Hard Limit (St. Louis Mavericks 2)

Chapter One

Sheridan

* * *

“This was a bad idea,” I muttered, staring out the window of the limousine as it inched through St. Louis traffic. “Maybe we should turn around and go home.” I turned to my best friend, Vanessa, and she quirked a brow at me.

“We’re not going home,” she said quietly, folding her arms across her chest. “I did not get all dressed up to sit at your place eating cheesecake. It’s going to be fun, Sheridan. You haven’t been out in over a year. It’s time and we both know it.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be in the spotlight. You know how mean the press can be and I’m not…the same.”

“Of course you’re the same!” Vanessa snapped.

“I’ve put on twenty pounds and the camera adds another ten, so—”

“You were in a life-threatening accident. It’s a miracle you’re not in a wheelchair. You’re going to walk in there tonight like the badass you’ve always been and own it. Besides, the focus tonight is the charity, not the celebrities who are going to the fundraiser.”

“I bought the table in your name,” I said. “So maybe no one even knows I’ll be there.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Would you stop? It’s going to be a blast. It’s a freakin’ bachelor auction! Of professional athletes! I’ve got a thousand dollars put away for Nash Reilly from the Mavericks.”

I laughed, relaxing for the first time all night. “I thought you were hot for that new pitcher for the Cardinals?”

“We’ll see which one strikes my fancy.” She arched her brows and grinned. “Maybe I’ll take both.”

“I could use a little fancy striking myself.” I sighed. “It’s been more than two years since I’ve had sex.”

Vanessa shuddered. “Jesus, woman, that’s a streak that needs to end right fucking now. You need to talk to your lawyer and—”

“Not tonight.” I held up a finger. “This is my first time out since the accident, and I just want to hang out and look at hot guys and have a glass of wine and laugh with my bestie. Can we do that?”

Her eyes met mine. “Absolutely.”

“Sheridan, do you want me to escort you right up to the front?” My driver-slash-bodyguard Flynn lowered the partition. Though I didn’t own the limo, we’d rented it so he could drive Vanessa and I to this event since he provided my security when I left home these days.

“The bulk of the press will be up front,” I protested.

“Dropping you at the front would allow you to walk the shortest distance though,” he pointed out.

I loved Flynn ninety-nine percent of the time. Right now, I hated him.

Because he was right.

“Okay. The front it is.” I stiffened my spine and sat up straighter.

I could do this.

I’d been through worse and wasn’t going to let a broken back derail the rest of my life. Even though it was turning out to be harder than I’d ever imagined.

He pulled into the lane for VIPs and flashed our pass to the security guard who waved him through. When he stopped the limo at the red carpet that led to the front entrance, a few dozen reporters surged forward, anxious to see who was getting out.

“Let’s go,” I told Vanessa. “But you first, okay?”

“I’m all about the attention!” she laughed, holding out her hand to Flynn, who had come around to the passenger side to help her out of the car. There were some camera flashes, but no one recognized Vanessa Cruz, my best friend since we were fifteen, the Chief Operating Officer of my new plus-size lingerie company, and the smartest woman I knew.

Flynn leaned back down and reached out a hand to me.

“You got this,” he said in a tone so low only I could hear.

I took a breath before letting him help me out of the limo. I tested my footing; I was wearing the highest heels I’d worn since the accident—rhinestone-covered sandals with two-inch wedge heels. I straightened up and smiled as the first flash went off. Then I heard the whispers.

“Holy shit, it’s Sheridan Lee!”

“Hey, Sheridan, look over here!”

“Sheridan, you look amazing!”

I smiled and waved, walking slower than I would have thirteen months ago but with an even, steady gait, the way my physical therapist had taught me. Learning to walk again as an adult was hard.

“Are you going to start modeling again?” someone called out.

“Sheridan, how’s your back?”

Luckily, we made it inside before I had to answer any questions and I exhaled heavily.

Okay, the first hurdle was a success. Now I could sit in a chair, have a glass of wine, and enjoy the auction, which I was actually looking forward to. I didn’t plan to bid on one of the bachelors, but I’d donate a few thousand to the cause. Anything to do with helping pediatric cancer patients was right up my alley.