Page 28 of Too Hot To Handle

„Ice?“ he asked.

She sank onto the bed, peeled down the elastic knee brace and prodded her knee a good deal less gently than Reever had. „It’s not that bad, really. A little swelling, but it won’t get in the way of my packing.“

Reever’s expression darkened. „I’ll get you some ice.“

Tory started to say that it wasn’t necessary, she could get the ice herself or do without it, but Reever was already gone. With a sigh she unstrapped the weights, pulled off the brace and stretched out on the bed. Within a few minutes Reever was back with an ice bag. When she would have sat up again, he put his hand on her shoulder, holding her down gently.

„I’ll take care of it,“ he said. „You look pale.“

Tory opened her mouth to tell Reever that it wasn’t because of her knee, but caught herself as she realized that he would want to know what was bothering her. He would ask questions, questions that she really didn’t want to answer – questions he really wouldn’t like the answers to.

In the end she simply moved over to make room for him to sit on the bed, afraid to argue and end the rare moment of peace. She wanted it to continue. She wanted to take from the Sundance more than memories of anger and humiliation. She wanted – too much.

The contrast between Reever’s big, warm hand holding her leg and the healing chill of the ice bag was like nothing Tory had ever felt, almost discontenting in its intensity. Her breath came in sharply.

„Does that hurt?“ Reever asked quickly, his eyes searching hers.

„No.“

He looked at her for a moment longer.

„Really,“ Tory said, her voice soft. Almost helplessly she added, „You have very gentle hands.“

An expression close to pain tightened Reever’s face. „How did it happen?“ he asked for the third time.

Tory grabbed the question like the lifeline it was. „Ten meters is a long way to fall,“ she said. „If you land wrong, you can hurt yourself. I wrenched my knee trying to do a triple somersault off the platform. That was a year ago. I came back from the injury, and then one night I slipped in the kitchen at the end of the late shift. I fell with my knee under me at a bad angle, tearing hell out of everything. I had surgery the next day.“

„How long ago?“ asked Reever, moving the ice bag to the other side of her knee.

„About two months.“

Reever went very still. „Do you mean you were going to walk nineteen miles to town three weeks after your knee was operated on and not say a word to me about it?“

Tory smiled sadly. So much for Reever’s gentleness; but it had been lovely while it lasted. „People have won marathons threedaysafter knee surgery,“ she said calmly. „Besides, the doctor told me not to baby the knee. Walking is excellent, easy exercise.“

„Sure, as long as you’re not carrying thirty pounds of badly balanced junk that turns your hands into raw meat,“ retorted Reever. „And then Billy chasing you over rough country. I should have broken his neck.“

Tory’s eyes snapped open. The grim lines of Reever’s face told her how deep his rage was. Yet when he spoke, it was only to ask another question.

„What did you mean about the late shift in the kitchen? Does the swim club cook for its members?“

She couldn’t help laughing. „It wasn’t quite that much of a home.“

Reever waited impatiently, the flat line of his mouth a silent threat.

Tory closed her eyes again, feeling like crying. It had been so nice not to have Reever angry at her for just a few minutes. „As soon as I turned sixteen,“ she said tonelessly, „I moved in with three other girls. I got a job at a local coffee shop, first as a waitress, then also as a cook. I worked the late shift because it didn’t interfere with my training.“

„You worked nights when you were sixteen?“ Reever asked roughly, hardly able to believe that her parents had allowed it.

„Believe me, the stove didn’t care how old I was.“

„God, the drunks must have – “ Reever bit off a savage curse as he thought of Tory subjected to an endless string of drunken men trying to sober up for the drive home after the bars had closed.

Tory shrugged. She had hated the drunks, but there had been no help for it. She had needed the job.

„How long do you have to rest the knee before you go back to diving?“ Reever tried to make the question calm rather than harsh, but he didn’t succeed.

„The doctor said two or three months. If the knee isn’t back to full strength by then, chances are it never will be.“