Chapter Four
Gerard broke the kiss and flinched as Clarice slid onto his lap. “My knee.”
“Oops, sorry,” she crooned in a singsong voice and then bit her lip. “I keep forgetting.”
“Yeah.” Her hand swept over his bare shoulders, and he tried not to cringe as he shoved them away and gently but firmly pushed her hips off his lap. He sat back and held his thigh while he straightened his leg. “You need to be careful. This is my life on the line. It’s not a serious injury, but it could become one.”
“I know. I’m sorry, sweetie. When’s your physical therapist arriving?”
Geared scratched the side of his jaw. The four days’ worth of beard growth was a novel feeling, and it was making him uncomfortable. He licked his lips, lowering his gaze as anxiety spiraled through him.
“Soon.”
He left out the details. He didn’t want to discuss it with Clarice. She was nice. She was a promising athlete. But she was so dumb he didn’t have the patience to repeat everything he said three times. Besides, he was pretty sure she would throw a tantrum when she found out the physical therapist was a she not a he.
Clarice jumped off the couch and jutted her hips out as she leaned over to inspect his vast collection of games. “What is that?”
“It’s a controller.”
She looked at him as if he had cured cancer. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He simply rolled his eyes as the twenty-year-old girl he’d met at a party three days ago strutted along with an abnormally arched back to jut her breasts out. She always walked like that. It was disconcerting to watch and looked painfully uncomfortable. She shuffled through CDs and headphones and games, in the room that was a shrine to every latest piece of technology. He breathed a sigh of relief when she headed to the open bar at the end of the room. Now, drinking was safe. At least she wouldn’t ask him questions every second at the bar.
“Who’s this?”
Gerard clenched his eyes shut. He’d just jinxed his luck. Bored, and trying to figure out a way to get rid of her, he looked up and froze. Then he hopped off the couch as if his knee wasn’t injured and his bread and butter didn’t depend on it at all. He snatched the photograph out of Clarice’s hand.
“The housekeeper probably left it out here,” he lied swiftly.
“Is it your childhood picture?” She grinned, crooning in that raspy childlike voice of hers. “You’re so cute, although your complexion was a little darker when you were little. Don’t you think?”
He yanked open a kitchen drawer and dropped the picture inside. Pausing, he tried not to ogle the picture, but he did. His eyes darted over the boy’s face that was exactly like his. His hair had the same natural blond highlights as his did. His eyes were the same blue, his eyebrows the exact replica of his, only finer. He slammed the drawer shut. He still wasn’t sure if he was making a mistake in letting the boy come and live with him.
Up until six months ago, he hadn’t even known Trent existed. Even though he’d known she was pregnant by him when he left for Seattle, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the kid Hartford gave birth to was his. He didn’t look anything like his mother, and everything like him.
When his parents had announced they were moving to Maryland for a few years, just for a change of scenery, he hadn’t missed a beat. They were free spirits, and it was typical of them to do irrational things, taking sudden trips to places all around the world to keep their lives interesting. But when they’d visited Gerard one day in Seattle and refused to stay for longer even when he persistently asked, they’d finally let the beans spill. Without Gerard’s knowledge, his parents had been taking care of his son for the last six months, and they couldn’t stay away from Maryland for longer than a day, because Hartford counted on them for childcare.
He hadn’t uttered a word when they handed him the picture and left in a hurry to get back to their grandson.
Gerard spent several days in a daze, the boy’s picture in his hand most of the time. After he’d recovered from the shock somewhat, he’d called his parents to ask if he could meet Trent.
“You can’t,” they’d argued. “We hadn’t even asked Hartford before telling you. She didn’t want you to know about the child, and we told you anyway. She was fine with it, but we can’t ask her to let you in now. We just can’t.”
Feeling desperate to meet the kid once, yet unsure what it would accomplish, he’d called his lawyer and arranged to have a child support check delivered to Hartford on the first of every month. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his parents but wasn’t surprised when they brought it up themselves. Quite clearly, Hartford had won over their hearts, and their loyalties seemed to lie with her more than they did with their own son.
