Page 4

Chapter 4

Piper

I had tried not to smile. I really had. His answer was ridiculous, and I would not be calling him The Zeke Man, but seeing his demeanor change, the weight he seemed to carry around him disappear, and that smile had made my stomach flip, too hard to resist. The person he’d been the first day he’d walked into the physical therapy room was finally back after being gone for the last month.

My evaluation had really messed with his head, and although there was a small part of me that felt bad for him, I’d had to tell the truth. It didn’t surprise me that he had taken the news about his body aging hard, but I also hadn’t expected for him to change from what the media claimed was a fun-loving guy to a grump in a matter of minutes.

Yes, I had known who Zeke Lawson was before he had stepped foot in this room. Anyone who watched hockey knew who he was. Not only was he a great right wing, his looks had definitely made him popular. Add the fact that he had traded teams a fair amount in his career, which had caused his name to be thrown around in the hockey world as people wondered what team he would be going to next. I never thought he would come to the Minnesota Wolves. Not because he wasn’t good enough, but I had never entertained the thought of having him be one of my athletes.

I might have had a tiny crush on him over the years. Nothing substantial, more of a celebrity crush kind of thing. I’d had one for Crew Anderson too, but he was retired and engaged now. Funnily enough, he and Zeke were from the same town and had grown up playing on the same team, the Glacier Gators. I guessed the small town of Glacier Grove produced hot hockey players.

Interestingly, I’d never had a crush on Jordan before I met him. He was cute enough to have been on my radar as a fan but he’d never captured my attention before he started showing interest in me.

I had not been looking forward to the Blue Jays coming to play tonight, but it was a necessary evil. It had been my dumb decision to get involved with a hockey player, and now I had to deal with the consequences. I hadn’t expected him to show up in my physical therapy room though.

After our breakup, he had badgered me with so many calls and texts that I’d had to block his number. He’d then resorted to begging during our therapy sessions. It had been torture. It never made sense to me why he wanted to get back together so badly when he obviously wanted to be with other women. I had figured he’d be happy to be rid of me and go have his fill of women. To my disappointment, that hadn’t been the case.

Thankfully, leaving the Blue Jays had helped, and I hadn’t seen Jordan in months. And I would only see him now whenever his team played the Wolves. That and the occasional charity hockey event.

But seeing him today in the doorway had rattled me. I’d felt no desire to take him back. That ship had sailed—and sunk. But I was still unsettled that he felt like he could show up whenever he wanted. Add in that our entire exchange had taken place in front of Zeke, and I had been more than flustered. I’d also been embarrassed. My mistake of dating a professional athlete while being his physical therapist was embarrassing enough, but to then have my dirty laundry aired out in front of someone else was humiliating.

“So,” Zeke said, breaking through my thoughts. “You and Tuvalo, huh?”

Ugh. I should have known he’d want to talk about what had happened.

“Yep.” I kept my answer short, focusing on his knee, working through the range of motion.

“I wouldn’t have thought Jordan was your type.” I could feel his eyes on me while he spoke.

I bent his leg. “I don’t have a type.”

“Oh, sure you do,” he said. “Everyone has a type, whether they recognize it or not. And you definitely have a type.”

I eyed him as I straightened out his leg, completely disagreeing. “Oh, really? And you happen to know what my type is?”

“Of course I do.” He said it with so much confidence that I almost believed him.

Curious to see what he would say, I asked, “Okay, then. What’s my type?”

His fingers stroked his chin like he was deep in thought. “Let’s see. I’m thinking you like your men tall, about 6-foot-3. You prefer dark hair, and if it has some curl to it, even better.”

I glanced up at his dark hair—which definitely had some curl to it—I knew for a fact that he was 6-foot-3. I was seeing a pattern here.

“You find a strong build attractive, and you like your men to be athletic,” he continued as if I hadn’t caught on to what he was doing. “Oh, and I can’t forget how you are a sucker for blue eyes, a cleft in the chin, and a guy who can make you smile.”

Okay, I’d fallen right into that. I should have known he would describe himself, thinking he was so funny.

I bent his leg again, leaning in with what I hoped was a mischievous glint in my eye. “You forgot weighs 215 pounds, is four years older than me, and is a relentless flirt.”

His eyes seemed to brighten at my playfulness. “So you’re saying I’m your type.” A smirk spread across his lips. “I’m flattered.”

I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t. But a laugh escaped me regardless.

