Hearts Collide Page 2

  Piper spun on her heels and headed to the bathroom. A few seconds later, she had the shower turned on.

  “You have ten-seconds to start your shower.” She popped her head out the doorway, her red pixie hair stuck out in all directions and her long bangs framed the fierceness of her baby blues.

  “Or what?”

  She lifted her phone. “Or I call for back up.”

  “You said Forest was off gallivanting around the globe.”

  “He is, but Ryker is just itching for my call. I can’t wait to watch him toss you in the shower.”

  Knowing Ryker, he wouldn’t just toss Bent in, he’d crank on the cold water first, then shove, and hold Bent under the frigid stream. Ryker was used to going without the creature comforts in life.

  Bent tilted his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Fuuuuuck!”

  His pixie didn’t play fair.

  I Don’t Whine

  Bent

  Bent shuffled to the spacious bathroom. When Piper didn’t follow, he breathed a sigh of relief. The woman was insufferable on the best of days and flat out impossible the rest of the time. She would be much easier to deal with if she weren’t so damn bossy.

  Maybe that’s why Forest had hired the tenacious physical therapist? Forest knew what Bent would’ve done to a man: knocked the ass out and tossed him out the door. Forest must be paying her well. That had to be why Piper kept coming back. It certainly wasn’t because Bent treated her well. Her motivation for putting up with his abuse had nothing to do with any interest in him. It had everything to do with her relationship with Forest. That and the hefty paycheck the Angel Fire band manager had to be paying her.

  “Are you in the shower yet?” Her airy voice made him cringe.

  Goddammit, was she planning on coming inside? It wouldn’t be the first time. Damn ADLs and her insistence she help.

  “Give me one damn minute. I gotta piss.”

  He didn’t need to relieve himself, but he did need more time to yank off his shirt. Yank! Now that was funny. With his crippled arm, there was no yanking; not of his shirt and not of his aching dick. There would be no relief any time soon. Not with Piper around.

  Against orders, he used his good arm to pull the shirt over his head. It shouldn’t be this hard.

  “Bent! That is not what we talked about.”

  He had the shirt halfway over his head and lowered the fabric to peer at Piper standing in the doorway. She had one hip cocked forward and a disapproving expression filled her face.

  “What part of me needing to take a leak did you not understand?”

  Her eyes cut to the toilet and then back to him. “What part of use your right arm did you not understand?”

  He grimaced at the arm hanging limply at his side. “Let’s not do this today, Piper.”

  “We’re going to do this every day until we have your arm fully rehabilitated.”

  “Like that’s ever going to happen.” He kept his words low, uttered under his breath, but she heard him.

  “Your pissy attitude doesn’t faze me.”

  “I don’t care what phases, or doesn’t faze you.” He let the words peal out with a low thunder, barely keeping his anger in check.

  “And growly bears have no effect on me.”

  She approached him and took his hand in hers; not the strong, powerful one, but the weak useless one. Straightening out his fingers, she massaged the tired muscles.

  “Did you do your exercises over the weekend?”

  He had a list of daily exercises to perform, before and after her therapy sessions. The weekend list had an additional session to make up for Piper’s absence. He often wondered what his little torturer did when she wasn’t making his life hell.

  What did Piper Raines do on her time off?

  Why the fuck did he care?

  But he thought about her more than he should. Even now, he wanted to brush back her bangs. They hung low over her eyes, hiding the pristine blue orbs he could get lost in for days. The rest of her hair was cut short. Red spikes angled every direction. A perfect mess. A wonderfully sexy combination of spitfire and spunk resided in Piper Raines.

  Her touch sent tingles of electricity up his arm. She held his hand with the confidence of a woman who knew her business. There was nothing sexual in her touch or in his reaction to it, because Piper had no interest in him.

  Never had.

  But she had amazing hands. Her massage brought relief to the tired muscles of his hand. Eased the strain in his wrist and worked to loosen the scar tissue where metal pins had once held his bones in place.

