Playboy's Promise Read online

  He pulled his leg up on the bench beside him and wrapped his arms around his knee, shifting to look her square in the face. “You’re starting to scare me, Marley. What don’t I know?”

  “Well, plenty, I’m sure. Do you know the square root of three hundred and ninety-one thousand, four hundred—” She quit when she saw his scowl, but didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Okay, okay,” she said as she took pity on him. “Dustin, I compete in the International Para-Games. I’m a swimmer.”

  He stared at her for a long minute, then whistled long and low. “The Para-Games as in, the actual International Para-Games? The super-huge-big-deal event every four years, where the whole world puts aside differences to watch you compete?” ”

  She nodded, still smiling. “Yep. I swim the butterfly 100m, which requires a lot of upper body strength in the best of circumstances. In 2016, I competed for America, and I placed fourth. I missed the cut for 2020, so I’m competing for the Bahamas, where my mother is from.”

  “Wait, you’re an actual—You’ve actually competed in the International Games?”

  “The Para-Games, yeah.”

  His eyes were wide, and his hand started making small circles in the air, as if he couldn’t come up with something to say. “Well…well, why in the heck did you let me ramble on about history, when we could’ve been talking about that? I want to know everything!”

  She laughed, and there beside the lake, she told him everything. As the sky darkened, she talked about the different classifications of swimmers—or para-athletes in general—and how the International Para-Games Committee had organized the events so athletes competed against others with similar disabilities.

  “So my classification is S7, which means I compete against other swimmers with limited mobility in our lower torso and pelvis, but none in both legs. It makes the field really fair.”

  “That’s brilliant!” He was slouched on the bench now, one arm thrown over its back, his hand dangling alarmingly near her shoulder. “How do you train?”

  To distract herself from his closeness, she launched into her schedule and regimen, telling him about her trainers in Texas and Florida, and how she followed their suggestions and checked in with them, but wasn’t as hard-core as other athletes.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind winning, sure. But this isn’t about beating other athletes, not to me. It’s about pushing myself, and proving to myself what I can do. So as long as I keep improving, that’s what matters. I can afford to travel, and I have the ability, so I do it as often as possible.”

  He was silent for so long, she looked over at him. In the twilight, it was hard to see his expression, but the dim light reflecting off the water showed a handsome silhouette she wouldn’t mind staring at for a good long while.

  Finally he shook his head with a sigh. “That’s amazing, Marley. I mean, totally epic.”

  She smiled at his attempt to mimic her surfer-speak.

  In the dim light, he twisted to look at her. “Any chance I could go swimming with you someday? See you in action?”

  “Really?” she blurted, before she could come up with some smoother response.

  “Yes, really. That’s so cool, that you push yourself that way. I’d like to see you doing it.”

  “I’m much less floppy than you’d expect,” she cautioned him, half-worried he was only inviting himself along, because he thought it was some sort of freak-show.

  But he laughed and shook his head. “Hey, I’ve seen you in that chair. I can’t imagine you being anything less than graceful in the water too.”

  It was the nicest thing he could’ve said. Marley felt herself blushing, and was glad the darkness hid it. He thought she was graceful? He wanted to swim with her?

  He’s not flirting with you.

  The realization made her pause. That’s right; he wasn’t flirting with her. He was treating her with respect and admiration, but he wasn’t flirting with her.

  Because he didn’t see her as someone worth flirting with?

  She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Swimming together. That’d be awesome.”

  He was nodding his head. “Epic.”

  And she was afraid he was right.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dustin grilled himself a burger Friday evening and sat down to watch a Bob Ross video while enjoying it. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong in the world when he listened to Bob’s quiet instructions. It was as if Dustin himself was a happy little tree…

  After he did the dishes, he pulled out his paints. It was a hobby he’d started only a few years ago, and he didn’t think he was that great. But the painting, combined with the Bob Ross instructions running through his head—“Let’s give this little tree a friend. Yes, just like that. What a nice tree you are…”—were sort of like therapy. Between the painting, the deep breathing, and the exercise, Dustin felt pretty alright.

  Except for tonight.

  Tonight, for some reason, he was jumpy. Antsy. He couldn’t focus, and the snow on his mountain was coming out all wrong. Why? He stepped back from the canvas, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on his body.

  His hand was shaking.

  He frowned and put the paintbrush down, staring at it. Why was his hand shaking? Was he…nervous? What would he be nervous or anxious about?

  Breathing deeply, Dustin crossed to the yoga mat beside his couch, laid down, and stretched out on his back. Lying there, he closed his eyes and took stock of his body and his thoughts. It wasn’t long before he’d pinpointed the problem.

  Marley.

  Marley was the problem.

  Why?

  Another few deep breaths, and Dustin knew the truth.

  He’d enjoyed hanging out with her. She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known before, but for some reason, that was a point in her favor. Hanging out with her reminded him of hanging out with Travis.

  No, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t like Travis, and that’s what made her intriguing. But hanging out with her made Dustin feel the way he felt when he was hanging out with Travis.

