I groaned to myself in frustration. Of course he was trouble. I’d already been warned. His file might as well have arrived stamped in red ink: CAUTION—FLIRTING MAY CAUSE INJURY.
I was a professional. I didn’t fraternise with players. I didn’t giggle, didn’t blush, didn’t get derailed by rippling forearms, impossible cheekbones, or thighs carved out of marble.
ButJesus. I was only human.
The door creaked, and Cara poked her head inside at the exact wrong moment.
“Everything okay in he…oh.” Her eyes dragged over my face. “Why are you the colour of a tomato?”
“I’m not,” I snapped immediately. Too immediately.
“Right. Sure. Totally normal post-session glow.” She smirked. “Need the room?”
“Out,” I said, pointing like a schoolteacher ejecting a child. She laughed her way down the corridor, leaving me to die in peace.
If I were even slightly less disciplined, I’d already be picturing him shirtless on my couch, smirk in place, while I iced his hamstring with my bare hands.
Nope.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I grabbed my water bottle and took a long swallow, willing the heat in my cheeks to back the hell off.
It was fine. I could handle him.
He’d flirt. I’d ignore him. Simple.
…Right?
Chapter 4
Tyler
Physio Room 4
Tuesday, 9:15 a.m.
So todayI was only twelve minutes late. Progress.
She was already in the treatment room when I walked in, iPad in hand, her hair pulled back loose in an effortless way that I guess was more functional than anything. She wore that same ice cold expression from yesterday that had obviously lived rent free in my brain all evening.
Whilst her eyes stayed on the screen reading my notes, I took a moment to really take her in. She had on form fitting black yoga pants and a black LTA tee that somehow made clinical look criminal.Huh, this was new. I’d never been with a woman in uniform before. Hell, I’d barely been with women who wore this many clothes before.
“Morning, doc,” I said, grinning as the door swung shut. “Miss me?”
Her eyes flicked up with the briefest of glacial stares. Ironic really, when I couldn’t help but notice the warm, golden flecks in her hazel eyes that I hadn’t spotted yesterday.
“Hoodie off. Shoes off. Table.”
Damn. I tugged my hoodie over my head, whistling low. “Ever thought about starting with hello? A how’s the hamstring Tyler? You’re looking incredibly handsome today Tyler?”
“No,” she said flatly, the scent of antibacterial gel cutting through the air as she prepped. “I like to avoid unnecessary noise.”
I laughed, stretching out on the table. The vinyl was cold against my skin, but my blood was already trending north. “And yet, here we are. Locked in a room together. Fate’s a bitch, isn't it?”
Orla ignored me, her focus narrowing as she slid a hand under my knee to test the extension.
Too fucking close.
