Slow Burn (MM) (7 page)

“Oh, look at you. Up with people,” he taunted, then bit the inside of his mouth. He did not need to start that. Zack wasn’t someone he should joke around with and tease. Teasing and Zack brought on imagery of a whole different scenario.

Brody thought about his last crime scene. Anything to get rid of Zack’s image. Made it difficult when Zack ran right beside him and was now laughing.

“Man, screw you. Like you don’t live in the suburbs?”

“I live here, on the island. In a condo. Not the suburbs.”

“The whole island
is
the suburbs!” Zack chuckled. “But you live over here? Really?”

Brody nodded. Yes. He lived close. Close enough to have Zack over for a beer. Which wouldn’t happen.

“I love it here.” Zack kept chatting, and he was grateful for the chance to think of something else.

How was he ever going to be able to make this work? Zack was a great PT, and he had no doubt the guy could get him in the kind of shape that’d blow the physical assessment out of the water, but at what cost? Maybe if he just didn’t respond. He could let Zack ramble on but not contribute. Refuse to let the chitchat equal them getting to know each other and becoming buddies.

Ramble on Zack did. On and on. About how much he liked jogging, how well Brody was doing, how this was the perfect track for now and how they could ramp up to something that challenged him further. He went over his plan to basically make Brody the most athletic detective on the force. Then he started in on the Charleston weather, the beach.

“I know!” He got a little louder. “Next session, let’s hit the beach. The sand offers natural resistance…” He went silent as he seemed to think to himself.

Brody wondered what could possibly be going on in that busy brain, when Zack piped up again.

“It’ll be perfect. Lunges, even walking will use more muscle and effort. Perfect. Okay, so next time we’ll meet near the pier. I think we give it a couple of days’ recovery, be sure to stretch in between, and then we can meet at this same time on Thursday. Plenty of parking this early; we’ll jog on the beach and then go into resistance. Yeah, it will be awesome.”

His excitement was obvious, but Brody refused to let it be endearing. Zack’s dedication to his job, to getting Brody fully up to speed, meant a lot. He just couldn’t let it mean too much.

And it was more than a little funny that not once, in the last fifteen minutes, had Brody’s input been necessary in any way.

“Three miles, man,” Zack said, pointing to the marker as they rounded a turn and could see their cars in the distance. “Not too shabby for an invalid.” He used Brody’s words against him.

Brody flipped him the bird.

Zack’s response was to laugh. Of course.

Laugh at this, Brody thought, and bumped his speed up a notch. Invalid his ass. He was not going to be seen as such. Beside him, Zack matched the increase.

Brody smirked and ran a little faster. Without a word, Zack matched it and then some. He pulled ahead a few paces and Brody kicked it into fourth gear. By the time they reached the cars, they were running wide open, Zack and his long-ass legs beating him by about four feet.

“Sonuvabitch.” Brody panted as he jogged to a stop.

“Walk it,” Zack told him. “Don’t stop. Keep it moving.”

Thank God Zack was at least a little winded too; otherwise, Brody might punch him. They walked along the path, Zack with a smile like he’d just won a marathon, Brody wondering what had possessed him to show off. He’d pay for it tomorrow, while Zack wouldn’t feel a thing.

“Ballsy move trying to race me,” Zack said, still grinning. “Gotta hand it to you, but you’ve got a ways to go before you catch a college track star.” He thumbed his chest.

Brody made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Maybe in a few months, Detective.” He kept digging.

“Few months. Fuck that. I’m outrunning your ass before then. Somehow. I’ll just shoot you in the leg and jog on past if it comes to it.”

Zack’s laugh boomed around the park.

Brody shook his head but smiled at the sound anyway. Then the cramp hit him.

“Sonuvabitch,” he said again, but this time he ground it out between clenched teeth as pain clamped down on his thigh like a fucking Rottweiler.

“What?” Zack went on instant therapist red alert. “What happened? Where’s the pain?” His focus went right to Brody’s left knee.

That wasn’t the issue. It was his right thigh hurting like a motherfucker.

“Cramp,” Brody ground out, and couldn’t even make it to his car as he crumpled and leaned on Zack’s bumper. He jabbed a finger toward the offending leg.