“It is the right thing to do,” Gerard’s mother had said over the phone. “Hartford mentioned it in passing. And it was sweet of her not to reject it. She doesn’t need the money, but she’s letting you atone.”
Atone? He’d been outraged but hadn’t said a word. Atone for what? I was the one who was betrayed. She was the one who left me behind and moved on with her life. He said none of those things, though, and put everything in the past. The check was delivered to her automatically, and he never had to hear of it again.
Gerard remembered the last time he’d seen the stunning, ebony-skinned girl. It had been at the airport, a smile on her face and a storm in her eyes. He’d assumed it was because he was leaving, but she’d had a more vicious plan at the time. She’d let him believe she’d aborted the baby, and when he called her right after he landed in Seattle, she refused to take his call. He’d spent a good three weeks calling her incessantly, before she changed her number. When he called their mutual friends, desperate to talk to her and missing her so much it ached, they’d told her they couldn’t do anything. Hartford had moved on, and she’d left for Maryland.
She’d not only dumped him by ghosting him, she’d gone on to have the child, then enlisted his parents’ support to take care of the child. Now, fate had brought him the chance to see her again.
When her name came up during the meeting with Seahawks management, he assumed Hartford didn’t know that it was him she’d be staying with. After all, he’d wanted confidentiality. When she stipulated she wanted to bring the kid along, management refused but Gerard said yes without thinking.
Why he did was still a mystery to him. He didn’t feel anything. No affection, no guilt. Nothing. Hartford had been the one who’d cut him out of her life. He simply felt numb. But he’d also assumed she would see his name and opt out. She hadn’t.
Why she did was also a mystery to him.
“Right now…” He turned to see Clarice chugging juice straight from his bottle out of the refrigerator in the bar. He cringed. He hated that. He simply hated that. That was the last nail in the coffin. He turned around and walked back to the couch with a slight limp, intending to keep his weight off his bad knee. “Clarice?
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think we can continue seeing each other.” He spent the next ten minutes trying to make an excuse and explain why he thought that particular way. The pressure of Hartford’s impending arrival was making him lose his mind. All over a bottle of juice, he wanted her out of his house. He couldn’t deal with her, and he didn’t want her around when Hartford arrived.
***
Hartford stepped out of the back of the SUV and then turned to help her son get out. The driver walked straight to the front door and swung it open.
Hartford’s hands shook; she wanted to do anything but go in there. But she forced herself to step forward, just one more step, one more… Anytime now, she’d come face-to-face with Gerard.
She sucked in a deep breath as she saw him. Her stomach overcome with butterflies on Ecstasy, she fisted her hands as a cascade of emotions spilled over her.
A few days’ worth of beard growth on his face, he looked scary and striking. She wasn’t surprised by the physical changes in him. He looked angry, almost confused. The angled planes of his jaw were ridiculously virile. He graced the covers of magazines and was constantly in the news, so she’d assumed she was prepared for his matured good looks. She had been fooling herself.
Gerard walked toward them, his left arm clutching a crutch. He stopped three feet away from them, and Hartford jumped as the driver closed the front door behind them. She just stood there, stiff, wordless, while Gerard swallowed visibly and his eyes dropped to Trent—only briefly. Her heart clenched painfully tight. It was almost as if he was looking at something that had nothing to do with him. Jealousy and rage exploded in her chest, but she quickly fought it. This was not the time to do this. She regretted coming there already, but it was for Trent. No one else.
She noticed his stubble. It was thicker than she remembered. His shoulders were wider—she’d hadn’t even thought that was possible. For some incomprehensible reason, he looked taller, but she was sure that was just her imagination. He was also barefoot, and she recalled seeing every inch of his body years ago. She’d taken everything for granted, all of him, and then he’d had more important things to do with his life than be there for her. His hair was slightly longer too. He was way sexier than she remembered. She shoved the thought away.
“Hi, Gerard.”
