Mr. Fiancé(140)

"Hmm, asshole football players. Never met one," Duncan jokes, and I teasingly slap him on his chest. "Ouch. Now, you have to be fully moved in before you can do whips and handcuffs, but spanking is okay already, got it?"

I laugh and pat him on the chest again. "Careful. I may have a side to me you haven't seen yet. But, as to Dad . . . long story short, one of the football jocks stole his girlfriend. Of course, he has a grudge against all football players. Perfect logic.”

"Ooh, ouch," Duncan hisses. “Sounds about right.”

"Well, that's half the reason he doesn't trust you. The other half has to do with his trucking."

Duncan sits up some, confused. “What do I have to do with trucking?”

“He’s an independent long hauler, doing cross-country runs about two to three times a month. This keeps him on the road a lot, but it wasn't always that way. When I was a little girl, he was part-owner of his own trucking company, Longstar Consolidated."

"What happened?" Duncan asks, and I shrug.

“He got bought out. Some bigshot came in when Dad was looking to expand the fleet and pushed him out the door. Now, it wasn't your Dad directly, but he was supposedly one of the investors."

Duncan thinks about it, then nods. “Well, this is going to be fun. Tell you what. How about I finish up these arm flexes I'm doing, and in the kitchen, there are two buckets under the sink. We can get some contrast baths going to help out . . . and then when I'm done with that, let's call them."

"Really?" I ask. I'm surprised. I didn't think he would want to jump into the fire that quickly.

Duncan nods. "Really. If we are going to be us, then I guess we need to get it over with sometime or another. As for my father, I don't give a damn if he ever meets you. For now, he's done with my life until he reaches out to me."



After the call, which had none of the rancor that I thought it would, Duncan sits back and smiles. "See, not so bad?"

I nod and give him a kiss. "Nope, I think the most difficult part of moving in with you is going to be the next part."

"Which is?"

"Stopping kissing you long enough to actually get some studying done. We've both got class tomorrow, remember?"

The next day, I go to the student union   during lunch, where I meet up with Coach Taylor. "Hey, Carrie. It's good to see you."

"Thanks, Coach. Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. I know you're busy."

He shakes his head and cracks open a can of coffee flavored pre-mixed protein shake, a disgusting concoction that only a guy like Coach could love. "No problem, Carrie. You're looking good. You keeping up with your work?"

I nod. "The regular gym sucks compared to what the weight room is like, but I can still get something done there. Like you say, if it has a barbell and a squat rack, you can get work done. I'll be truthful, though. I can't wait to get back down in the basement with everyone."

"Yeah, a lot of folks are telling me the same thing. Alicia is about ready to go to the Honor Board and beg them to hurry up. Since you've been suspended, she's rolled her ankles twice."

I sit back and shake my head, chuckling. "You and I both know that it's more due to bad luck than anything. Who was taping her up?"

"Freddie Maxwell. He knows what he's doing. In fact, I'm giving him a letter of recommendation when he graduates. But yeah, Alicia's about ready to kill him." Coach Taylor takes a long drink of his protein shake and grows serious. "By the way, Chelsea quit the program. Bunch of rumors swirling about that one."

"I bet. I can't say I'm upset about that, though. You know, since she lied about what I did . . . let's not go there though. I sent you an email because I'd like your advice."

"Advice is always free for you," Coach says. "At least, monetarily. What's up?"

"Well, let's say, hypothetically, of course, that someone wanted to do some home-based rehabilitation on an injured elbow."

Coach sees right through me. "Like, say, a biceps tendon that is seventy-five percent torn and a nearly fully-torn anterior band?"

"Something like that. Not quite a Tommy John surgery candidate, but certainly someone who needs to go under the knife."

"But who refuses to for another three weeks or so. Well tell me, Carrie. You're pretty smart. What would you have this person do?"

"Mostly range of motion work, lots of contrast treatment, and in their sport, limited contact along with a limited range of motion brace. Once the swelling goes down in the elbow, light work, mostly to retain as much of the overall body muscle as possible without stressing the injured joint."