The Renegade Returns
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Dani Wade
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One
Ignoring stares and whispers was an art form Lucas Blackstone had perfected. The more wins he claimed as a stock car racer, the more attention he attracted. Which was normally fine by him. In fact, he thrived on it.
Used to thrive on it.
Tonight, he wished he could fade into the wainscoting on the walls so people would stop staring. Stop whispering about his arrival at the country club. Stop measuring the difficulty with which he walked to his family’s chosen table. Stop speculating about whether his racing days as Renegade Blackstone were permanently over.
Just as he did during the long, dark hours of every night.
Instead, he pretended this was a normal night, a normal dinner with his family. Not his debut before his hometown after having his body broken into more pieces than any man should experience.
His back straight, he vowed to himself that he would beat this with every single step.
“You’re doing so well,” Christina softly encouraged him as he carefully placed each footfall on the way to their table. As their resident nurse and his brother Aiden’s wife, she had been tracking Luke’s progress since his accident earlier this year. “But by the end of the evening, you might be wishing for that wheelchair you refused.”
“No,” he said through teeth he tried not to clench. He didn’t quite succeed.
He would not resort to invalid status. The marble-handled cane he leaned on was his single concession to his still-healing legs. The plonk every time it met the floor sounded loud in his head, even though he knew it hardly made a sound.
“All that macho stoicism will lead to one thing,” she warned as they reached their destination. Then she rolled her eyes when the men all booed. “I’m serious, Luke. Pretending you don’t need help will just make getting out of bed tomorrow more painful.”
“You’re so cute when you’re concerned,” he cooed back, laughing when she stuck out her tongue.
The reality couldn’t always be covered by his teasing mask—but he sure tried. He’d become a close buddy with pain since his car accident. During everyday tasks, during rehabilitation. Sometimes it shot through him under the cloak of a dead sleep. He hated it, but pain could be good. The sharp sting reminded him he was alive. Not just a shell, a body that would never feel again.
Luke lived for high speeds. Recovery at a snail’s pace could only be described as pure torture. Some days, he’d give anything to take his mind off his present state.
“You keep babying him, and he’ll wish he’d never consented to coming home,” Aiden teased his bride.
All the attention aside, Luke knew being back in Black Hills would be good for him. Helping his brothers out at the mill that supported the entire town would surely blunt the aching need to return to his race car. After a year of what they all suspected was sabotage to their business by an inside source, the family needed all hands on deck.
This is only temporary...
To his relief, he managed to seat himself after only a minor skirmish with the long tablecloth. Damn accoutrements. But the formal atmosphere had been the deciding factor in choosing to eat here tonight. Hope against hope it might keep nosy, small-town people in their seats—for a while.
“Stop pulling at your collar, Luke,” his twin brother, Jacob, reprimanded.
But Luke couldn’t help it. He was as ill at ease as his brother was comfortable in a suit. Even now his hand crept back up to tug at the tie around his neck—give him a racing suit any day. “This damn thing is almost as uncomfortable as all the people staring,” he grumped. His comfort zone had always been his car—not polished silver, gold-rimmed china and fresh flower centerpieces.
“Well, most of these people are family friends, but they still love a celebrity. They can’t help the need to watch,” Aiden explained in his tolerant older-brother voice.
“I just enjoyed it more when they were in awe of my good looks.” Instead of speculating about my doom.
Luke’s teasing tone left his brothers and the women laughing, and gratitude added another layer to his self-defense. The maudlin martyr was not his most sought-after role. Only he knew there was a kernel of truth in his humor, and he would keep it that way. So he covered his discomfort as carefully as he draped his cloth napkin over his lap.
After ordering, Luke deemed it safe to let his gaze skim the softly lit room. A lot of faces had aged since he’d been in high school, though they were still familiar. It had been many years since he’d left town to start an incredibly successful racing career but he’d returned for a few events. Some fund-raisers. Anything to make his visits home more bearable. He had spent time with his incapacitated mother and Christina, who was her nurse. After that, his only thought had been getting himself out of the house without running into his domineering grandfather.
Escape. If his life had a theme song, that would be the refrain. Now that the old man had kicked the bucket, Blackstone Manor had transformed into a home—thanks to the people around this table.