He swallowed visibly. “Hey, Hart.” He looked away instantly and sighed. “Hartford,” he corrected. They were barely on a first-name basis now, let alone nickname basis. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m all right, thanks.” Silence. Awkward. So fucking awkward. The man had taken her virginity; the man had woken up drooling on her pillow once. Why was it so awkward?
“Please, come on in,” he said politely Dispassionately. He avoided looking at her.
Hartford wondered why he looked a little dazed, and why he kept looking at the ground as if he wanted to deny they were there. She almost felt like he hadn’t known it would be them showing up at the door, but of course he had. He’d signed the contract too. He’d sent his driver to pick them up when she’d been perfectly ready to just take a cab to his place. And he had made more effort than he should have.
Gerard stepped forward and finally let his eyes halt on Trent’s face. He was looking up at him, confused, a little red car in his fist. Hartford’s breath caught as Gerard slowly leaned down onto his good knee. His hands clutched the tiny pair of shoulders.
“Hey, there, little guy.”
Hartford’s heart hammered, and a knot formed in her chest, full of emotion, panic, and fear—and something else. She didn’t know. Lately, she had no idea why she felt nothing rational and understandable.
“Hi.” Trent glanced at her, then back at the man he didn’t know was his father.
Gerard grinned, and the sight plucked at Hartford’s heart in a good way, before she made it halt. It was as if Gerard had forgotten everything when he heard his little voice.
“Do you play football?” he asked suddenly, and Trent shook his head. “Oh. Good.”
He peeked at Hartford, and Hartford resisted the urge to grab her child and run. Maybe he saw it in her eyes, because he drew in a sharp breath and shifted to get up.
“Do you play football?” Trent’s question made Gerard pause in the act of getting up.
“Yeah. I play a lot of football.” But he was already trying to put an emotional distance between the two of them. It was clear that this was not working out for him, and Hartford didn’t know if she felt angry or relieved.
“Is that how you got hurt?”
“Umm…”
Hartford snapped out of her reverie. Trent was incredibly curious about Gerard, and she didn’t blame him. He was only three. He was already ecstatic that he was getting to travel with his mother. Affectionately, Gerard slid a hand over Trent’s little head.
“Maybe we can talk later.” She smiled at her son.
Gerard got the hint, meeting her eye. She didn’t want him conversing with her son.
Looking confused and dazed as if he’d been through a battle, he stood up and walked sideways. “Let’s show you around.”
Hartford tried to distract herself by looking around. No doubt, Gerard’s house was warm and inviting—unlike its owner. They’d walked through a foyer and entered what she assumed was a living room. With upholstery in shades of beige and turquoise, the room looked bright and cheerful. The back wall was entirely glass and led to a swimming pool that was glistening blue.
“Mrs. Berry?” Gerard called, and a middle-aged woman in black slacks and a white blouse, looking extremely graceful, walked in.
He introduced his housekeeper to Hartford, while her mind once again wandered back to the sight of Gerard smiling at Trent as if he were made of magic. It had only lasted a few seconds, but she had to admit it was painful and euphoric at the same time. She was also glad that Gerard was astute enough to know she didn’t want him conversing with Trent too much.
Gerard excused himself. “I’ll be in the back. Please get comfortable, and Mrs. Berry will show you to your rooms.”
***
Gerard sat on a pool chair, checking the tens of messages his parents were sending him. He turned his gaze to the water of the pool, not really seeing anything but the face of the boy that was his son.
The resemblance was uncanny. It was a joke from God. The same hair, the same brows, the same square chin. He fought the urge to laugh out loud. Meeting him had left him exhausted and anxious and giddy at the same time. He was not used to feeling that flow of emotion.
Then his mind wandered to Hartford. She’d been wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose-fitting green top that was tucked in. Simple yet sophisticated—totally her.
How did she look so different? He would’ve thought she couldn’t get any prettier. Her facial features were more defined, her green eyes looked bigger, her skin glowed, and her hair was longer, lying in waves over her full breasts. Her waist was tinier, her hips fuller, her breasts riper. He jerked his head to clear it as his body hardened in desire for her.
