Walking the Line (12 page)

“How do you know I haven’t hooked up or
gotten laid?”

Mia clinked her glass with mine. “Because,
dear friend, all you ever do is study. You don’t date. You don’t
party.”

“And you don’t even consider Mia’s fix-ups,”
Dani said, raising her glass. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“How can I put this politely?” I finished my
champers in three gulps before glaring at them. “Piss off.”

Dani laughed. “I know for a fact that’s the
Aussie version of fuck off.”

Some of the mischief faded from Mia’s eyes.
“You know we’re only teasing?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but since the arrival of
this one—” I pointed at Dani, “—you haven’t let up.”

Mia made a zipping motion over her lips at
Dani, who was the more relentless of the two. “That’s because we
want you to be happy.”

“I am.” The quick response sounded hollow
even to my ears.

Because the truth was, I wasn’t happy. Sure,
my studies were going great and I’d made a bunch of new friends
while in Denver. But I missed Melbourne. And on a deeper level, I
missed Uppity-Doo, the small country town in northern Victoria I
called home.

If I was completely honest, the last time I’d
been truly happy was back there, in my final year of high school,
when the guy I’d adored had reciprocated my feelings on that one,
fateful night I hadn’t been able to forgot. Several years and a
trip across the Pacific hadn’t dimmed the memory. Sadly, no guy had
come close to eliciting the same spark.

“Sure you are,” Dani said. “You could almost
convince us looking like this—” She pulled a face with downturned
mouth and deep frown, “—translates to happiness in Australia.” She
rolled her eyes. “But I’ve lived there for the last twelve months,
remember, and I happen to know that’s bullshit.”

Mia took the empty champagne glass out of my
hand and draped an arm across my shoulders. “Listen, sweetie, we’ll
lay off if you promise to keep an open mind tonight.”

“What’s on tonight?” Like I had to ask. Yet
another party where my well-meaning friends would try to foist some
unsuspecting guy on me. A guy I’d chat with and laugh with while
pretending to enjoy myself, knowing by the end of the night I’d be
heading back to my dorm alone.

I wasn’t interested in transient flings.
Never had been. And with an expiration date on my studies here in
the States, it was the main reason I’d remained single by
choice.

The other reason, where I was pathetically,
ridiculously hung up over a guy who didn’t know I existed these
days, was one I preferred to ignore.

“A few of us are heading out to that new bar
in town.” Mia squeezed my shoulders. “Apparently there’s an Aussie
guy in town Kye thought you might like to meet—”

“Not interested.” I held up my hand. Yeah,
like that would stop these two in full matchmaking mode. “Aussie
guys are footy-loving, cricket-watching, beer-swilling bogans.”

“We beg to differ.” Dani smirked. “The Aussie
guys we know are sexy, sweet and incredibly talented in bed.”

“Hear, hear,” Mia said, removing her arm from
my shoulders to give Dani a high-five.

“You two are pathetic.” I smiled, despite a
pang of loneliness making me yearn for what they’d found with Kye
and Ashton. “And for your information, I’m not going.”

“That’s what you think,” Dani said, a second
before she and Mia gang-tackled me.

We tumbled to the floor amid shrieks of
laughter and hair pulling.

“Get off me.” I elbowed Dani hard and
followed up with a well-aimed kick to Mia’s shin.

“Crazy bitch,” Dani said, chuckling as she
sat up and rubbed her midriff, while Mia inspected her shin. “As if
a few well-aimed jabs will get you out of going tonight.”

Secretly admiring their determination to
avoid me turning into a hermit, I folded my arms. “You can’t make
me.”

“Want to make a bet?” Mia smirked. “If you
don’t want to come for social reasons, maybe we can appeal to your
professional side.”

Confused, I said, “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“Apparently Kye met this guy when his
shoulder tendonitis flared up today.” Mia’s smugness made fingers
of premonition strum the back of my neck. “He’s a physical
therapist.”

No way. It couldn’t be.

“What’s his name?” I aimed for casual, hoping
the nerves making my stomach flip-flop wouldn’t affect my
voice.

Mia shrugged. “No idea.”

“You’ll just have to come to the bar and find
out,” Dani said, oblivious to the rampant adrenalin flooding my
system, making me want to flee.

I was being ridiculous. There were many
Australian physiotherapists working around the world. The odds of
this Aussie physio being Joel were a million to one.

But that didn’t stop my hands from giving a
betraying quiver as I snagged my long hair that had come loose in
our wrestling match and twisted it into a top-knot.

“We won’t take no for an answer.” Mia and
Dani stood next to each other, shoulders squared, determination
making their eyes glitter.

“Fine, you win.” I held up my hands in
resignation as they did a victory jig.

“You won’t regret it, sweetie,” Mia said.

I already did. Because if this Aussie physio
was Joel Goodes, the guy who’d broken my heart, I was in trouble.
Big trouble.

Chapter 2

JOEL

I’d had a shit of a day.

Back to back patients for eight hours
straight. Four meniscectomies, three rotator cuff tears, two carpel
tunnel syndromes, an Achilles tendon bursitis, ankylosing
spondylitis, torticollis, Osgood-Schlatter’s, synovial cyst,
popliteal effusion and a hamstring tear, and that had just been the
morning.

I usually thrived on the constant buzz of
diagnosing and treating orthopedic injuries at the outpatient
clinic I’d worked at in downtown Denver for the last three months.
The manic pace suited me.

