Page 14

“I know you can.” Parker winks before handing me the manila folder he was just looking through. “Why don’t you go say hello to the player in the locker room? Figure out which one of those he is and why the hell he’s here so early.”

I flip through the folder, noticing Cole’s profile in the mix. I’m not the least bit ready to face him again. Actually, that’s a lie. My mind is ready to face him, but my libido may have other plans.

“You got it, boss.” I wink at him before tucking the folder under my arm.

“What did I say about you calling me that?”

“That you want me to do it every chance I get?”

“Get the hell out of my office and do your job,” Parker shouts as I swallow down a laugh before heading out of his office and into the locker room.

The locker room looks exactly the same as it always has, but also different at the same time. The space is serene, missing the chaos the room always brings. The air is clean, almost sterile like a hospital, instead of like sweat and the sharp bite of menthol from all the muscle rub that players use to soothe their aches and pains before and after games. Every surface is clean, no piles of gear and jerseys lying on the scuffed benches. The only thing out of place is the man, crouched down in front of a locker, digging into his hockey bag.

Inhaling deeply, I throw my shoulders back, chin raised slightly as I stroll toward him. I plaster a smile on my face, although inside I’m silently freaking out. First impressions are lasting impressions, right? This will be my first interaction with anyone on the team. I need to make a good impression to set the tone for the season.

“I can do this,” I mumble to myself, just as the man stands to his full height, stopping me in my tracks.

Tall. Broad. Shirtless. Tattoos across his shoulder and ribs—lines of ink that looked like they were meant to be read in silence cover his back. My mouth waters as I watch his muscles tighten, pulling a set of shoulder pads over his head, covering his gorgeous tattoos. Who the fuck knew a back could be so tempting? I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when he turns around.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” He chuckles before turning around, our eyes locking instantly.

Fuck me. My cheeks heat for what feels like the millionth time in the last hour as I tuck a few strands of my hair behind my ear, my eyes looking anywhere but at the man I’ve been dreaming about nonstop since he asked me out a few weeks ago. Of course, I couldn’t have had any lead-up to seeing Cole Hendrix again. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, I’m caught ogling him in the middle of the locker room on my first day of work. Just fucking peachy.

“Hello, Michele.” The gravelly tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine, but I don’t say a word. I’ve apparently forgotten how to speak or do anything else but stand here and stare at Cole. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I manage to nod my head and smile, but still don’t say anything.

“How did you know I’d be here?” He turns, grabbing one of the white practice jerseys from the hook and sliding it over his head, covering all his delicious muscles and jump-starting my brain.

“I didn’t know, per se,” I squeak, trying to think of something to say.

I can do this. He’s just a guy who flirted with me a few weeks ago, nothing more, nothing less. He probably doesn’t even remember asking me out.

Then why is he looking at you like you’re something to eat? Shut up, brain. You aren’t helping the situation.

Cole Hendrix and I are nothing to each other. It was a chance meeting with some light flirting between two adults, but that’s all it is. Was. Because now, it can’t be anything else. He’s my newest patient, a professional hockey player who is working to rehabilitate after a major injury, and probably wants nothing more than to get his dick wet once or twice before disappearing.

“It’s good to know you aren’t stalking me. You’re too gorgeous to go to jail.” His voice glides over my skin like silk, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Hello,” I squeak out, his warm brown eyes locking with mine.

We both just stand there, staring at each other like two lunatics. Cole reaches up and brushes a piece of hair off my face, smiling softly down at me. I’ve never wanted there to be a locker room full of smelly and loud hockey players than I do right now. Instead, there isn’t a sound in the room, just the two of us in our own little bubble of bliss. I should say something, break the silence, but I can’t do anything but drink him in. Cole Hendrix is even more delicious in person than he was in my dreams.