  He closed his eyes as her slow massage worked up his arm. Her deft fingers dug into the wasted muscles of his forearms. Her journey paused below his elbow, where she traced the scars there as well. She worked at the puckered flesh, kneading the scar tissue. And that was where her touch ended. He’d shattered the bones of his forearm. Beneath the pale skin, more metal than bone held his arm together.

  “Now,” she said, dropping his arm. “Try that again. Only this time, don’t use your good arm.” She took a step back and tucked her chin. Her gaze cut up and latched on to him with a stern expression that said she expected him to comply.

  He held back the laughter bubbling in his chest. At five-foot-four, she was more than a foot shorter than him. A pixie indeed, but damn was she fierce.

  Without bothering to argue, he did exactly as she commanded.

  Their relationship intrigued him, because she was the only woman he took orders from. Well, truthfully, Skye had kicked his ass a couple times after his operation when depression had him in the fiercest grip. A doctor herself, Skye understood enough of what was going on with his operations to explain what his Ortho docs could not, using language he understood. And of course there was Ryker’s girl, Tia. Another woman who refused to back down from his harshest stares.

  Whatever happened to women who listened? Who obeyed?

  Yet another reason absolutely zero energy sparked between him and Piper. He preferred submissive women. Submissive in and out of bed. Not that he’d ever dated a woman who was submissive out of bed. Hell, he hadn’t dated a woman since the band hit it big. That was well over a decade ago. Why bother with the daily drag when a smorgasbord of willing female flesh waited for him every night?

  “You gonna just stand there and stare at me, big guy? Or do you think you might actually take off that shirt? I don’t have all day.”

  “Good,” he snapped. “That means you’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Soon is all dependent on you. I’m not going to start your therapy until you no longer reek of booze and…” She sniffed the air. “Do I even want to know what else you reek of?”

  It wasn’t sex. He’d struck out last night.

  “I am fully capable of taking a shower by myself.”

  “Then prove it. Take off your shirt with your right hand.”

  “You just want to watch me strip.”

  Her arms crossed and she glared at him. “Trust me, watching you strip is the least entertaining thing.” She untucked her arms and rolled her wrist. “You know, I do have a life. The sooner you clean up, the sooner we can start and finish. You don’t want me here anymore than I want to listen to you whine.”

  “I don’t whine.”

  “Of course not. Big old Bent the Bassist never whines when the going gets tough. Now shut up. Strip down. And for the love of God, get in the damn shower. I’ve got something I want you to try.”

  “In the shower?”

  He winked, but it was wasted effort. She’d already spun around and marched back into his room. Not wanting her to chastise him again, he determined to pull off his shirt using his wasted arm. The weakness in his grip made tugging on the hem difficult, but he managed to remove the shirt by the time she returned.

  “What the fuck is that?” He glanced at the long white sleeve of fabric in her hand.

  “Something I think will help.” She sidestepped around him and headed to the shower.
“Take off the pants. Only use your right arm.”

  “Bossy much?”

  “I’m paid to boss you around.”

  And evidently to watch him strip.

  He would complain, but in the past four months, Skye, Tia, and Piper had all seen him naked.

  When his arm had had pins and had been in a cast, his showers had turned from private affairs to a complicated event with the women. None of his bandmates showed any interest in helping with his ADLs, like showering. It had been Skye and Tia who’d stepped up to the plate.

  He’d voiced objections, which they had both laughed off, saying they’d seen more naked male flesh than he’d seen naked women. He would’ve argued, but with Skye being an emergency room doc, and Tia’s years as an Air Force CRNA, that would’ve been an argument he would have lost. His physique didn’t impress them.

  Somewhere along the way, Piper had been drawn into his bathing routine, sharing the task with Skye and Tia. It should be a badge of honor to have not one, not two, but three women helping him shower, but it only made him feel even worse.

