Page 37 of Serve ’N’ Protect

Cassidy stood in her bedroom, staring at herself in the full-length mirror. Her chest tightened, and a serious case of what-did-I-get-myself-into slithered up her spine. Aside from her doctors and her worthless physical therapist, no one had seen her legs since the accident. They were so horrendous-looking, she’d been too self-conscious and ashamed to let her family see them.

How would Markus’s hands feel on her bare legs, massaging her muscles, and—

She shook her head to clear it of the very vivid, very unwanted direction her thoughts were taking her.

Markus was a handsome man. His physical assets had been obvious that first day when she’d peeled him off the floor, but there was so much more to him than the outwardly hardcore, albeit gorgeous, facade. For such a big, tough guy, he had the heart of a gentle giant, something that would, in all likelihood, shock him if she ever said those words out loud. Until last night, they would have shocked her, too.

When he’d held her as she’d cried her heart out, she hadn’t really thought of him as being gentle, let alone tender and sensitive to her needs. Now that he’d be touching her bare skin, it was impossible not to. As a trained military fitness guru, he’d no doubt view her injuries professionally, methodically. But still… The reflection staring back at her from the mirror wasn’t pretty.

The sad little sigh that escaped her lips made her feel utterly pathetic. Where once she’d had firm muscle tone was now the athletic equivalent of limp noodles. Multiple surgeries had left her skin puckered and crisscrossed with Frankenstein-esque scars. Not even an unlimited lifetime supply of scar cream would make them disappear. They would always be there, a grotesque reminder of what had happened that night. Would any man really want her again?

If they could get past her severe limp on the first date, perhaps there’d be a second, and with any luck, a third. Eventually, there’d be intimacy. But one look at her legs, and they’d run for the hills.

Another sigh, this one louder. The answer to her question about whether any man would ever want her again? Nope.

Numbly, she limped to the dresser and dug into the back of the drawer crammed with workout clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in over a year. With shaky fingers, she pulled out sweatpants, a soft, worn old blue T-shirt from the last 10K she’d run a lifetime ago, and a pair of snug purple cycling shorts.

She stared at the shorts as if they were her mortal enemy. Only yesterday she’d been lit by determination to walk without a cane and get back to her old self. Now that the moment had come, she was scared to death and thoroughly annoyed with her sudden case of chickenshit-ness.

Grow a set of lady balls and quit whining. Do this for yourself. Because the rest of my life will, most likely, consist only of me, myself, and I.

With more force than necessary, she slammed the drawer closed. Markus wanted to help her, and she’d be stupid to turn down free PT advice.

She tossed the clothes and her cane on the bed then sat and began undressing. Odd, how it took a total stranger to push her into doing things she should have done months ago but couldn’t, not even with her family’s help. Markus had been there for her yesterday, helping to seal an open wound with Hugh that had never closed. Now it was, permanently, and Hugh was finally part of her past. Hating him for what he’d done wasn’t in her nature.

There’d been a time, mere months ago, when she would have flown straight back into his arms if he’d shown up on her doorstep. Now, she couldn’t imagine taking him back. The life ahead of her was daunting and fraught with unknown paths, but they were paths forward, not back, which was a good thing no matter which direction she chose.

With heartfelt conviction, she finished dressing then went downstairs and grabbed her medical file. Before heading out the door, she called Teedle Tech’s main number and asked for Walt Teedle himself. A moment later, they were connected.

“Cassidy, how are you?” Walt asked cheerfully. “I hope you’re calling to tell me my audit is done.”

“Uh, no,” she admitted, grimacing even though it wasn’t her fault. “I’m still waiting on those receipts and invoices I requested two weeks ago. I left a detailed message with your office.”

“I apologize,” Walt said, then paused. “We’re in the process of switching to a new storage unit and some of the boxes were misplaced. Can’t you finish the audit without them and just use the annual income statements I sent you earlier by email? I’m kind of in a hurry to get this done. In fact, if you can make the Christmas deadline, I’ll throw in a twenty percent bonus.”

Cassidy nearly choked. Rather than charge Teedle an hourly rate, as was typical for most accounting firms, she’d gone with a lump sum fee. Twenty percent on top of that was not unsubstantial. With all that extra cash she could do beaucoup repairs on her house.

She sighed. Without those documents, Teedle’s numbers still wouldn’t add up. As much as she wanted that bonus, she couldn’t just make stuff up. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can finish without them. I still need to see the receipts and invoices that support what’s in your annual income statements. Is there a possibility you have computer backups for those documents?” What she wasn’t saying was that everyone backed everything on computers these days. Even she did.

“Probably,” he answered after a long moment. “I’ll light a fire under my assistant and get them to you ASAP.”

“Thank you. And Walt,” she added quickly before he had a chance to hang up. “Thank you for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re quite welcome, Cassidy. Happy Holidays.”

After ending the call, she stared at the phone wondering why his assistant had dropped the ball. She’d sounded so darned efficient over the phone. At least Walt seemed to understand that none of this was Cassidy’s fault.

A moment later, she was out the door.

When Markus didn’t answer her knock, she used her key and went inside. Hopefully, since he knew she was coming back, he wouldn’t whip out his big, bad pistol again. “Markus?” The door to the basement was open. Scampering came from the basement stairs and a moment later Ghost’s head appeared as he greeted her, his thick white tail wagging.

“Hi, boy.” He pranced around her legs until she gave his ears a quick scratch. Unlike his partner, Ghost had no problem expressing himself.

“Down here,” Markus called.

With Ghost leading the way, she clumped down the stairs to find the room warm and toasty. Markus pulled a folded towel from a metal bin. When he faced her, every bead of saliva in her mouth dried up.

A snug black T-shirt covered his torso, outlining every cut muscle, and there were a lot of them. Black sweats covered his legs but there was no concealing the strength of his thighs or the power in his body as he walked toward her like a jungle cat slinking through the forest. If this was what the man looked like when he wasn’t working out, she could only imagine his body when he was.