Page 52 of Her Puck Daddies
The next day, after morning skate, I freeze in place when I spot Ava limping out of her office.
“What are you doing here?” The words slip out more forcefully than I mean, but damn it, I can’t help it. What the hell is she thinking?
Sheglares at me, eyes narrowing in defiance. “Uh, working?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen this side of her. There’s something sarcastic, even feisty, about her tone—and honestly, it’s kind of attractive. The way her brows furrow and her eyes widen makes me want to reach in, kiss her, and then scoop her up in my arms to take her home, where I can take care of her.
“I don’t think so,” I say, hurrying to her.
Before I know it, I’ve looped one arm behind her knees when she hisses at me like a snake. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You shouldn’t be here. You need to take it easy.” What the hell happened to R.I.C.E.? But her response is the opposite of what I expect.
“Levi didn’t take it easy withhisinjury.”
“That’s not the point here Ava. You’re not Levi. And you’re not a hockey player.”
“True. But I work with hockey players. Hockey players who need my services for the upcoming game.”
That game is in two days. But then again, we always have another game. That’s what the season’s all about.
“We can make do for a while,” I tell her firmly, but something about her has shifted. Any meekness I’ve ever noticed in her is gone.
“No, you can’t. You three skipping sessions with me before should’ve taught you that.”
Frustrated, I drag a hand through my hair. “I mean that we’ll survive. You need to heal. I thought you were going to rest. That’s what you told me yesterday, anyway.”
But she ignores my perfectly valid reference to our earlier conversation, as though I never said anything at all.
“I can use my hands. There’s nothing wrong with them.” She holds them up like weapons, and after the kind of deep tissue massages she’s given, they might as well be.
“Again, that’s not the point.” I gesture to her injured ankle, but she cuts me off.
“The point is that I’m here to do a job, and you’re not stopping me.” Ava hobbles back into her office, slamming the door in my face. I block it with my arm.
This isn’t over.
Chapter 19
AVA
Ican’t believe Sven is trying to mansplain my own fucking occupation to me like I’m some country bumpkin who just fell off the turnip truck. I’m the one who worked so hard to gain my certification, and I’m the one who has memorized every aspect of these men’s bodies so that I know what they need up on my table.
“It’s not that I’m trying to stop you from doing your job,” he explains as he pushes in behind me. Only once he’s inside my office with me does he shut the door. “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt further.”
Talk about the irony. These men play with blood dripping everywhere and broken limbs. I even read a story recently where on another team, one of them literally had a heart attack but kept going with severe pains radiating through his chest and down his left arm. There’s a difference between being a tough badass and ignoring obvious signs of distress.
It’s a wonder the man didn’t drop dead right in the middle of the rink. It sure would have been hard to win games then.
I could remind the captain that this is only a mild sprain, that I’m keeping it stabilized in a brace, or that if it starts to throb, I can always use my crutches—though I won’t mention how much those damn things make my underarms sore. Easy peasy.
But when I shift my weight, a sharp tweak shoots through my ankle, and I wince. My klutziness sends me off balance, and I have to grab onto my massage table to keep from toppling over.
Sven lets out a frustrated sound. “I don’t know how else to say this, but you’re being stubborn.”
Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle.
“It’s not stubbornness. I’m a grown woman with a job to do.” A job I’m damn well going to do whether he likes it or not. “So, if you don’t mind, I have another client I need to prepare for.”