  Yeah.

  Like she was a friend. A buddy.

  And he enjoyed being with her. So the solution to this current unease was obvious.

  Popping up into a sitting position, he reached for his phone and pulled up Travis’s number.

  You there? he typed.

  After a moment, his cousin’s response came through. Dinner with C. What up?

  Dustin took a deep breath. I need Marley’s number.

  Why?

  Knowing full well Caroline, Marley’s best friend, was likely leaning over Travis’s shoulder, Dustin told his cousin the truth. So I can ask her out.

  The response took a few minutes, during which Dustin got more nervous. What if Caroline didn’t approve? What if both of them thought he didn’t deserve her number?

  What if they don’t think I’m good enough?

  He blinked. Why wouldn’t they think him good enough?

  Because of the way you love ‘em and leave ‘em. It’s kinda your thing.

  Oh, yeah.

  Finally, his phone vibrated. C says OK. Stand by.

  When Marley’s number came through, Dustin breathed a little sigh of relief and texted a thank you to his cousin. Then he punched in her number.

  And stared at it.

  He stared at it until his phone’s screen went black, shaking him out of his thoughts. What if he wasn’t good enough for her?

  Just call her!

  He took a deep breath, then pressed ”send.”

  When she picked up, she seemed genuinely happy to hear from him. They exchanged small talk about her practice that morning, and his insurance company debacle he’d dealt with all day. Finally though, he got down to the reason for his call.

  “Listen, Marley, I had a lot of fun hanging with you last night. Would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?”

  She was quiet for a moment, and he felt his heart pound. There
’d been a few times a lady had turned him down when he’d asked her out. This was always the moment, the point in the conversation when they confessed they weren’t interested, or didn’t think it would be smart to go out again.

  Sure, it had happened before, and Dustin was used to it. Being turned down for dates was just part of the game, usually from women who didn’t want anything to do with the town Playboy. But he found himself holding his breath, hoping it wouldn’t happen this time.

  Finally, she said, “Yeah, okay. That works.”

  So informal! But Dustin’s breath whooshed out on a nervous laugh. “That’s great! I was thinking about Impressions tomorrow evening?” It was now the fanciest restaurant in Quinn Valley, and was connected to his uncle’s hotel. It used to be fairly low-key, but his cousin’s new fiancée had improved the menu, and Dusty had taken a few dates there since then. “I can pick you up at six, if you’d like.”

  “No, probably not a good idea.”

  Her quick denial surprised him, but understanding came a heartbeat later. “Oh, duh. Because of the wheelchair—”

  He almost bit his tongue in an effort to shut himself up. Why did he keep saying stuff like that to her? She knew she was in a wheelchair! He just sounded like an idiot.

  But to his surprise, she ignored his faux pas. “No,” she said quietly. “Because you picking me up would make this too much like a date.”

  Too much like a—? Dustin frowned. “And you don’t want it to be a date?”

  “What I want isn’t important. I know you aren’t thinking of this as a date.”

  He opened his mouth, but the sound which emerged was something like “Blerck?” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not thinking of this as a date? Impressions is where I take my dates, Marley.”

  Oh great, dummy, just admit you’re a serial dater to a girl you’re trying to impress. Real smooth.

  But she didn’t seem bothered by the admission, because she said quietly, “That might be so, but you don’t think of me that way, and that’s fine.”

  What was she talking about? “How do you know?” he challenged.

  “Because if you did, you wouldn’t stammer or get embarrassed when you talk about my wheelchair,” she shot right back. “This is who I am, and I’m awesome, Dustin. Yeah, my legs don’t work, but that doesn’t make me less of a woman.”

  While Dustin sat in stunned silence, Marley exhaled heavily.

  “Listen, you’re not the first guy to think of me as a buddy, and I’m cool with that. You’re used to dating women who are physically perfect, yeah? Well, that’s not me, so you think of me as your friend, someone who is safe. But I’m a woman, Dustin, and even though you may not see me that way, I’ve got the same desires and needs as any other woman.”

  In the silence, Dustin could hear his own breathing, and knew it wasn’t steady.

  He had to say something.

  “No,” he croaked. “You’re wrong—”

  “I’m not,” she said quickly, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me. Caro and Travis and you and I have to be civil to one another, and I think it’s cool hanging out with you. I’d really like to do it again. And I want you to know I’m okay being your friend, just your friend.” She was talking quickly now. “Guys like you, you have a lot of friends, and I don’t need to be another conquest, seriously. So let’s just be friends, yeah?”

  Holy… She was giving him that line?

  Dustin sat in stunned silence. How many times had he handed out the “Let’s just be friends” line? And how many times had he actually followed up on it, actually remaining friends with the woman?

  He couldn’t think of a single one. Oh, he was friendly and polite of course, if he ever saw her out and about. Quinn Valley was a small town, after all. But he’d never made any effort to actually remain friends with the women he dated, after he gave them that line.

  She was waiting for an answer. And Dustin had been on the giving end of the “Let’s be friends” speech enough to know what was expected. “Sure,” he croaked. “That works.”

