Whoever put the note in Rhett’s locker had access to the arena. And I was completely alone here.
Moving silently, I left my chair and went to the wall that separated my office from the locker room. I hid behind the window frame; if someone walked into the locker room, they wouldn’t see me, but I would be able to see them walk up to Rhett’s locker.
I clutched my phone in my hand, waiting for someone to appear. If I could snap a photo of them without being seen…
“Hallo?”
I practically jumped out of my panties at the sound of Elias’s accent. He was standing in the other doorway that connected my office to the exercise room, a puzzled expression on his bearded face.
“What are you doing here!” I demanded.
“I am here to work out,” he said.
“Atmidnight?”
The massive goalie glanced over his shoulder into the exercise room, then back at me. “I am afraid of Coach seeing my workout. He will realize I am injured. And he will bench me. So I come at late hours.”
I began to relax. “You don’t have to do the routine tonight. You played in a game, like, six hours ago.”
He stared at me blankly. “Yes.”
I returned to my desk. “You can start without me. I’ll come supervise when I finish up these reports for Jay.”
Elias nodded once, then went into the other room.
Despite being scared half to death, I was actually really happy to see Elias. He trusted me enough to want to complete my workout schedule even after a day game and a flight home. It was yet another sign that I was a valuable member of the team.
I finished my work and joined him in the workout room, where Elias was doing a set of bench presses. The tall Swede had stripped his jacket and was wearing a tank top that looked at least one size too small. The muscles in his shoulders and chest bulged against the fabric like they were trying to break free.
“Don’t go so fast,” I told him. “It should be a two-one count. Two seconds to lower the weight to your chest, then one second pushing up.”
He grunted and slowed down.
“You made some great saves today,” I told him. “Especially that glove save in the third period, after Philly pulled their goalie. That saved the game.”
Elias racked the bar, then sat up and wiped sweat from his forehead with a towel. “Thank you.” His eyes briefly scanned my body. “You, uh, have a smile. A nice smile.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Okay…”
“I have been told,” he explained slowly, “that when you receive a compliment, it is polite to compliment them back. That was what I was trying to do. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s okay!” I said. “Thank you.”
It was the most he had said to me at one time, so I smiled at him.
He looked embarrassed by the whole interaction and quickly laid flat again to resume his next set.
But I considered it a win.
25
June
When I took the job with the Atlanta Reapers, I was worried about how I would be treated. More specifically, I was concerned about sexism. I was a woman who was replacing Andy, a trainer who was notoriously competent and well-liked. I was afraid it would takeyearsfor the testosterone-filled players to respect me.
But aside from some early skepticism, the team mostly welcomed me. There was some light flirting here and there, and a healthy amount of playful teasing, but overall they respected me. Theylistenedto me when I handed out workouts and rehab routines. It had only been a couple of months, yet I felt like I belonged here.
Elias Nystrom was the only guy who was an outright asshole to me, back when I confronted him in the parking lot. And now I knew that was because he was being defensive about an injury he was trying to hide. He had since apologized and now completed the rehab assignment I gave him.