About halfway across the crowded space Luke’s gaze snagged on a tawny, upswept head of hair. The woman’s profile was sharper than it had been in high school, more refined. Gone was the softness of a young woman, now honed into a sphinxlike silhouette that immediately captured his eye.
Avery Prescott. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her on any of his visits home. Which was odd—and from the looks of her, a total shame.
As if feeling his gaze, she glanced his way with pale blue eyes. Despite the distance between them, something jolted through his body. Deeper than an I know you, but not a lightning flash. More a wash of awareness that flooded over all his uncomfortable emotions, muting them to radio silence. When she quickly turned back to her dining companions, he had an urge to stand, to command her attention.
This was a pleasant surprise. Luke had always enjoyed women—the sight, sound and smell of them—but there’d been nothing since his accident. Not even when surrounded by a hospital floor full of pretty nurses. Oh, he’d flirt and play, but it had covered a storm of pain, worry and frustration that he didn’t know how to calm now that his one mode of escape had been snatched from him.
But tonight, watching Avery as she smiled and conversed with her dinner companions sent an electric spark of attraction tingling down his spine. Her frequent glances in his direction made him wonder if she felt it, too, but their eyes never met again.
Avoiding him, huh?
Throughout dinner and conversing with a few brave visitors, his awareness remained. Finally she stood to leave, giving him his first unhindered look at her slender figure. Her sheath dress showcased curves right where he liked them, proportionate to her delicate bone structure.
She made her way through the tables with elegant grace, pausing to smile and speak to several people, but never for long. The candlelight from the centerpieces reflected off her earrings, lending sparkle to her slight glow. Her black sequined dress reminded him of her family’s wealth and the undeniable fact that she belonged in this place. Still she refused to look his way.
He thought she was going to avoid their table altogether, until Christina stood to wave. “Avery, over here,” she called.
Avery’s hesitation was noticeable, at least to Luke. But then again, he’d barely taken his eyes off her to look at his plate. Why didn’t she want to stop and say hi?
His memories were of a gawky girl, shy, always on the fringes. Under direct attention, she would stumble over her words, drop things, trip over her own feet. Tonight she moved with a type of deliberate grace. Head high. Steps secure. This new Avery fascinated him.
Her greeting included them all, when a need inside Luke wanted her to rest those pale blue eyes on him. He kept his body on lockdown, refusing to draw her attention until it was freely given.
“Having dinner with Doc Morris again, I see?” Aiden said with a grin.
“If his wife wasn’t with us, some rumors might have started by now.”
Luke soaked in the slight movements of her hands, the shrug of those delicate shoulders as everyone chatted around him. This is crazy—the last thing you need is to get involved with someone here. You’re recovering. Still he couldn’t look away, couldn’t ignore the draw he felt growing deep inside.
“Doc says someone has to make sure I’m eating. We don’t want to lose a community asset after he worked so hard to get me into good schools and internships,” she added in a decent replication of the older man.
As a round of chuckles rose from the table, she finally glanced his way—and those sparks inside him multiplied. “Um, hi, Luke.” With that slight stall, the first small chink in her sophisticated armor appeared.
He remembered those same words spoken to him with the enthusiasm of a young girl trying hard to hide her crush, but not quite succeeding. Now, that awkward innocence had morphed into a sophisticated woman with a restrained politeness, as if by keeping herself under tight control she could prevent a repeat of the embarrassments of her youth.
Somehow, he didn’t like this as much as his memories.
“Are you a doctor now?” Luke asked. How could he have been home so often and never thought to ask what had happened to the young girl who had hung around the edges of their social circle?
Her gaze touched on his before skittering away. “Actually, I’m a physical therapist.”
Ouch. His recent painful visits for therapy did not make that a happy revelation. Very unexpected. Very unwelcome.
“In fact,” Aiden said with an amused tone that set Luke’s nerves on edge, “she’s your physical therapist.”
In a flash, Luke relived the agony of his therapy sessions over the last three months and winced. Pain forced things to the surface, compelled a man to reveal way more emotion than he wanted other people to see. “Oh, hell no,” he muttered.