He’s obviously been working out more since the last time I saw him, no doubt attempting to prepare for the start of the season. His arms are bulkier than when I last saw him, both about the size of my head. It would take little effort for him to toss me around like a potato sack, even given my size. I’m not what you’d call petite, probably closer to the size of an actual sack of potatoes than anything else.

“How’s the shoulder?” I motion toward his injured arm with my chin, but my eyes remain locked on the center of his chest.

I’m barely 5’2”. Yes, I’m short, compared to Cole being well over six feet, by my estimation. He’s over a foot taller than me at least, which any other day would bother me, but today I plan on using it to my advantage. I can’t risk falling under his spell a second time if I want to explain the situation to him. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to do it.

“Good.” He smirks, his eyebrow raising in question. Probably wondering if I have anything else to say to him, like to explain why the heck I’m standing in the Timberwolves locker room, staring at him.

“Good, that's good.”

Cole’s hand slides down the side of my face before gripping my chin and raising it. My eyes flick up to his before focusing on something in the locker over his shoulder. “My eyes are up here, gorgeous.”

His eyes scan my face as if he’s committing me to memory before his lips stretch into a blinding smile, and two perfectly shaped dimples appear on his cheeks. Why the hell does he have to have dimples? Like he couldn’t just be gorgeous and untouchable.The Lord above had to bless this man with dimples, as well. This shit just isn't fair.

Someone clears their throat loudly from beside me, breaking our trance, and we jump apart. Well, I jump. Cole’s eyebrows pull down in confusion as he looks between me and the newcomer. I need to speak and finish explaining myself, but our guest beats me to it.

“I see you’ve met your new physiotherapist.” Parker wraps his arms around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “This is Michele. She and I are in charge of getting you back into shape and on the ice with your brothers.”

“In charge of my case?” he questions. The warmth leeches out of his voice, suddenly becoming more gravelly than charming.

I nod my head, a forced smile spreading across my face as I step out of Parker’s embrace. “I’m the new physiotherapist.”

“Great,” he responds, his face completely devoid of emotion.

Fuck. This isn’t how I expected things to go. Not that I really had any expectations of seeing him again. I had hoped he’d at least have given me time to explain.

“Michele will go over your workout plan with you. If you have questions, you can stop by my office, but she’s your primary point of contact.”

Cole doesn’t look at Parker, his eyes remaining focused on me. Instead of the warm and flirty looks from earlier, his eyes are cold and calculating.

“No need to worry. You’ll be in excellent hands with Michele,” Parker says, patting Cole on the shoulder before turning to head back into his office.

Parker hasn’t even turned the corner before Cole growls, “Is Stacey really your friend?”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, Michele. Is Stacey really your friend or not?”

What the hell does Stacey have to do with any of this? Sure, she was his primary therapist at the hospital therapy center, but that’s it. I talked to her about his case when I discovered he was going to be one of my patients here, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. According to her, he is more than ready to get back on the ice and start training again. I’m not so sure. Cole might look okay on the outside, but I have a feeling the insides are a little more damaged than anyone knows. Thankfully, the team and Parker agree with me.

“Yes, she’s my best friend, but I doubt that has anything to do with this situation.” I arch my eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes flick down to my breasts for a moment, before locking on mine. “It has everything to do with this situation. So, how long have you known my brother?”

“Your brother? Which one?”

That answer must have caught him off guard for half a second—just a flicker in his eyes—but then his mouth curls, not into a smile exactly. More like... respect. Or the start of it.

“Any of them, if I’m being honest,” he says, but doesn’t say another word.

“You aren’t making any sense, Cole. What exactly is your fucking problem with me working here? You didn’t seem to give a shit about me being your therapist when you were trying to get into my pants.”

Cole doesn’t say a word. He just stands there, arms crossed, posture like a brick wall. “A mistake I won’t be making again.”

I wince slightly, but not enough for him to notice, or at least I hope not. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, then, Hendrix. Too bad I’m the only thing standing between you and getting back into the starting lineup.”

Cole points his finger in the air, spinning around in a circle. “Whoopie.”