  He stripped out of his pants and glanced down at his limp cock. Even it had lost interest.

  Piper returned, holding her contraption in her hands. She gave fleeting notice to his naked body and instead came to stand in front of him.

  “This,” she said, demonstrating, “is how you’re going to wash yourself.”

  Well, thank fuck for that.

  Piper showed him the soap she’d placed inside what looked to be an elongated sock. It wasn’t, because one end of the tube had a zipper attached to it. Several loops dangled from that end.

  “Now, you slip your thumb and fingers into the loops. It’ll keep it from slipping out of your grip. Hold the other end with your good hand, but I want you to pull and tug with your right arm. All you do is drag it across your body. The tube allows you to get everywhere. And it will help strengthen your grip.” For the first time, her cheeks pinked with the beginnings of a blush, but the moment was brief and Piper went back to business.

  She showed him what she intended, then had him try it out of the shower. When it looked like he had a handle of it, she gave a satisfied nod.

  “Okay, Growly, give it a go.”

  He paused, certain she was going to stay to watch, in case he needed help, but she didn’t. Turning on her heels again, she left him to shower in peace. It should feel wonderful being able to take a shower on his own. One ADL down, but why did that fill him with disappointment?

  Kids Listened

  Piper

  Piper placed a hand over her belly. It did nothing to stop the incessant flutter churning her gut into a tangled mess of mixed signals and crossed wires. The man in the shower wasn’t anything like her typical client.

  She dealt with children, mostly, providing physical therapy for any number of neurologic, neuromuscular, or developmental disorders. A few adults graced her clinic, who like Bent were in recovery following injury, but never in a million years would she have thought she’d be making a house call to a petulant, over-indulged, and spoiled rock god.

  What the hell had she been thinking when she signed that exclusive contract with a non-disclosure agreement attached to it?

  Kids were easy.

  They listened.

  They obeyed.

  They rarely talked back.

  But Bent?

  He never listened. He didn’t obey the simplest of rules, and his damn mouth kept up a non-stop diatribe of why he couldn’t accomplish the simplest of things. He was insufferable. She would walk away if it weren’t for one little thing.

  “Goddammit!” Bent’s low roar made her jump.

  Her shoulders met her ears as she cringed.

  Don’t go back in there.

  She did not want to be in that room any longer than necessary. He was naked, and with Bent, that was a lot of temptation to resist. The well-endowed man had been graced by the gods.

  “Do you need help?” She was honor bound to offer assistance, even when it made her cringe.

  “No!”

  A string of curses followed and, from the sounds coming from the bathroom, it sounded as if he had dropped the soap. She held back a giggle as images of him twisting and fumbling came to mind. If he only tried harder, things wouldn’t be difficult. His obstinate manner made everything harder than it needed to be.

  With Bent’s rock star status, she had expected difficulties. Celebrities were notoriously difficult, and she’d been warned away from accepting high profile clients. Bent was as over the top, and difficult, as she had imagined; perhaps worse.

  He yelled at her daily. Fired her nearly as often. And he growled through most of their conversations. Depressing and aggravating didn’t even begin to describe what it was like working alongside the man day in and day out.

  Not a fan of the mega rock band, she paid little attention to Angel Fire’s superstar status, but understood they orbited in the highest circles. The band had more money than they could spend in several lifetimes, but surprised her with their general laid back attitude. A tight knit group, they lived, worked, and played hard together. In many ways, Angel Fire was a family, a wonky and unique group of individuals, except for Bent. He was the growly bear thrust into the mix, and his tenacious refusal to put forth the most minimal effort made her want to pull her hair out.

  “Piper! This thing doesn’t work worth shit!”

  His roar would’ve made the uninitiated run for the hills, but she’d had a couple weeks to get used to his temper.

  “Put the loops around your hand, Mr. Growly Bear, and slow down. It’s not a race.”

  “No shit Sherlock.”