“Gotcha.” Zack nodded. “Here, come over here. Easy. Easy.” He led Brody over to the still-damp grass. “Charlie horse. Probably from favoring the right leg to go easy on the left knee. You can’t do that.”

Brody gave him a death glare. “Thanks for clearing that up, Doc.”

“Lie down.” Zack knelt with Brody’s hand on his arm.

“Lie down?” The grass was cold and wet. Wet grass was not going to help his leg.

Again Zack seemed to read his mind. “You have to lie down to stretch it out properly. Grass that’s a little damp or the hard concrete. Your choice.”

Brody lowered himself down with a scowl.

“Good choice,” Zack said. “On your back.” He waited until Brody was situated, then took his right heel in one hand and pressed the palm of his other hand against the ball of the foot, the toes going skyward, then farther back.

“Ow! Sonuva
bitch
!” Brody shouted.

“Leave my momma out of this; she’s a good woman.” Zack grinned.

“Basta— Fucking sadist,” Brody tried.

“That’s more like it. Give it a minute.” He pressed back on the foot again. “It’ll release in a bit.”

Didn’t fucking feel like it. Brody dug his fingers into the grass and down into the dirt because he refused to whimper like a little girl. A second later he felt something let go inside his leg. The pain eased, but it didn’t disappear. His face must’ve shown relief, because Zack shifted and moved a hand to his calf.

“Better?” he asked.

Brody managed a nod.

“Keep the foot flexed and loosen the leg.” He tapped Brody on the thigh. “Loosen.”

Zack could be downright pushy when he went into health-care-professional mode. Brody wasn’t used to being told what to do. The small voice inside him that rejoiced in response was the one he hated most. He clenched his eyes shut and relaxed his leg.

“Good,” Zack said, his voice low as he focused.

He scooted himself up, knelt down, and hooked Brody’s knee over his arm, placing one hand at the back of his thigh, the other on the front. Brody tensed everywhere. He didn’t mean to, he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

“Relax. Hey,” Zack said, and didn’t say another word until Brody opened his eyes and met Zack’s gaze. “Relax. The cramp comes right back if you’re tense. Trust me.”

Brody nodded again because it was all he could manage. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Zack. Oddly enough, he did. But he didn’t trust himself. He didn’t like being in someone else’s hands—yet he did. He wasn’t comfortable with the vulnerability, but he was. And the position he was in was more than a tad suggestive. Except, of course, to someone like Zack. Zack, who only saw physiology, muscles, and ice packs. Cramps instead of sexual tension. Charlie horses instead of thighs.

“Good,” Zack repeated as Brody relaxed.

Brody focused on the trees to his left and tried not to think about the man between his legs or the hands all over him. It made him wonder about the next time he could get out of town.

“Is this helping?” Zack asked.

“Huh? Oh…yeah. Thanks,” Brody answered without looking at him.

Zack didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Didn’t seem to breathe.

Brody knew it was his way of making Brody either talk or look at him or pay attention. Drove him fucking nuts, but it worked. Brody turned his head to glare at Zack like a pissed-off delinquent, but when his eyes found Zack, Zack wasn’t looking back.

Zack’s gaze was somewhere below Brody’s waist, dragging along one thigh, then the other. His attention lingered there, and Brody felt it all the way through his skin. It wasn’t professional Zack checking out his alignment either. Far from.

Something different, something hungry flashed in the deep brown of Zack’s eyes. Brody felt a lick of pure heat drag up his spine and back down. Straight to his groin. He didn’t know what he did to make Zack meet his eyes. He didn’t flinch or gasp or do anything besides remain frozen in place. Still, Zack looked at him, his eyes weaving a tale that had
nothing
to do with physical therapy.

Grasping fingers, slick skin, entwined bodies, and the kind of intensity that hurt so good you’d want it again and again. It sparked between them and hung in the air, thicker than the midsummer humidity. Brody recognized the same lust that continued to torture him right there in Zack’s eyes.

“Okay.” Brody pushed himself to sit up and slid back. “I’m okay now. Much better.”

Zack seemed to shake himself out of it. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Okay. Doing great.”

“Oh. Okay.”

How many times could they both say the fucking word “okay.”

Zack shook his head and pushed himself to stand up. Brody managed to get up before Zack could offer him a hand.

“Well…” Zack looked around like he wasn’t sure where they were anymore. “Good run. It’s a good start. So…the beach next time?”

