atmosphere than anything else. Clearly he
didn’t comprehend the possible consequences. But she wasn’t about to roll over
and let him run her show, even if a part of her understood his reluctance.
Doodling
a shell alongside her speech salutation, Libby recalled a time when she hadn’t
let anyone get through to her either. Where Alex was too ‘above it all,’ during
the first weeks of her rehabilitation she’d been filled with anger and
frustration. She’d lost the surf, her fiancé … heck, she’d lost a limb . To her mind she didn’t need to work
at getting well. What was the point?
Thank
heaven that phase had soon passed and she’d come out the other end valuing,
beyond anything, the perseverance of people who had not only stood by her, but
had also said, with both patience and courage, how things needed to be if she
wanted to get the most out of life. Like those people who had helped her, she
wouldn’t give up on Alex, no matter what trivialising tactic he used to try to
manipulate the situation. His recovery meant a lot to him. It meant a lot to
her too.
A
harried padding of footfalls sounded on the corridor carpet. Short on breath,
face flushed, Payton rushed into the room.
‘You’ll
never guess who’s here!’
Putting
a lid on her surprise, Libby calmly set down her pen and sat straighter. ‘Given
that blush, I’m guessing Alex Wolfe.’
A
tall broad-shouldered figure was already stalking up behind Payton. Then Alex
was standing in her doorway, smiling that irrepressible smile. Her autonomic
reaction to his presence never failed to astound
Filling
his lungs, Alex hunted down his phone, punched in a speed dial and, mind set,
waited to be connected. He’d been as good as locked away here, hell-bent on
withholding any ammunition about his condition or imminent comeback to the
press. But his arm was out of its sling. No one would guess anything was wrong
with his shoulder. Frankly, he’d go stir-crazy if he didn’t break out and soon.
He
knew the perfect person with whom to share some R and R. The same person who
needed to be asked a straight question and, in return, give a straight answer.
Phone
ringing in his ear, Alex lowered into his chair, smiling.
He
only needed to create the right atmosphere.
In
her city practice, Libby sat at her desk, staring at a scramble of near-legible
notes. Almost noon and she hadn’t got close to nutting out the speech she
needed to give this time next month. A formal national dinner with her peers,
she wanted her words on the podium to shine and inspire. And yet here she was,
scrubbing her brow, wishing she could focus on her words.
Instead
she was thinking about the irascible Alex Wolfe and his penchant for being
alternately charming or painfully difficult.
Each
morning she’d show up at Alex’s mansion, and just as routinely he would
complain about whatever exercise she asked him to perform. Although his
shoulder was free of its sling and they’d progressed to using resistance bands
and light weights, clearly he considered the work needlessly repetitive and
beneath him. But even demigods had to show humility and face their vulnerabilities
sometime. Alex’s time was now. Either that or he might find himself in hospital
again—this time, perhaps, under the knife.
Lately,
she felt at her wits’ end. After that day in his garage when personal details
had cropped up to momentarily misalign their relationship, she’d let him know
that she was there for business and business only, and yet no matter what she
suggested or how she suggested it, he seemed more committed to challenging her
efforts or creating a more casual atmosphere than anything else. Clearly he
didn’t comprehend the possible consequences. But she wasn’t about to roll over
and let him run her show, even if a part of her understood his reluctance.
Doodling
a shell alongside her speech salutation, Libby recalled a time when she hadn’t
let anyone get through to her either. Where Alex was too ‘above it all,’ during
the first weeks of her rehabilitation she’d been filled with anger and
frustration. She’d lost the surf, her fiancé … heck, she’d lost a limb . To her mind she didn’t need to work
at getting well. What was the point?
Thank
heaven that phase had soon passed and she’d come out the other end valuing,
beyond anything, the perseverance of people who had not only stood by her, but
had also said, with both patience and courage, how things needed to be if she
wanted to get the most out of life. Like those people who had helped her, she
wouldn’t give up on Alex, no matter what trivialising tactic he used to try to
manipulate the situation. His recovery meant a lot to him. It meant a lot to
her too.
A
harried padding of footfalls sounded on the corridor carpet. Short on breath,
face flushed, Payton rushed into the room.
‘You’ll
never guess who’s here!’
Putting
a lid on her surprise, Libby calmly set down her pen and sat straighter. ‘Given
that blush, I’m guessing Alex Wolfe.’
A
tall broad-shouldered figure was already stalking up behind Payton. Then Alex
was standing in her doorway, smiling that irrepressible smile. Her autonomic
reaction to his presence never failed to astound
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