Page 19 of Pucking Around

“No idea,” I reply. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him all morning. “Where is he?”

Morrow just shrugs. “Don’t know. He wasn’t at morning meeting.”

He shuffles past me as I slip my phone from my pocket and shoot off a text.

CALEB (10:45AM): Where the fuck are you? Exhibition game starts at 11.

Immediately there are dots at the bottom of my screen.

JAKE (10:45AM): Aww, you miss me, baby? Need something pretty to look at?

I snort, shaking my head. But then my mind flashes to images of a face much prettier than his…a face with dark eyes, long, dark lashes, and pouty lips. A face framed by walnut brown hair and accented with a little gold septum ring. She took it out this morning. It was the first thing I noticed when she opened the door.

Conjuring up the image of Rachel does more. Now it’s like I can feel her all over again, pressed up against me so close we were practically sharing one skin. I feel her heartbeat thumping against my own ribs, feel the smoothness of her skin against my hands—her sides, her bare ass.

Fuck, I almost lost it when I realized she was wearing nothing but a thong, climbing over the balcony like a damn monkey. She’s fearless. Crazy. A total hurricane.

I’m not gonna lie, for a moment there I thought she might kiss me. That would have been a huge fucking mistake. After six years of dealing with all my physical and emotional bullshit, I’m still a goddamn mess. I’d be no good for anyone, least of all a coworker with whom I now share a wall.

I raise my phone and snap a picture of J-Lo while he’s still got his shirt off. His chest of curly black hair is on full display.

CALEB (10:48AM): Nah, I’ve got this cuddly bear to keep me warm.

Jake immediately dislikes the message. Moments later my phone pings.

JAKE (10:49AM): If you leave me for J-Lo, I swear I’m gonna walk into oncoming traffic

My phone pings with a photo. It’s a closeup of him, hat pulled low over his face. He’s scowling. In the background above his head, I can just make out the words on a sign.

CALEB (10:50AM): Why the hell are you at the DMV?

My phone rings and I answer, tucking it under my ear as I start the process of organizing the locker room. It always looks like a tornado blasted through whenever the guys use it.

“Man, don’t get me started,” Jake mutters.

“What happened?” I nod at Jerry, the other assistant equipment manager. We both get to work straightening things up.

Jake groans. “Apparently, whichever genius helped me the last time messed up my fuckin’ ID. Flipped my birthdate around.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, I think Vicki was ready to cancel my contract if I didn’t come get it fixed. She’s been hounding me for like two weeks. I just kept forgetting.”

“Are you missing this game then?”

“Yeah, we all gotta keep Vic happy, right?”

“Totally,” I reply, tossing a used banana peel in the trash.

He groans again. “There’s still like a thousand people ahead of me in this line. And hey, you never told me what happened with this new doc. What’s her name again?”

The group chat has been blowing up for the last hour as news of Rachel’s presence spread. Novy was the first in the chat with a ‘whoa, hot doc alert.’ Since then, the guys have been playing ‘hot doc spotted.’ I think based on the last ping she’s somewhere over in the PT suite.

“Uhhh…nothing else happened,” I say, lying through my teeth.

I told him about the dildo. I don’t know why I’m not telling him about the balcony. There was just something about it…her vulnerability at the end. It was funny until it wasn’t. I feel protective over her.

“Oh, shit—hey, they just called my number. Gotta go.”