He wished he could avoid seeing her walking around his house. She was a mistake on legs, waiting to happen. He had had her, but that had been a different Hartford. It hadn’t been this sports physical therapist, cited as one of the best. It hadn’t been this mother of one, who looked regal and, quite frankly, totally out of his league as she strolled into his house.
His reverie was interrupted by his cell phone ringing shrilly in his hand.
“Hey, Dad.”
“It’s Mom. Did you meet Trent?”
Gerard rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I did.”
“So, how’d it go?”
Gerard grimaced. He was losing his patience. He was mentally and emotionally drained. “What do you mean by ‘how’d it go?’ The kid came in with his mother. I said hi, and asked Mrs. Berry to show them to their rooms in the left wing of the house. What did you expect, Mom? That I gave him a piggyback ride and my favorite watch?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Gerard flinched. He was taking his frustrations out on his parents. It wasn’t their fault Hartford had coldheartedly dumped him and refused to let him know he had a son. Maybe, if he’d known, he could’ve found a way to be in the child’s life.
But he knew that was highly unlikely. He’d had plans, and having a baby was not part of them.
“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just… you’re not making this ordeal any easier by asking me these questions via text and calls. Whatever hopes you have of me building something with the kid are totally ridiculous. I don’t even know him, and now that I think of it, I never even knew his mother. So this discussion is moot. Just try not to ask me such questions. She’s a physical therapist, and she’s going to heal my injury so I can play again and be all set for the season. And the physical therapist…” he repeated pointedly, “brought along her child. That’s it. It has nothing to do with me.”
***
Gerard was still sitting by the pool when Hartford found him. He turned toward her when he heard her footsteps.
Hartford’s heart leapt to her throat. His eyes glinted in the sun, turning almost transparent. It was as if she’d been transported back in time. His eyes always looked like that while he was on the field. She wondered why she hadn’t been this mesmerized with his eyes back when they were in a relationship. She’d taken him for granted. He had been hers, and she’d assumed he’d stay hers. She’d believed there was nothing that could come between them or wrench them apart.
But then… Trent had happened. And she’d found out how self-centered Gerard was.
“I need to do some baseline tests before we get started.”
Gerard stared at her silently for a moment, lost, as if wondering how they ended up there, strangers, completely detached and unfeeling. The last time he’d been this close to her, she’d been hugging him and he’d been holding her and telling her he loved her. How did something so deep and profound simply dissipate into thin air?
“Sure.”
Hartford got to work. She pulled up the sleeves of her green blouse and dragged a stool closer to his pool chair. Taking a deep breath, her hands shaking, she avoided his gaze and folded the hem of his gray trousers up higher.
One fold. Two. Three. It was too narrow to fold up higher and reveal his knee. She looked up at him, and he looked at her face at the same time.
“Maybe I should…”
He seemed to freeze in place, as if trying to figure out what to do to fix the minor issue of his trousers not allowing her to see his knee. Her fingers on his calf as it exuded a heat that penetrated the gloves she wore, she waited for him to say something more. That’s when he seemed to give up on an internal battle and shot upright.
Too abruptly, he stood up and undid the string on the waistband of his trousers and dropped them to the floor.
Hartford drew back in shock at his swift, brazen act, but stopped before her bewilderment became obvious. Her eyes glued to his bare thighs, she tried to avoid looking any higher. But she hadn’t really known the true power of her peripheral vision. His white boxers were a little snug, the shape trapped inside discernable, and as he sat back down again, it only got worse.
Her fingers fumbled with the tube of medicine and bandage. She was glad for the gloves she wore. At least they prevented her from touching his skin. “Straighten your leg, please.”
Her voice was vibrating, and her legs were turning to jelly. How had she ended up being a foot from his crotch with his trousers laying on the floor in a heap?
“Where’s your bedroom?” she asked casually and gaped at a spot on the floor at what she’d just said and what it sounded like. She looked up and tried not to look guilty. “Umm. I’m only asking because I noticed there’s quite a few stairs up to the rooms I’m staying in, and I don’t think you should be climbing them.”
