Page 5 of Deking at Love
Without answering, she pivoted and fetched a cold gel pack she slipped inside a fabric sleeve and strapped to his ankle.“Comfy?”
“Don’t I get a pillow or something for my head?”
She snagged a pillow from a cabinet and gave herself a virtual pat on the back for handing it to him rather than giving in to the urge to hurl it at his face.
As he stuffed the pillow under his head, his bicep bunched like he was flexing it in that way men did when they were showing off.Except he wasn’t doing it on purpose.Eyes trained upward, he lowered his other hand to his sculpted chest and tapped his long, tapered fingers.Corded veins crisscrossed the smooth skin of his forearm.He was quite a specimen, from his square shoulders to his flat stomach to the hockey-player quads that strained his sweats.
Ugh.
He muttered something under his breath, snapping her out of her inappropriate appraisal.
She cupped her ear.“What was that?”
His navy blues drilled into her, and he flashed her a syrupy smile.“I was just thanking you for taking my comfort into consideration.”
Why were the good-looking ones always assholes?
“Anytime,” she tossed back.Grabbing her tablet once more, she directed a barrage of questions at him.How did the injury happen?Had he felt a pop, a tear, a sharp pain, a dull ache?Numbness or tingling?How was the pain now that he was resting versus when he’d been upright moments ago?
He let out a humorless chuckle.“What is this, twenty questions?”
“No, twenty-three.Did you skate on it afterward, or were you helped off the ice?”
“I had help.How long has this ice pack been on?”
She tilted her wrist to check her watch.“Five minutes.Fifteen more to go.Let me ask you another question.”
A grunt.
“Are you always this whiny?”He turned his head, and his mouth parted in surprise.She continued with a satisfied smirk.“I only ask because we’re stuck together for at least the next six weeks, and I’d like to set up my treatment plan accordingly.Pro tip: The less pissy you are, the easier this will go for both of us.”
His eyes went wide.“Six weeks?Playoffs will be over in six weeks!”
“Not if the team goes deep,” she pointed out logically.
“Yeah, and by then someone else will have solidly kicked me out of my spot, and I’ll be stuck in a monkey suit watching from a suite.”
She pushed down the twinge of sympathy trying to work its way into her heart—into that cold, dead corner.She crinkled her nose.“Kinda sucks for you, huh?”
He cocked his head to the side.“You know what?This whole situation sucks.And I’m pretty sure you suck too.”The double meaning seemed to smack him at the same instant it ping-ponged inside her.His entire demeanor softened into something more conciliatory.“What I meant was, uh …”
Crossing her arms, she pushed an exasperated breath through her nostrils.“Do you want to get back on the ice this season or not?”
He bobbed his head.
“Then be nice.I’m your only hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
His mouth curled slightly.“That’s not good news, and I’ll tell you why, Princess Leia.I’ve been warned about you.You have a reputation.”
She arched an eyebrow.“Oh yeah?And what might that be?”
“I’m told you’re merciless.”
Her first instinct was to find out who’d been talking smack about her.She hadn’t been here that long, and besides, she prided herself on her skills as a physical therapist.Being labeled as “merciless” left a queasy feeling in her stomach, but she forced it down.“Only to people I don’t like.But don’t worry.I always give them a big stick to bite down on.”
His head flopped back down, and he raised his forearm and draped it over his eyes.His lips moved, and she was pretty sure he whispered, “Fuck!”Then he slid his arm off his face, rolled his head to the side, and looked up at her.“I thought this morning was going to be a simple consultation.You know, you ask your million questions—”
“Twenty-three,” she couldn’t stop herself from interjecting.