Not today. Today, I’d been too busy mulling
over Mum’s late night phone call to fully appreciate the varying
conditions I’d treated.

Mum was considering retiring and wanted me to
come home to run her practice. A good offer, if the practice had
been situated anywhere but Uppity-Doo.

God, I hated that name. Hated what it stood
for more. Staidness. Stability. Stifling. Small town fishbowl
mentality with a healthy dose of outback narrow-mindedness. Not
that Uppity-Doo was outback exactly. Situated close to the
Victorian-New South Wales border, it was four hours from Melbourne.
And a million miles from where I ever wanted to be.

I’d escaped the town as soon as I could. Did
my physio bachelor’s degree in Melbourne and had been travelling
ever since. Four years on the road. Locum work from London to LA,
and many cities in between. Three months in one city was ideal, six
months at a stretch.

I’d been enjoying my stint in Denver, until
that phone call. Mum’s bollocking, about how I’d skirted
responsibility all these years, rankled. She needed someone to take
over her practice. That someone couldn’t be me.

So when my last patient of the day, an Aussie
tennis player, had invited me to a bar with some of his mates
tonight, I’d accepted. A few beers would take the edge off.

But it wouldn’t eradicate the inevitable
guilt that talking to Mum elicited. She sure knew how to ram the
bamboo under my fingernails and hammer the buggers home. She’d been
the same with Dad. And it had killed him in the end.

I entered the bar and made for the pool
tables, where Kye Sheldon had said his group would be. Would be
good to chat to a bunch of fellow Aussies. Not that I didn’t
appreciate the people I met on my travels, but nobody did laid-back
humor like Aussies.

“Mate, good to see you.” Kye appeared out of
nowhere as I neared the tables and slapped me on the back. “Come
meet the rest of the gang.”

A boutique beer was thrust at me by a guy on
my left. “Cheers, mate. I’m Ashton.”

“Thanks.” I raised the bottle in his
direction. “Been in the States long?”

“About a month.” Ashton pointed at Kye. “This
bloke’s practically a local though.”

Kye grinned. “Can’t tear myself away from the
joint.”

Ashton snorted. “That’s because his
girlfriend has his balls in her back pocket.”

I laughed and Kye held up his hands in
surrender. “Guilty as charged, and loving it.”

These guys had an obvious camaraderie and I
experienced a rare pang. Traveling continuously wasn’t conductive
to mateship and I missed having someone, anyone, I could rely
on.

I’d had a good mate once, back in Uppity-Do.
A mate I’d eventually lost contact with deliberately, because of
what I’d done with his sister.

Man, Trevor would’ve killed me if he’d found
out about Annabelle and me.

“You can talk.” Kye pressed his thumb into
Ashton’s forehead. “Yep, my thumb fits perfectly into the permanent
indentation Dani has left there.”

Ashton clinked his beer bottle against Kye’s.
“I’m a schmuck in love and proud of it.”

They turned to face me. “What about you,
Joel? You seeing anyone?”

I shook my head. “I move around too much to
maintain a relationship.”

The flash of pity in their eyes surprised me.
Usually guys in relationships envied my lifestyle. And freedom was
enviable. Not being tied down to one woman, in one place, for all
eternity. Dying a slow death.

Ashton nodded, thoughtful. “Relationships are
hard work, without the added pressure of distance.”

“Listen to you.” Kye sniggered. “Next you’ll
be braiding our hair and painting our nails.”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed but he grinned. “Dani
likes that I’m a SNAG.”

“You’re not a sensitive new age guy, you’re a
lapdog.” Kye lowered his tone and leaned toward me. “He’s an
artist
. That explains a lot.”

In response, Ashton punched Kye on the arm.
Considering the size of the tennis player’s biceps I’d seen while
treating his shoulder earlier today, he wouldn’t feel a thing.

“Better than being a Neanderthal masquerading
as a college student while playing tennis for fun.” Ashton made
inverted comma signs with his fingers when he said ‘for fun’ and
smirked.

I chuckled. “You two are like an old married
couple. Been mates for long?”

“A month,” Kye said, which surprised me.
Ashton had said he’d been in the States a month but from their
obvious bond I’d assumed they’d known each other longer. “Our
girlfriends are besties, so since Ashton came over with Dani for
his first art show, we’ve been hanging around a lot.”

Ashton raised his beer in Kye’s direction.
“But lucky for me, I’ll be heading back to Melbourne in a few
weeks, leaving this funny man behind.”

“You’ll miss me,” Kye said, deadpan.

“Like a hole in the head,” Ashton muttered,
his amused gaze drawn to the door behind me. “Don’t look now,
Sheldon, but your balls just made an appearance.”

Kye elbowed Ashton and the artist winced a
little.

“About time the girls showed up,” Kye said,
waving. “Don’t worry, mate, they’ve brought a friend so you won’t
feel like a third wheel.”

Shit, this better not be some lame fix-up. I
wanted to have a few beers to unwind, not feel compelled to make
mindless small talk with some chick I wouldn’t see after
tonight.

“She’s a real hottie, too,” Ashton said,
elbowing me. “Check her out.”

I glanced over my shoulder, the epitome of
casual, and froze.

Because I knew the petite redhead with the
killer bod striding toward me. Knew her intimately. And damned if
my cock didn’t harden at the memory.

Annabelle Cleary. The only good thing to come
out of Uppity-Doo. And one of the reasons I’d bolted as fast as I
goddamned could from that shithole town.

Kye bumped me. “What do you think?”

I am so screwed.