“Yeah. The beach.” Brody nodded, feeling like a damn bobblehead doll. “See you then. Thanks.” He stuck his hand out to shake Zack’s because he didn’t know what else to do, but it’d be weird if they didn’t. Though it was weird now that they did.

Zack shook it. “See you then.”

With those three words, Brody spun on his heels and still-aching thigh and quick-stepped it to his Charger. He got in and pulled out of the parking lot in record time because he had to get away to think.

This was bad. Very bad. Potential catastrophe in the making. Because not only was he attracted to his physical therapist who he could never be with—but now, there was little denying Zack was attracted right back.

Chapter Seven

Zack wasn’t sure which was more irritating: the sand in his shoes or that he continued to get lost in staring at Brody no matter how hard he tried to look at something else. Seagulls? Maniacal but not intriguing enough to hold his attention. The ocean? Gorgeous, but the call of the waves didn’t drown out the voice in his head reminding him of their last time together.

They’d worked out in silence so far, except for Brody’s bellyaching. What they weren’t saying only told Zack he hadn’t imagined the electricity between them. Brody on the ground beneath him, thick, strong legs surrounding him, storm-cloud eyes pulling Zack in, no doubt recognizing the same lust that was probably scrawled all over Zack’s face.

Damn.

A gaggle of runners sprinted by. Zack tried watching them, focusing on their form and athleticism. Brody called him on it.

“Am I doing this right? I feel like a damn idiot. I don’t do these at home for exactly this reason, so you better tell me if I’m about to pull something, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

He’d been like this since they began. Complaining more than usual, acting so much like the Brody he’d met two months ago. Zack’s theory on why supported that Brody was just as unnerved by the other day as he was. But he wasn’t going to test it.

“Let me see,” Zack told him. “Turn around and do another set, back that way.”

Brody grumbled under his breath as he turned, but he lunged away perfectly.

The truth was, at this point in his training, this should be a fairly easy workout. Brody’s complaining didn’t come from the difficulty of the exercise. It came from within. Zack wasn’t an idiot, and he knew people. Something was bugging the shit out of Brody, but he wasn’t the kind of guy you asked to have a heart-to-heart. Chat it out. Discuss feelings.

Another truth struck him too. He needed to never stand on
this
side of Brody’s lunges; his ass and defined hamstrings pulled tight.

Hell no.

Zack jogged ahead and watched Brody come toward him. “That’s good. You’ve got it,” he assured him.

“Doesn’t feel like I’ve got jack.” Brody wobbled as he lunged deeper.

“Not too deep right now. We’ll get to that later.” Zack bit his lip as soon as he said it, those two sentences bringing up a whole other image besides lunges. Jeez, he was such a perv.

It was Brody’s fault. The man caused sex on the brain.
A lot
of sex on the brain after the other day. That look. Zack’s hands on those strong thighs, the heat rising between them. The recognition. The energy that crackled between them, the drawn-out seconds of
What the hell is this?

Zack wasn’t prone to hallucinations, and there was no way the sizzle and pop the last time they were together was all in his head. It wasn’t all one-sided either. He knew what interest looked like. He couldn’t call it downright lust, because Brody had blanked out on him faster than the speed of sound. But there had been a moment, as he touched Brody’s skin, flesh against flesh, when Zack had seen honest acknowledgment in those gray eyes. Awareness. The awareness between one person and another as sexual beings.
Desirable
sexual beings.

What he was supposed to do with that information, he had no idea.

He realized he’d stopped dead in the middle of Brody’s path through the deep sand when he groaned out of the last lunge.

“Okay.” Brody stood up straight with a huff. “We’ve got to change it up before I deep lunge myself into something I’m not coming out of. My ass is killing me.”

No kidding. Zack had spent too long in the shower this morning thinking about that very same topic.

“All right.” Zack shook his head and waved back toward their cars. “Let’s jog it back, and we’ll do some arms on the steps before calling it.” The sooner he got away and out of Brody’s general vicinity, the better. There was only so much people watching he could do.

They fell into an easy rhythm, warmed up despite the early morning. Brody did his same power up at the end, this time attempting to cut Zack off. His competitiveness made Zack smile. Then he whipped Brody’s ass effortlessly.