He raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you want to say, Fox?”
“No, how about you?” he whispered. “Slept with Temple in the last forty-eight hours?”
“Only in Dax’s dreams. And maybe in that BDSM soft porn he was talking about.”
Fox snorted and rose. “You know, you told me you were only friends. Does she know that?”
Lucas also stood simply because he couldn’t stand the way his best friend was looking down on him right then. “Why do you care?” he hissed.
“I don’t want her running to her brothers because she’s angry at you.”
He laughed dryly. The idea was ridiculous. “You really don’t know her at all, do you?”
“Do you?” he said incredulously. “I thought you…”
“Fox, whatever you have to discuss, the press comes first,” Gray interrupted. “And, Moreau, you’re limping.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied automatically, turning around.
“Yes! Go see Temple and have her look at your knee when she’s done with Leon.”
“Coach, I…”
“No argument. Go.”
Luckily, the coach hadn’t introduced the swear jar yet.
Lucas had only seen Anna briefly in passing since Sunday. He’d kept his distance and she’d kept hers. He was rather certain they’d silently agreed that a purely platonic relationship was best.
The problem was that Lucas was always silently agreeing to things. Most people, though, needed words for that sort of thing, and he was afraid Anna was one of them. Yet he still thought it would be easier if they saw each other as little as possible. After all, they’d seen where time alone led.
That was exactly what he’d tell her. That they’d be amicable with each other, but maintain a polite distance. Women liked honesty, right? They didn’t care what you said as long as it was honest. Right?
Sighing, he rubbed his face and stopped in front of the door to the examination room…which was ajar.
“Ouch! Fuck!” Leon’s voice sounded from inside. “I should have known you’d prefer it hard and rough.”
“Shut up, Leon, I barely touched you.”
“Well, you’re allowed, you know?”
Lucas practically heard the eyebrow waggling in Leon’s voice, and his jaw tensed.
Anna sighed loudly. “Leon, really, you…”
“Ow! That’s cold.”
“It’s ice, Leon. It is cold.”
“Still.”
“I’m sorry it hurts,” Anna said, her voice considerably softer.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Leon,” she said seriously, “of course it is. Your shoulder is bruised and your arm movement is limited. I don’t know if I’ll be able to clear you for the next game…”
“You will! I’m fit!” he barked.