  For the umpteenth time, she surveyed Bent’s quarters, and for the umpteenth time she had to remember to close her jaw. It amazed her people actually lived in such elegance. It was a far cry from the studio apartment she’d recently vacated. He had an entire wall dedicated to his instrument of choice. Bass guitars hung from hooks, or perched on stands, and had been designated a No touch zone. Not that she had any interest in his guitars.

  Her contract stipulated she would be housed on-site. When she’d signed the reams of legalese, she had expected a mansion and anticipated being shoved into a small boarding room not much larger than a closet. Many images had floated through her mind about the rock star lifestyle, but she hadn’t been prepared for the sprawling expanse that was Angel Fire’s mega estate.

  Affectionately dubbed Insanity, the steel and glass architectural masterpiece perched over the California cliffs and sported million dollar views of the majesty of the Pacific Ocean far below. The sprawling mansion boasted ten residential suites, miniature homes within the estate, a commuter’s helicopter pad, upper and lower garages capable of holding scores of collector cars, three swimming pools, more than a handful of sculpted and manicured courtyards, several common living areas, two gourmet kitchens with a full staff, and a host of maids, butlers, and even a concierge service for the residents and guests.

  Several out-buildings completed the property. A modern recording studio shared prime real estate facing out over the ocean, and a more modest service building sat back from the others, closest to the road. There was even a gondola which brought passengers from the sea-side cliffs down to the rocky beach far below.

  For the duration of her contract, she’d been given accommodations in the service building, a three-story structure full of nothing but apartments for the residential help.

  Her room boasted 1500-square feet of top-of-the-line living, and while she didn’t have the million dollar views of the ocean, the pounding surf was loud enough to lull her to sleep at night. She kept them open every night and breathed in the salty air and freshness of the ocean breezes. Insanity felt like a place where new beginnings were made.

  Certainly, she intended to forge her new beginnings. With room and board as part of her impressive compensation package, Piper found no reason to spend any of her money. There was nothing beyond the walled estate she n
eeded to see. No one she needed to visit. Nothing she wanted to do. Her days revolved around morning, afternoon, and evening physical therapy sessions with Bent. Sandwiched in between, she visited the kitchens, or took advantage of the gondola and spent her free time wandering the beach.

  “Do you need help?”

  She called out over her shoulder as she glided over to the expansive wall of windows and opened up one of the sliding panels. The entire wall of plate glass could be pushed aside, literally bringing the outside in. With moderate California temperatures, it wasn’t uncommon for most of the estate to be open to the ocean breezes.

  Crisp ocean air flooded her senses, much more pronounced here than in her modest quarters.

  She waited a moment, listening to see if Bent needed help, but when he didn’t answer, a few steps brought her out to the expansive wraparound deck. The wind whipped at her short hair, lifting it in the steady breeze coming directly off the ocean.

  She kept her hair cut in a short pixie updo. Other than frequent haircuts, and coloring to maintain the vibrant red, the short style was easy to manage. She loved the freedom of finger combing her hair. That wildness made it fun, and she needed a little more fun in her life.

  The sounds of Bent’s shower could be heard through the open window of the bathroom, as well as his incessant cussing. The man had a psychedelic vocabulary, one he used often.

  She turned and moved away, not so far that she wouldn’t be able to hear if he needed help, but enough to mute the worst of the expletives dripping from his foul mouth.

  Since it was such a gorgeous day, she decided they would move their therapy session out onto the broad porch. It took a moment to retrieve her bag, and a little more time to rearrange the patio furniture to make enough room. Satisfied with her preparations, she went to the railing where she peered down at the violent surf far below.

  Skye had told her that sometimes they could see whales breaching beyond the breakwater. There were seals too, which meant great white sharks infested the waters. The pounding surf made the water unsafe to swim in, but an expanse of rocky tide pools extended for miles. Left alone, she could lose herself for hours peering into the pools left behind when the tide receded. She wished she were down there now, instead of facing another grueling two hours with an insufferable brute.