Apparently his words weren’t low enough, because Avery’s elegant features took on a hint of frost. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. I’m the only physical therapist in Black Hills. Or within fifty miles of it.”
Damn. “I didn’t mean...”
Her body straightened, gaining only a slight inch in stature. “And I’m a damn good one, too.”
“Everyone around here knows that.”
Luke had been so focused on Avery that he hadn’t noticed the approach of anyone else. Next to her now stood Mark Zabinski, an old high school friend of Jacob’s and part of the upper management at Blackstone Mills.
“So the Renegade is back,” Mark went on, ignoring Luke’s lack of welcome. “And causing quite the stir.”
“That I am.” Might as well own it.
Avery glanced around the table, surveying the reunited Blackstone family. Her voice was hushed compared to Mark’s forceful tone. “It must be strange, having all of you back here, together again.”
Very few people would notice the phenomenon, much less mention how each brother had left, then returned to find their place in Black Hills now that their grandfather was dead. But this was Avery. He remembered glimpses of her standing on the edge of the crowd in high school, alone but not missing an ounce of what occurred.
Aiden’s dark gaze swept over them all before he smiled. “Yes, but family is good. Very good.”
Luke wouldn’t have gotten through the last few months without family, including both his brothers, Christina and Jacob’s fiancé, KC. “Amen,” he agreed.
But as the conversation continued around them, Luke didn’t miss the dark shadow that clouded Avery’s eyes, the subtle shift of her expression. And he certainly didn’t miss Mark’s hand casually lying against the small of her back. A sign of ownership, possessiveness, protection. Comfort for a friend? Or something more?
Avery didn’t move away, but she also didn’t relax into the touch, either. Interesting.
“Mark,” Jacob said, his tone firming to one of authority, “I’m glad you stopped by. The computer gurus are finally coming to install the new computer system at the plant. Time for an upgrade like we talked about last month,” Jacob continued. “We’ll meet early tomorrow morning to discuss it.”
Mark shifted on his feet, his dress shoes squeaking under the stress. “Great.”
Mark smiled as he said it, but Luke suspected he wasn’t as thrilled as he tried to look. Something about the overstretch of his smile, giving his face a slightly Joker edge.
“Avery, let me escort you to the valet,” Mark said, using that damnable hand to steer her away. She nodded, her gaze making a warm sweep of the table...while studiously avoiding Luke.
Why did that leave him feeling cold?
Escorting a woman—something Luke couldn’t do with ease anymore. As if she knew his thoughts followed them, Avery glanced back over her shoulder, but a cool mask still protected her emotions.
Great. Just what he needed—a ticked-off physical therapist with the ability to visit pain on him with a simple twitch of her wrist. His dismissal of her abilities had given her motivation aplenty for inflicting a twinge or two on him.
But Luke was used to using his charm to get out of sticky situations—turning them into something positive, something entertaining. Despite the complication, his curiosity grew. So did his unexpected need. He’d been lost in a miasma of pain and frustration that seriously weighed him down. But this kick-start to his motor had lifted him up, exhilarated him. A relationship was nowhere on his agenda, but a little battle of wills would definitely liven up his current dull existence.
A few fireworks to dull the pain. What could be more fun than that?
* * *
How could anyone look so cute in scrubs? Not that Avery was the type to appreciate being categorized as cute. She probably preferred capable. Her sunny yellow scrubs were paired with a no-nonsense expression and friendly, but impersonal, tone. Her detachment caused him to itch after the receptionist brought him through the double doors into the heart of the therapy facility.
If Avery thought her all-business attitude would keep him at arm’s length, she’d get a surprise. He’d just tease his way through whatever crack he could find in her armor. The challenge brought a surge of energy. Besides, befriending her might keep her from taking any vengeance out on his bones.
An impressive workout room occupied an open central space in the main part of the building. Top-of-the-line equipment gleamed from careful upkeep. Avery gestured him through a side door and closed them inside. The treatment room had the same look of quality, including a padded table, small desk and comfortable chairs. “This place is really nice. You’ve done well for yourself, Avery,” he said.
The compliment garnered him his first genuine smile. No pretense. “Thank you. This building has been a blessing to me and to my patients.”
And it obviously meant a lot to her. “You named the clinic after your mother.”