So I guess this is how it’s going to be between us from now on. Keeping things between Cole and me in the friend zone is going to be easier said than done.

I glance down at my watch, noticing the time as I give him a once-over. “You can take those pads off. You aren’t getting anywhere near the ice until I assess that shoulder.”

The way he keeps tugging on his shoulder pads suggests his shoulder is bothering him a lot more than he’s letting on. My mind was more occupied by his physique than his incision when I first walked into the room.

“Is this going to be a problem?” I ask, motioning between us with my hand. “This is my job, nothing personal.”

“No problem at all. You?”

“Nope. Now take off your jersey and pads so I can have a look at that incision.”

He doesn’t move or even blink as I stand here, trying desperately not to fidget in place. Cole looks the picture of ease as he continues staring at me like he’s trying to peel away my skin and read whatever’s underneath. But finally, he relents, pulling the jersey over his head and shrugging off the pads with jerky, irritated movements, then lets them hit the bench beside him with a loud thud. “Fine. Do your assessment, Doc.”

“I’m not a doctor,” I mutter, stepping closer, but my voice is calm, professional, even if my pulse is hammering in my ears. I can do this. It is just a routine assessment. I’ll check his incision and range of motion to see if he can suit up for practice today. Easy peasy.

“Close enough,” he grits out, my eyes focusing on his Adam's apple as he swallows loudly. His eyes flare with heat, and not the good kind. The kind that burns if you’re the person on the receiving end.

“Can you take a seat, please?”

“Anything for you, Doc.” He winks, dropping onto the bench behind him.

“I told you—” I begin before gritting my teeth.

Cole is trying to get a rise out of me, probably as punishment for some manufactured slight in his mind, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. After taking a deep, cleansing breath, I kneel beside him and begin the shoulder assessment. I run my fingers along the incision, pressing lightly and trying hard not to focus on the way his skin feels beneath my fingers. I need to keep things clinical and detached, but his skin is warm, and I feel his gaze drilling into the top of my head like he’s willing me to look up. I don’t, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.

“Any pain when I do this?” I ask, lifting his arm slowly.

He grunts. “Only when you’re this close.”

I finally meet his eyes, irritation flaring in mine. “You’re going to need to get over it, and fast. Nothing happened between us.”

“Not for lack of trying, Michele.” He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “However, I don’t think getting over you was ever my problem.”

My hand stills as I duck my head, not wanting him to see how much his statement affected me. I knew deep down that I was nothing special to him. He was flirting with me for sure, but it meant nothing to him. Just another chance at a passing fling, a girl to warm his bed until he found someone else. A part of me had hoped Cole was different, and I’d like to say I am surprised he isn't. I have a job to do.

“Michele,” Cole whispers, his lips brushing against the top of my head.

I could easily look up, brush my lips against his, and see if a proper kiss from him is better than my imagination, but I don’t. Silence hangs between us, thick and cracking with tension, before I rock back on my heels, breaking the tension before it can swallow us both.

“Looks like your rehab has been going well. Not everyone continues with their exercises after being discharged from therapy.”

“Not everyone has their entire career riding on whether their injury heals as quickly as possible.”

“We’ll work on mobility exercises this week, and if you're feeling up to it, some light strength training,” I say, voice cool and sharp as I make a mental note of some questions for Parker. “You’ll follow my plan exactly, or you won’t skate. Period.”

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locked with mine. “What if I don’t want to follow your plan?”

I raise a brow. “Then you can enjoy the view from the press box while the rest of your team fights for the Cup.”

His jaw tenses, but he says nothing. Just watches me like he’s looking for cracks in my armor, but he won’t find any. I let him slip past my guard during treatment at the therapy center, but it won’t happen again. I won’t let it, for both our sakes.

“Meet you in the training room to go over your treatment plan, Hendrix. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Before I can leave, his voice follows me. “I won’t. Not this time.”