  A little exhalation on the other end of the phone told him she might’ve been holding her breath.

  “So…” She cleared her throat. “Do you still want to grab dinner tomorrow?”

  “What? Yes.” He hadn’t stopped to consider his words before they were out of his mouth, but once they were, he was glad. Yeah, he still wanted to see her tomorrow. “We can meet there. Impressions at six-thirty? I’ll make a reservation.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll…uh, I’ll see you there.”

  Was it his imagination, or did she seem more awkward than usual? She hadn’t uttered a single surfer’s slang throughout their entire conversation.

  “Great. Yeah. Um.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.” He winced, knowing he sounded like a teenager. “Okay, have a good night.”

  “Bye.”

  When the line went dead, Dustin sat there on his yoga mat, staring at the phone in his hand.

  Let’s just be friends.

  But no, that hadn’t been the worst thing she’d said to him.

  You think of me as a buddy, but I’m a woman.

  Dustin pushed himself to his feet and took a deep breath. Standing there in the silence of his apartment, he admitted the truth.

  She was right. He hadn’t thought of her as having the same “needs” as the other women he’d dated. He’d hung out with her a few times now, and had even acknowledged how hot she was, with those muscles and wide smile and easy laugh.

  But not once, not once had he thought about kissing her.

  As soon as the thought popped into his head, his eyes widened. An image appeared in his mind, Marley with her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as passionately as he was kissing her. He imagined the way she’d taste—surely of salt water and clean breezes!—as he dropped kisses along her jaw, and she breathed heavily against his skin.

  Wow.

  Wow.

  He pinched his eyes closed and shook his head. Where had that come from?

  She was right; he hadn’t thought of her as a woman, the kind of woman he wanted to date or kiss. But now that he’d thought of it once, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

  It wasn’t until he was halfway through putting away his paints, that he was suddenly struck with a realization: He’d pictured kissing her, but she’d been in his arms. They’d been standing.

  But kissing Marley—if he ever got the chance—wouldn’t be like that. Kissing Marley wouldn’t be like anything else he’d experienced.

  And, he was beginning to suspect, not just because of the wheelchair.

  It was still light enough outside to go for a walk, so when Dustin finished cleaning up, he changed into a pair of jeans, because even though scrubs were comfortable, he preferred to go out in public looking like a normal person. Then he locked his apartment and headed towards downtown.

  The main street of Quinn Valley was always busy, but in a good way. Since he’d grown up here, and was related to literally a third of the town, he usually saw people he knew. If nothing else, it was fun to see the kids playing in the little park, or just simply watch the line snake around the block at the taco stand.

  As he passed, he waved to Ciran, the taco-maker, who was married to one of Dustin’s cousins. His wife, Roxie, had given birth to little Christian only a few days ago, so the poor man looked exhausted. Sitting at the picnic tables around the taco truck were no less than three other couples he was related to: his cousin, Georgia, with her fiancé Logan; Travis’s sister, Robin, with her husband—and childhood sweetheart—Ben; along with Robin’s sister, Brooke, and her brand-new husband, Jared.

  He waved to them all, but didn’t stop.

  Instead, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, tucked his chin against his chest, and started walking. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but just began walking at one end of the litt
le downtown area, moving through it, then past it. When he reached the residential streets, he turned around, realizing he’d crossed multiple streets without noticing.

  Hopefully I waited for the crosswalk!

  It was Marley and her words—her accusations?—that had him so distracted. She was right; he’d seen her as safe. He’d seen her as a buddy, someone he could just hang out with.

  He hadn’t thought of her as dateable.

  But now that he was, he couldn’t stop.

  The idea of dating her was intriguing, and he was honest enough to admit why. He’d never thought about dating—kissing—a woman in a wheelchair, but that wasn’t what intrigued him. No, it was her sense of humor, her intelligence, her life experiences. She was a professional athlete, for goodness’ sake! And had a wealth of stories about her past, which made him laugh and learn, which was basically the ideal as far as Dustin was concerned.

  And she was hot. Like really, really hot.

  I wonder how she kisses.

  She’d said she had “needs” and “desires,” the same as any other woman, and now that he was thinking about those desires, he was having trouble thinking of much else.

  Yeah, he’d been thinking of her as a buddy, but not anymore!

  Wow.

  “You’d better keep your head up, young man, or you’ll run into something!”

  The strident voice jerked Dustin out of his reverie, and he yanked himself to a stop in front of Earth Mother, the weird little crystal shop on the first floor of a purple-painted house. And that meant…

  “Hello, Ambrosia. How are you?”

  The woman who smiled back at him had frizzy hair and was wearing a long purple skirt, and so many bangles, she sounded like a brass band when she waved. And while he was used to women smiling back at him that way, he knew it wasn’t because of his charm. A few weeks ago, his cousin, Bobling, had returned from his stint in Afghanistan and had brought Gunnery Sargent Jackson Jones with him. Jackson had taken one look at Ambrosia and had fallen head-over-heels for her.