He nodded, his features stiff. “I moved downstairs temporarily. I haven’t climbed those stairs since the injury.”
Hartford nodded. Phew. Her heart was still racing, and her ears steamed from the embarrassment lingering in her bloodstream. When he groaned, Hartford pulled her hands away from his knee and looked up. “What?”
His eyes shot open. “What?”
Her eyes narrowed at his expression. His neck was visibly taut, and her eyes narrowed at him questioningly. “Are you in pain?”
Gerard cleared his throat and rubbed his bicep. “No, not really.”
But that neither looked like the truth nor sounded like it. He looked like he was in agony.
“Can you give me a moment?”
Hartford drew back, her gelled hands lifted. “Sure.”
Gerard strode along the wooden deck and through the glass doors leading into the house. She tried not to think of the way he’d semi-undressed in front of her. Had he done that to arouse her on purpose? It’s not his fault he still turns you on like this after all he’s done, her angry subconscious responded.
Her gaze snapped up, and she took deep breaths as he walked back out. Clearly, he had also been uncomfortable with the snug-boxer situation. Because now, he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting shorts over them.
She was still sitting in the same spot, her hands in the air to keep her gloves clean. He sat across her again, a large exhale signaling his relief.
Hartford eyed his shorts, then couldn’t help but steal a glance at his face. Laughter bubbled inside of her at the ridiculously awkward situation. She fought the mirth from bursting past her lips and pursed them, recalling other times he had been a completely hilarious freak with her around. But things had changed, and she was expected to be professional.
The old Hartford wouldn’t have let him live it down. She’d joked for years about him passing out from pleasure while she sucked his manhood. And she would’ve still been doing the same if the circumstances hadn’t changed so dramatically—if they weren’t utter strangers now.
She cleared her throat to urge her mind to get serious. But the laughter was still fighting to escape her lips. “So, how’s the pain now on a scale of one to ten? Ten’s the highest.”
“Umm… four.”
She looked up at his face, the ultimate professional. “When I saw you using your crutch, I assumed it had gotten worse. You rated your pain at eight a week ago when I checked your file.”
“It’s better now. I was using the crutches because I just want to recover faster.”
“That’s good. We’ll start regular physiotherapy to make sure your joint stays nice and strong.” He smiled in answer and it was contagious. “What?” she said with a smile, telling herself it didn’t hurt to be cordial with her patient. She just needed to let go of the past and get on with the job.
“Just nice to see you as Dr. Roberts.”
She nodded. “You’ve always been a star, though, so I can’t say I see you any differently.”
“I’m not a star, and I never was.”
She stood up and smiled. He’d always been humble about his talent and underestimated his abilities.
It was obvious that simply letting the past stay in the past was anything but simple. “You shouldn’t deny it. You’ve earned the star status.” She glanced around. “Everything you have is because you worked hard to be where you are. Don’t downplay your success. You’re an awesome football player. You are a star.”
He looked gobsmacked, and she knew why he was. They’d had similar discussions in the past, and the speech had taken her back in time too. She walked away. Gerard always said she was capable of making his self-esteem multiply tenfold. She always bucked him up before a match, before an exam, before an interview. She’d been his pillar until he’d decided he didn’t need her anymore.
***
Gerard could still feel the stirring in his balls. His erection had subsided, thanks to the distraction technique he’d come up with in a panic. While Hartford touched his leg, he’d been thinking about the new alloy rims he’d ordered for his sports car.
Gerard clenched his eyes shut as he tried to recover from the embarrassment. He’d made an utter and complete fool of himself, and he was still reeling from what he’d done. He cursed himself for being such a monumental idiot. Why had he thought dropping his trousers before her was a good idea? The truth was, he’d been flustered and had grown hot with want when her fingers stroked the tendons along his knee, behind it, up the back of his thigh. He wasn’t a child. He knew it was a professional situation. There was nothing sexual in the touch, but goddammit, he couldn’t breathe!