“Yes.” Her smile dimmed a little, awakening an urge to give her a comforting hug just as he would Christina, who’d proven to be a true friend.
Avery continued. “We became exceptionally close during her illness. Besides, she provided the funding for a bigger, better clinic for the community in my inheritance. We’re very lucky to have it.”
Her pride in her accomplishment added a glow to her expression, awakening jealousy in Luke’s gut. He remembered being proud of what he did, but the memories were fading from sharp to hazy, obscured by the turmoil of recent months.
This woman used her healing talents every day in a community that needed her. How fulfilling must that be? “You have plenty of patients?”
She nodded, sending her thick ponytail swinging. “I like to think it’s because I do good work, and not just because I’m the only convenient choice.”
“I bet it is. You must be good with your hands, huh?”
To his surprise, that professional demeanor slipped and she fumbled the chart from her hands. It hit the ground with a clatter. “That’s really inappropriate, Luke,” she warned with a frown.
He hadn’t meant it to be, but now that he thought about it that way... He watched as a flush of pink swept up her neck and into her cheeks. Oh, she could be proper all she wanted, but now he knew—she might’ve grown up, but this chickadee was still as easily flustered as she’d been in high school.
Teasing her was gonna be entertaining. And her all-business attitude screamed for him to bring a little fun, a little laughter into her life. Since he could use some fun, too, he’d be doing them both a favor. Right?
“I’m pretty well known for saying whatever comes to mind,” he said with a grin. “And being handsome. And charming.” It wasn’t bragging, ’cause it was true.
“And obnoxiously self-absorbed?” The contrast between her words and sickly sweet tone made him laugh. A true laugh. Man, that felt good.
He conceded with a sexy grin. “Maybe. Occasionally.”
That professional mask slipped a fraction more before she smoothed her palms over already sleek hair, back to her ponytail.
He was getting somewhere now. Just a little more ribbing, and she might actually laugh like a real person instead of a robot.
She pulled out a rolling stool and sat, propping his folder on her lap. Guess it was down-to-business time, which wasn’t nearly as amusing. Luke had worked hard at recovery, but this was the first time fun had appeared anywhere in his current nightmare. He didn’t want to leave it behind.
“Goals?” she asked, focusing her attention on the papers.
That was easy enough. His one goal had been blazing in his brain since the accident. “To be back in my car. ASAP.”
Avery glanced up, those gorgeous eyes wide, drawing him in. “That’s pretty decisive.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her tone left him defensive, when there was no need for it. Then again, Luke’s life had been spent on goals other people just didn’t get. “You asked. I answered.”
Her frown and longer-than-polite stare awakened an urge to squirm he hadn’t encountered since third grade.
“Most of my patients are more worried about walking unaided again,” she mused, as if talking to herself rather than him.
Alarm streaked along his nerves. He didn’t want her thinking too hard, digging too deep. So he grinned. “Oh, I have other goals.”
After a minute of silence, she made a speed-up gesture with the pen in her hand. “And...”
“Having a good time doesn’t sound nearly as professional, if you know what I mean.”
The pen hit the floor. Instant color stained her creamy cheeks. Wow. When was the last time he’d seen a blush like that? It must have been— A memory burst inside his brain. High school.
* * *
“Do you need some help with that?”
The jolt that rushed through him had to be from surprise. After all, who would have expected Little Miss Perfect to offer to help him change clothes? A blush spread over her rounded cheeks to match the heat racing over his body.
He looked from the dry shorts in his hand back to Avery in the first bikini he’d ever seen her wear. Must have been bought special for this final summer bash for seniors at the lake before everyone flew off to the colleges of their choice. Everyone except him—his destination was North Carolina and any racing track they’d let him drive on. But even the prospect of finally leaving home hadn’t made him reckless enough to initiate the greenest girl in their group. No matter what her pale blue eyes were begging for. “Honey, helping me would involve a lot more than a change of clothes.”
“I know.” But that flush on her fair skin, bright enough to see in the dim light this far from the bonfire, told him she didn’t truly know what she was offering.