“You’re impossible.” I straightened his leg and placed it down, rounding the table and going to work on his other knee.

“Impossibly tempting,” he said with a wink.

I gave him a pointed stare, hoping I could sell the words I was about to tell him. “Not even a little bit.”

“Ouch,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “Did you not just see what happened? There is nothing—no one—who could tempt me to date a hockey player again, especially not one on the team, whom I work with as their physical therapist. I have no desire to do that again. I learned my lesson the first time.”

And I meant it. I would not put myself in that situation again. No guy was worth risking my career over. I had gotten lucky that a position with the Wolves had opened up when it had.

Bending his leg, I continued, “Don’t you have plenty of other women to keep you busy? I can’t be the only person you feel the need to flirt with.”

I had a feeling Zeke had a flirtatious personality. All of this probably didn’t have anything to do with me personally. But I was also curious to see if I could gain any insider information about his dating life. Why? I don’t know. I was curious. This hockey-famous, good-looking man intrigued me. So sue me.

“Not all hockey players are womanizers.” His face was a mixture of annoyance and hurt. “Especially the older ones, like me. You realize that a lifestyle like that gets monotonous pretty fast.”

“For as much as you hate being referred to as old, you sure call yourself that a lot,” I remarked with a small smile.

“Isn’t that how you see me?”

I set his leg down and took a moment to look at him, letting my eyes glide over him. His dark hair was almost dry from his shower, the ends still damp and curling up around his ears. His shoulders were broad and muscular, his pecs stretching the fabric of the black t-shirt he wore, his waist tapering down to a V…

And that is where my perusal needed to end. Tension seemed to crackle, and the room, which had once felt spacious, now felt confining.

I looked away and cleared my throat, returning my focus to his knee. There was nothing sexy about a knee. Right? At least right now his leg was covered by pants. But I wouldn’t put it past Zeke to have sexy knees.

“I don’t see you as old,” I finally said, hoping he hadn’t noticed how I’d gotten all hot and bothered ogling him. “I would use the word…mature.” I flashed him what I hoped was a teasing grin. I needed to break the tension and get things back to a more professional vibe.

My word choice had him chuckling. “Mature? I think we can both agree that calling myself ‘The Zeke Man’ is anything but mature.”

His answer surprised me, and I found myself laughing again. “True.” I tapped his hip. “Turn on your side, and we’ll get to work on your hip.”

He did as he was told, but having him turned toward me seemed more intimate than when he had been on his back.

I mentally slapped myself. Intimate? There was nothing intimate about my job . I worked with men all the time and not once had that word ever crossed my mind.

I was probably just having an off day. What with Jordan showing up and then Zeke being all flirty, it was too much for me to handle at the end of the day.

I instructed him to push into a side plank, raising up his hips, while lifting his outside leg up and down.

“Lift your hip a little higher,” I said, and watched him follow my instructions. “Wow, what a difference it makes to have you not fight me on every single exercise.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, you most definitely were,” I disagreed. I lowered my voice to mimic his. “I don’t need to do these exercises. I work out all the time. I am a buff strong man.” He hadn’t actually said the last phrase, but I found myself wanting to tease him anyway.

He continued doing the exercise. “Glad we can both agree that I’m a buff strong man.” He gave me a cheeky grin.

I rolled my eyes at him in return but had to keep reprimanding myself for admiring his forearm and bicep that was on display as he used them to help hold up his body weight. Why were sinewy forearms so enticingly attractive?

Maybe I needed to cut this therapy session short. My brain was going haywire. I needed to go home, get a good night’s rest, and regroup.

Another reason to add to my list of not liking hockey players—they make me lose my sanity and rationale. It wasn’t like me to be acting this way, and I blamed Zeke for my momentarily unstable hormones.

I had him do a few more exercises before calling our session. “That’s enough for tonight. We’ll do more tomorrow after practice.”

He stood up from the table. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Oh, I’m not a doctor,” I corrected.

“You might not have the degree, but as much as it might pain me to say this, you’ve helped me more than any other doctor.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I know what I’m doing?”

“Yes.” His eyes zeroed in on me, an intensity in them that had my body humming. “You’re very good with your hands.”

My mouth opened in shock at his words, heat creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks. Had he really just said that?

He winked at me again. “Good night, Piper.”

I stood there, still in shock, as he walked out of the room, his low chuckle reaching my ears.

My hands went to my cheeks, feeling the heat there.

I think I liked it better when he was silent and broody.