His boxers had barely concealed the bulge in his boxers, and he’d even resorted to praying that he wouldn’t get a boner. But the more he obsessed about it, the more it grew. Finally he distracted himself thinking about his housekeeper, then a new German shepherd he’d set his sight on to purchase. When his mind had still returned to Hartford and her touch stubbornly, and started recalling the way her naked body had felt in his arms when she was younger, her breasts less full, her face less stunning, he’d clenched his eyes shut and groaned aloud unknowingly in frustration.
He’d thought it would be a good tactic to let her know he was completely comfortable with her touching his leg, and he’d overdone it. It backfired miserably.
He’d been blushing too. What the fuck? He cursed himself. No one could reduce him to feeling so pathetic. Except Hartford, of course.
Back when they’d been together and seemingly inseparable, Hartford had been the single most influential person in his life. And he was still trying to figure what it was that went wrong.
His clenched his jaws and stared at his bare feet on the tiled floor around the pool as he pictured a life with her. What would it have been like to have her around in this new life he’d made for himself? Coming home to her, flaunting off the stunning woman as his girlfriend. His insides turned giddy with pleasure, but the reality of the moment abruptly disintegrated his fantasy.
It couldn’t have worked out even if they had tried. She was set to become a doctor. He was set to be a football player. They just weren’t meant to stay together.
That’s what had happened to them. Life had happened to them. The ambitions they’d supported and groomed in one another had been exactly the thing that had wrenched them apart. It was meant to be.
His jobless mind desperate to find something to stay preoccupied, it wandered back to the way her fingers had slid over his flesh. Even though her gloves had been a barrier to the touch, it hadn’t mattered to his body, which had surged in response.
He’d made several observations while she’d checked his injury. Hartford wore a lot less makeup than she did when they were in college. And she only ended up looking dewy and fresh and regal. The amount of class in that one woman was enough to rival the class in all his girlfriends during the past four years bundled together. He felt like a perverted freak for lusting after her. He wished she hadn’t worn gloves to touch him. Not because he would get off having her fingers on his leg, but because for four years, he’d dreamed of the way her skin had gleamed and contrasted against his. It was a drug, and he knew he’d never see their fingers or legs entwined again.
“Sucks!” he said aloud as he got up and grabbed the crutch.
He made a mental note to avoid being alone with Hartford again. He was impulsive, and he couldn’t risk being impulsive around Hartford and her child. He grabbed his phone and made several phone calls. He’d remedy that part, starting right now.
***
Hartford tried to make herself at home. She didn’t have a choice, really. She had to cook for Trent, so she made her way into the kitchen and fixed him a sandwich. When the housekeeper, Mrs. Berry, spotted her, the poor woman was so upset she almost had a heart attack. Apologizing profusely, she took over the task of carrying the food to Trent.
Hartford felt overwhelmed, but she was coerced into explaining what Trent liked to eat, and she was told something fresh would be prepared for Trent every day. Grateful for the help as Mrs. Berry offered to watch Trent while he ate, Hartford went out looking for Gerard. It was her job to keep an eye on him and to suggest changes in his lifestyle that would expedite his recovery and support his fitness.
Several loud male voices from the right wing of the house made her follow the sound in curiosity. Reminding herself that keeping an eye on Gerard was definitely part of her job description, she peeked inside the room to see five large men lounging in front of the TV, beers in their hands.
Hartford stayed out of sight. Great, Gerard had friends over. She turned away, not wanting to intrude on Gerard’s personal space. She found Trent where she’d left him and read him a book after he finished eating. Then, euphoric at being able to hold his little hand while she worked, just like she’d hoped, she took his hand to go check on Gerard again.
It was all a little foolish. A grown-ass man, a professional football player, spending time with his friends had to supervised by her, but it was all in her contract. She wondered if Gerard’s team’s managers had more to do with her selection and contract stipulations than he had. To be fair, Gerard had looked a little baffled when she arrived at his doorstep with Trent in tow.
