Making a Comeback. Kristina Mathews

first few questions were straightforward. Her name, age, and occupation. She only stumbled a little on the occupation question. For a long time, she’d been nothing more than a wife and mother.

      “I’m a model,” she finally answered. “Or at least, I was.”

      She reached up to touch the bandage on her face. “How bad is it? I know it will leave a scar, but…”

      It felt like her face was cut from her left temple to her jaw. That’s where it hurt the most. But she might have a smaller cut or two above her eyebrow and across her cheek.

      “I won’t lie to you. It’s going to look pretty bad right now. There will be a lot of redness and swelling. You won’t look like yourself for a few days.” The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “But you’ll improve steadily over the next several weeks.”

      Annabelle wanted to see, but had a feeling she wouldn’t like what she saw.

      “Let’s take a look, shall we?” The doctor pulled up a chair and started unwrapping the gauze around Annabelle’s head. “Not bad. It looks like a clean wound.”

      “But it will leave a scar?”

      “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

      “That’s not going to help my modeling career.” Annabelle hated how disappointed she sounded. Almost whiney.

      “Tell me about what happened today,” the doctor said as she applied a fresh bandage. This one was smaller, and it didn’t cover her eye. “What do you remember about the accident, and what you did earlier in the day?”

      Annabelle recalled snippets of time. Sitting in a chair having her makeup done. Wardrobe changes. Bright lights and the clicks of the camera. A typical day as a model. She’d done her first Sports Illustrated issue when she was only nineteen. Had it been ten years already? Somehow today’s shoot had felt new and exciting, like the first time, only better. Her agent had set her up on a photo shoot with a small upscale boutique in Aurelia Beach. The ads would run in a regional magazine, distributed at restaurants, hotels, and businesses throughout Orange County, giving her plenty of exposure. She’d hoped it would be enough to re-launch her career.

      She sank back against the pillow, trying to gather more details from the foggy corners of her mind.

      “I was on my way to a photo shoot.” It was like that dream. The one where she was running in slow motion, only instead of her feet, it was her brain that felt stuck in quicksand. “No. I was on my way home. I had done my job and I was going to meet the school bus.”

      “But you didn’t meet the bus?”

      “No. I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye.” And then crunching metal. Broken glass. So much blood. “It must have been the car that hit me.”

      Annabelle closed her eyes, hoping the picture would form in her mind. But she was tired. So tired.

      “Can I go home?” she asked again, weary of the hospital. Of the questions that seemed much harder than they should be. “I just want to go home.”

      “Do you have someone staying with you?” the doctor asked.

      “My daughters live with me.” She sensed that wasn’t the right answer, but it was the honest one.

      “I’m afraid I can’t release you unless you have a responsible adult who can keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

      “I can’t think of anyone who could stay with me.” If she was in San Francisco, she could call Hunter. No, she was still on her honeymoon. They would be coming to Aurelia Beach in a few days on their way home.

      “What about the man who is here to pick you up?”

      “Cooper? He’s my neighbor.” And she couldn’t just ask him to stay overnight with her. Not when she was such a mess.

      “He’ll need to stay with you. Next door isn’t close enough.”

      “I couldn’t impose like that.” Especially since she wasn’t sure where they stood. He’d said they were friends, but there was something more between them. Something she couldn’t act on.

      “Okay, then we’ll just admit you overnight.”

      “No. Wait.” If she didn’t go home, who would watch her girls? If she couldn’t ask Cooper to babysit her, she certainly couldn’t ask him to look after her children. “I’m sure he’ll stay with me. I’ll ask him.”

      Chapter 3

      It was nearly nine o’clock by the time Annabelle had been cleared to go home—on one condition—he would have to stay with her overnight. How many times had he imagined spending the night with Annabelle Jones? But this wasn’t exactly the scenario that had fueled his fantasies.

      It was a good thing he’d thought to bring her a change of clothes. Hers were ruined in the accident. Cooper thought he’d been practical in selecting a soft velvety yoga outfit for Annabelle. He figured she’d want to be comfortable. And he hadn’t wanted to spend too much time going through her wardrobe. It was bad enough he’d had to look in her underwear drawer, but since he didn’t possess the ability to teleport her clothing to the hospital for her, he’d had to pack by picking up her things and putting them in a suitcase. He’d thrown the first pair of underwear he found into a small duffel bag along with a tank top, some socks, and the light blue yoga pants with matching jacket.

      He’d found a pair of slip-on walking shoes. It was the kind of outfit he’d seen on plenty of women in Target at eleven on a weekday. Casual, comfortable, and just right for running errands and grabbing coffee after their morning workout.

      On Annabelle, it was sexy as hell. The soft fabric hugged her every curve. She’d pulled the hood up over her head, probably trying to hide her injury. It only made him want to slowly lift the veil of her hoodie and kiss every single stitch.

      Sophie and Olivia were extra careful around her. He’d warned them she might be sore, so they should be gentle. He was surprised at how well they’d followed his suggestion.

      “Thank you for coming to pick me up.” She turned away from him, so that the left side of her face was in the shadow of her hoodie. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. For this and for staying with me.”

      “What are neighbors for?” He shrugged, not wanting to think about how she could repay him. When she was recovered from her injuries, of course, he would never take advantage of her in her fragile state.

      “Loaning me a couple of eggs, picking up the newspaper when I go out of town for the weekend.” She gave him a half smile. He wasn’t sure if it was because the other side of her face hurt or because she was unsure of herself. “Not picking me up from the hospital, bringing me a change of clothes, and spending the night with me.”

      “What can I say? I’m an excellent neighbor.” He flashed his cockiest Nathan Cooper grin. The one he’d used for interviews, pickups, and most famously, his shutdown strut.

      Damn. He wasn’t that man anymore. The last interview he’d done had been given with the somber expression of a ballplayer who didn’t know if he’d ever pitch again. He knew pain. He knew scars. And he knew this was the worst time to even think about trying to get Annabelle into his bed.

      “I don’t know, you do play your guitar late at night.” She gave him a teasing smile. A moment of connection passed between them. She’d been listening to him when he sat on his porch, picking out tunes, trying to figure out what he was going to do if baseball wasn’t in his future.

      “I’ll try to keep it down.”

      “I like your music. It’s…comforting.” She lowered her voice, as if she was sharing a secret. “It makes me feel… Like I’m not so alone.”

      He didn’t like thinking of her as being lonely. He didn’t want to think of her as anything