To his surprise, a shot of adrenaline flashed through his veins. The same kind that came with hundred-mile-an-hour speeds and the feel of the wheel beneath his palms. Not the sexy slide into arousal he usually got with girls. Even his alcohol-soaked brain knew this was a bad idea, despite his body’s approval. Better to stop this before it began, even if it meant being harsh...
“I think somebody with more experience would be a bigger help to me.”
* * *
Oh, no. How could Luke have forgotten that long-ago summer night? Without thought, he said, “Holy— Avery, I can’t believe you came on to me that night.”
The little rolling stool shot backward, as far across the tiny exam room as she could go. The thump as she hit the opposite wall went unnoticed by her. She only stared, her flush deepening, spreading down her neck and chest to disappear under the yellow scrubs. “I—”
Why had he said that? Whatever he thought usually slid out of his mouth without any semblance of a stop sign in between, that’s why. Most people found it funny. But her utter mortification was not what he’d wanted.
“I’m sorry, Avery. I should never have said that.” His mama had taught him to own up to his mistakes. People might think he was all ego—and he let them keep believing it—but he’d never dishonor a woman or ignore her distress. “Seriously, I may not always play the gentleman, but I would never intentionally embarrass a friend.”
Her recovery was quick. She straightened on the stool and crept forward with her heels until she’d crossed half the little room. He couldn’t help but notice she still kept some distance between them. The return of the professional mask took a little longer, though. “Friends, huh?”
He grinned, hoping to put her at ease. “I’d like to think so.”
She nodded, as if that settled things. But it took her a few moments to say, “So I wanted a little walk on the wild side.” She shrugged those delicately built shoulders, keeping her eyes trained on his chart. “What high school senior doesn’t?”
His libido urged him to ask if she’d gotten it, but for once he kept his trap shut. He sifted through his memories for any gossip he’d heard about her, but came up empty. All Jacob had supplied last night were the directions to the therapy center. No bad behavior. No scandalous liaisons.
Was there no gossip to be had? Last night she’d been at dinner with Doctor Morris and his wife, who were seventy if they were a day. She’d had no date accompanying her, even though Mark had joined her to walk out. No wedding ring on her long, slender fingers. Her last name hadn’t changed. Maybe there hadn’t been any wild times...
Maybe he should change that?
Oh. Hell. No. The last thing he needed was a casual hookup with the least casual woman he knew. He tried to erase the seductive thought as she spoke again.
“We’ll start each session with a warm-up, then build strength with resistance exercises—first using just your body weight, then moving up,” she was saying, using her pen to check off her points. Her precision marks were a little too perfect, holding her interest a little too much. “Your therapist in North Carolina gave me your records. You’ve come an incredibly long way, but today I’d like to see what’s happening for myself...”
Luke didn’t want to think about any of it—so he distracted himself with the fall of soft yellow scrubs that skimmed her curves. If she knew what he was thinking right now, she’d probably give him an exaggerated frown and tell him that activity wasn’t on his approved list.
Maybe he’d have to prove her wrong.
“Okay, Luke?”
“Yep,” he automatically answered.
“You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Nope.”
The look on her face implied he’d been naughty, but it was her big sigh, the one that lifted her nicely rounded breasts, that drew his attention. Not the sigh, just the— Boy, he was in so much trouble.
“I guess I’ll explain as we go along,” she said, ignoring his distraction. She rose to her feet and turned to open the door. “Let’s see what you’re capable of...”
That didn’t sound good, and his previous experience with physical therapy told Luke it wouldn’t be. She started him on a slow walk around the room, moving alongside him. Her soothing voice washed over him, almost relaxing despite the awkward coordination of his uncooperative legs and the cane.
Except he knew what was coming.
The upper body work wasn’t an issue. Moving and challenging those muscles actually felt good. His hips and legs—not so much. Avery put him through some resistance training, range-of-motion work and stretching. An hour later, drenched in sweat, he had to wonder if a sadistic grin lurked behind her ardent expression. Her encouraging words said she wanted to help, but was she secretly satisfied by his pain?
After all, he’d humiliated her in high school. That he’d done it for her own good didn’t seem like adequate justification now that he was an adult. But maybe he could make it up to her somehow?
Or would spending time with Avery outside of his therapy be the equivalent of playing with fire?
