Call Me Wild by Robin Kaye Read Free Book Online

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    “Do you want a water?”
    Fisher wiped the sweat from his face onto the hem of his T-shirt. “Right now, I’d drink sand.”
    She dug into a hidden pocket in her shorts, pulled out a key, and motioned for him to follow. “I’ll get a few waters, but then I need to stretch. You can come in if you like, but I stretch on the porch.”
    “I’ll wait here since you’re coming back out.” He wanted to collapse on the porch swing hanging from the rafters—just not in front of her.
    “Okay, I’ll only be a minute.”
    “Take your time.” He’d need more than a minute just to keep from embarrassing himself.
    ***
    Jessie let the screen door slam behind her. It was such a nice day; she had all the windows open. Indian Summer had hit Boise with a vengeance, and she was going to enjoy the heck out of it. As she passed the open window, she heard Fisher groan as if in pain. She looked out to find him bending over with his hands braced above his knees, looking as if he was about to puke.
    She was surprised he’d been able to keep up with her, and frankly, she was surprised she’d been able to run like she had today. She was way too competitive for her own good, pushing herself harder than she had even at the Marine-inspired boot camp she’d gone to for an article she’d written.
    Jessie grabbed a few ice-cold waters and headed back to the porch. By the time she’d gotten out there, she was happy to see that Fisher had straightened up and was stretching his calf muscles on the bottom step.
    She jumped off the porch to hand him his water. Fire shot from her knee to her hip. “Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she belted out the all-time worst of her curses. Her left hamstring seized—not cramped. She’d had cramps before. The damn thing seized.
    “Jessica, you okay?”
    “Fuckity, fuckity, fuck.” She saw spots for the second time in her life. She was seeing spots, and surfer dude had to be the only living witness. She hopped on her right foot as pain shot from her ass all the way down to her foot.
    Fisher dropped his water and grabbed her instead.
    This was just great—not to mention incredibly embarrassing.
    “Lie down.”
    “What?”
    “It’s your hamstring, right?”
    “Well, duh.”
    “Lie down. You need to stretch it out.” The man tackled her, and the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the grass with her leg up, and her ankle resting in his right hand as he bent over her, his bright green eyes staring into hers.
    Talk about déjà vu. It was a freakin’ replay of her dream. She was still writhing beneath him, only the take-me-now tingles had been replaced with searing pain.
    “Breathe.” Strong hands massaged her calf, moving higher—all the way to her ass and back again. She would have kicked him if she was able to move her leg and wasn’t about to scream in agony. He stretched it a little farther with each pass of his hands from calf to ass, and it was all she could do to keep from crying. “Better?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    Of course, he was right, but she’d die before she admitted it. If anyone should be on the ground writhing in pain, it should be him. Okay, so she was pouting, it wasn’t her finest hour. “What are you, an expert or something?”
    “On women’s legs?” He shot her a breathtaking smile that was a mixture of smug and sexy, making her wonder if he was enjoying her embarrassment or picturing her naked, maybe both. “You bet.”
    “Why am I not surprised?” Yeah, Fisher’s smile was definitely smexy . She’d just coined a new word—one of her favorite things, but even that didn’t make her feel any better—a true testament to her pain level.
    “What you need is a banana, Gatorade, and a hot tub—not necessarily in that order. Do you have any of the above?”
    “What do you think?” She sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed against her inner thigh way too close to home plate, not that it seemed to register on his