Perfectly Ms. Matched(16)
“Heather’s an adult and can make her own food choices.”
An adult? Just barely, but Jo kept her comment to herself.
Ryan crossed his little arms. “Mom is an adult, and she eats cereal sometimes.”
Chad reemerged clad in just a pair of gym shorts as he ran a small towel through his wet hair. “In my house, it’s my rules. All that sugar is bad for you, Ryan. Kids need good food to grow up healthy. But if you want to stay small and scrawny your whole life, then don’t eat.”
“Okay, I won’t eat, then.”
She couldn’t bear the thought of Ryan going hungry. Maybe she’d offer to make Ryan something later that they could both agree on.
Chad finally pulled a T-shirt over his defined chest and six-pack abs—thank God—then sent her a smile. “Sorry. Let’s get started.”
He grabbed her bag before she could protest and led the way to the gym. His limp hadn’t improved much. She had her work cut out for her.
Ryan silently followed behind, sulking.
“One thing before we begin.” Chad motioned for her to go ahead of him into a small office just inside the door of his gym. Chad’s gym rivaled the ones in the facility where she used to work. He hadn’t skimped on a thing. It’d make things easier.
He handed her some papers. “If you could just sign this confidentiality agreement, we can get going.”
Jo quickly scanned the pages. “You’re worried about me talking to the press? Why would I do that?”
He handed her a pen. “People get mad enough, they tend to want to get even. And I don’t want anyone to know how badly I’m hurt. I need my coaches to think I’m coming back by the end of the season.”
“I can’t guarantee that’ll happen. I can only do the best I can.” She read through the whole agreement. “This says no video, but I want to shoot some with my phone to monitor your progress.”
“Fine. But no one but you and I see it. Understood?” He crossed out that line and initialed it.
“Of course.” She leaned down and signed the paper in all the places he pointed.
“And I will get back out there. It’ll happen. It has to.” He accepted the pages from her, tossing them back onto the desk. “But I plan to stay out of the paparazzi’s sights for a few weeks. Please don’t talk to anyone about my progress.”
“I won’t.” She was still slightly offended that he’d just asked her to sign that, but she shook it off. “I want to have a look at your knee before we start. Have a seat on that bench.”
After Chad flopped onto a weight bench, Ryan slipped against a mirrored wall a few feet away and started in on his game again.
She ran her hands over Chad’s knee, checking the swelling. “How’s the pain level when just sitting?”
He shrugged. “Not bad.”
“So that’s why you were grimacing in the hot tub?”
“Okay. It still aches pretty good. But I don’t want to take drugs, so I’m dealing with it.”
She placed her hand on the top of his ankle. “Press against my resistance.” As he pushed, she said, “You have to be honest with me the first time I ask a question or it’ll just slow your progress. We don’t want to do too much too soon. Press again, but harder.”
He gritted his teeth and pushed. “That’s all I got.”
Not good. “Okay. Let’s start building up the muscles around your knee.” They moved to a machine, and she got him started. While he worked his leg, she couldn’t help herself. “So, Heather seems . . . young.”
He nodded as he strained against the machine. “Yeah. I thought the younger the better, you know?”
“Well, of course. Wouldn’t want someone with too much life experience. Then maybe you’d have to have actual conversations about things that matter.”
Chad stopped pressing and looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “We don’t talk all that much.”
Heather was just for sex? Nice. “Fifteen more and then we’ll add a little weight.”
After they’d talked about a training plan for the week, Jo left Chad on a machine and sat next to Ryan. She’d prefer the kid’s company to that of the lecher. “So, why don’t you like Chad?”
Ryan shrugged.
“Does he beat you? Because we could turn him in if he does.”
Ryan shook his head. “He doesn’t hit me.”
“Does he make you sleep in a little room under the stairs, like Harry Potter?”
Ryan smiled. “I don’t think there’s one of those here.” His brief smiled turned to a scowl. “But he won’t let me eat french fries or cereal or anything good like my mom did. He’s mean.”