Page 4 of Expiry Dating

“Stop. Just stop.” He quickly dodged her flailing arms. “I don’t want to have coffee with you, Brady. In fact, I would rather bathe in scolding hot coffee than share one with you.”

“Now who’s not being nice?”

A ridiculously cute growl escaped her lips while she stomped her foot onto the ground. Actually stomped. After that, he just couldn’t help himself. He tried, he really did, but he couldn’t halt the laugh that was soon making his whole body vibrate.

“Are you about done laughing at me?”

“Sorry, darlin’, you’re just so damn cute when you’re angry.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally decided on her parting words. “Go to hell, Brady.”

This time he didn’t follow. He simply admired the view.

Yeah. I’m going to hell all right.

***

Just a week after Brady had convinced himself he was going to hell, he finally made it there. The VA Clinic. There wasn’t much fire and brimstone, but there was certainly a whole lot of dread.

Pocketing the keys to his truck, he reluctantly made his way toward the building. It was one of those ultra-modern new buildings. Soulless. Bleak. And pretty hell-like.

Excellent.

He’d skipped his physio appointments for the past month and would have continued to happily skip them if his new boss hadn’t threatened him with desk duty.

After checking in with the receptionist, Brady took a seat in the waiting room where he was assaulted by a homage to beige and brown. It was almost as if they wanted the place to look just as depressing as he felt.

Yeah, that’s why you don’t like coming here: you’re offended by the décor.

He used the time to try and compartmentalize his thoughts. It had been almost seven months since he’d woken up in a hospital bed only to be handed his discharge papers. But being here, surrounded by other veterans, his resentment was starting to bubble to the surface again. New career or not, a marine was who he was. Who he’d always be.

Get your shit together, man.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

As his eyes took in the sight of those familiar hips swaying toward him, Brady realised that getting his shit together wasn’t going to be so simple. Not with his nerve endings now pulsating.

What the hell is she doing here?

As Alice came to a standstill before him, he took in the view from head to toe. It was good to know her signature frown was firmly in place. What wasn’t firmly in place, though, was one of her many flowery dresses. No, she was dressed in workout clothes, and not just any workout clothes. Yoga pants, to be exact, that clung to every perfectly sculpted curve, so perfect that he thought he might choke on his tongue. It wasn’t just the pants causing his mouth to dry up, though. The cropped tank top showcasing the silky, smooth bare skin across her midriff was doing a pretty good job of that too.

“Brady ...? Brady ...? Hello?”

A hard shove of his shoulder snapped him back to reality.

“Shit, sorry. What are you doing here, Ali?”

Alice tilted her head and quietly studied him. “I’m your new physical therapist. Why didn’t I know you were doing PT?”

She’s my what?!

“Like hell you are.” Brady shot out of his seat, ready to educate the receptionist on all the reasons why Alice Hart would not be his new physical therapist.

Before he could even take his first stride, a soft hand on his chest sent a zing of electricity so strong it coursed through his whole body. It was so powerful, it had him freezing in his tracks.

“Brady. Why don’t we go in the back and talk about this?” Her tone was almost soothing. He’d never witnessed her so calm. It was her eyes, though, that convinced him to follow her. Those deep blue pools were gentle and not helping with his now very urgent need for water.

A silent nod and a short walk from reception later, he found himself in her therapy room. He didn’t immediately sit. He planned on getting some answers first.

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