She was watching Gerard from her vantage point through the door and noticed that he didn’t communicate with his friends. At all. He simply sipped his beer and stared at a spot that was next to the TV. Her brows furrowed. What was that all about?
She gasped as Trent pulled free of her hold and ran through the living room, out the door to the pool.
“No, no, no. Trent, stop.”
She hurried after him and caught him by the arm, her heart beating fast as she lowered herself to his level. “You can’t be out here by yourself, Trent.” The pool was dangerous and looked like a monster next to her little son. She’d have to leave Trent locked inside the bedroom with this level of paranoia.
She paused when Trent’s eyes turned to something over her shoulder. She followed his gaze and stood up abruptly. Gerard was watching her oddly, and he looked exhausted.
“Hey…”
He glanced at Trent again, very briefly, as if willing him to disappear.
“How are you settling in? Did you have lunch?”
“Yeah.” Hartford tried to ignore the realization that she didn’t like it when Gerard talked to Trent, and didn’t like it when he barely looked at Trent. She was being incredibly difficult to please. “Thanks. Mrs. Berry is very helpful.”
“Feel free to use whatever you want in the house. The pool. Anything.” He eyed the way she was clutching Trent’s wrist in viselike grip as the boy tried to escape to the pool again. His gaze darted over her face to Trent’s face, where it lingered and then snapped to the pool. “I’ll see you in the evening for our physio thing?”
She nodded. “At six.”
At six, the group of large man-boys was still laughing raucously in the east-wing room as they watched a game. Hartford all but bit her lower lip off in frustration. She knew the kind of guys they were. Gerard had had a group of those buffoons tied to him in high school, and she’d had to cut off the umbilical cord on them. They were rowdy good-for-nothings who had no work to do and spent insane amounts of time with Gerard because Gerard was a generous friend and a great companion. They only wasted his time and did little else to contribute to his life.
At seven p.m., she put Trent to bed and stalked downstairs to stand in the doorway of the room that was decorated like a cave—a literal cave, but the walls were full shelving to accommodate Gerard’s vast collection of gadgets and man-toys.
“Gerard?”
Gerard still wasn’t even talking to his friends, a beer in his hand and a pizza box lying in the middle of the coffee table as the rest of the rowdies talked.
“Yeah?” He sat up straighter.
Hartford didn’t say a word. She just stared at him. Gerard’s smile vanished and he placed his beer down. The chatting ceased around the room as Gerard followed her out of the room.
“Everything okay?”
She had to tilt her head back to meet his eye. “We had a physio session at six. It’s seven thirty.”
“Oh, yeah.” He seemed flustered.
She knew she didn’t have any right to be so reproving of his carelessness in the role of being his doctor, but that professionalism got a little hazy when she laid eyes on him.
“I forgot. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Well, it is.”
Gerard registered the unexpected hush that still prevailed in the room behind him. “We can do the physio thing in the morning.”
Hartford lifted her brows, and she uncrossed her arms. She had more things to argue over. For one, he had gotten no form of exercise for the last seven hours. Plus, he shouldn’t have been eating that greasy, cholesterol-laden pizza, but she didn’t say it.
For some reason, she found herself glaring back at him, engaging in a battle of wills. Forcing herself to quit the silent battle when she recalled why she was in his house in the first place, she looked away.
“Sure. I’m going to bed,” she snapped almost coldly as she turned toward the stairs that led up to the west wing of the house.
Sliding into bed, she glanced toward the door that led to the adjoining room where Trent was asleep. She was still reeling from the fact that she was in that house, with Gerard a few feet away. This was the only chance Trent would have in all his life to have both his parents in the same room as him. She didn’t feel bad. She didn’t need Gerard in her life.
Seeing how he lived his life, just for one day, had been enough to remind her of how irresponsible Gerard could be. He was an intimidating man. He exuded power and strength and needed no one. And he could survive on his own, just like she could survive on her own. They didn’t have to be together. It was just as well that she’d been smart enough to see the real him and given up on him in time.