Page 25 of Golden Goal

“Yeah. I feel bad Hazel woke her up. But I swear Rebecca’s got a magic touch because Hazel slept for five hours straight. Which was amazing. Until she came over, I couldn’t get her to sleep if I wasn’t holding her. It’s been a rough few days. I’m still exhausted.”

“She sounds pretty fantastic. Neighbor’s baby wakes her up and instead of being mad about it she helps get said baby to sleep,” Hadley says, and I feel her gaze on me. “Can’t wait to meet her.” I glance over at her, and she has the gall to wink at me.

“Don’t even think about it. It’s not happening. Hazel, and getting back on the ice, are my focus. Nothing else. You hear me?”

She chuckles and I have a feeling I haven’t heard the last of it.

I shake my head.

“Well, I’m here now. For as long as you need. You’re not alone in this anymore.” She pats me on the leg. “Not that you really were all alone—you have the guys and their wives. And apparently your neighbor.” She pauses. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Who knew there wouldn’t be any flights with seats available until now? It isn’t even the holidays yet.”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here now,” I tell her.

And I am glad. So very glad she’s here.

Chapter eleven

Rebecca

Knock, Knock.

“Come in,” I say, not bothering to look up from where I’m inputting notes about a player I just finished a PT session with.

I know it’s Holt based on the scent that fills my office. I’m not sure if it’s his cologne or body wash, but whatever it is, it’s the same woodsy smell that engulfed his bedroom the other night.

Now I’m remembering what happened afterward. What I’ve deemed the ‘Great Towel Incident’. Him in a towel. Me tripping and falling. Him catching me and losing his towel. Feeling his semi-hard cock pressed against me. Wondering what it would feel like buried between my legs. How nice it felt to be nestled against his chest, the full heat of his body around me. I bet it would be even better to have him hovering over me in bed. Staring down at me with those piercing blue eyes.

A throat clearing has me meeting said blue eyes. Eyes that look tired and like they’re hiding hurt or anger, perhaps both. I swallow, hoping my thoughts aren’t visible on my face; they are certainly inappropriate thoughts about a patient. But as long as I stay professional and don’t act on them, no one will ever know what I’m thinking.

“Hi. Sorry, I thought I had more time,” I tell him.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts, rocking back on his heels. “I’m early.”

“We can get started now.”

I push back from my desk, snagging my notepad and a pen before heading out of my office.

“How are you doing? How’s the hip?” I ask as we make the short trek down the hall to my treatment room.

“Better.”

I smile. “That’s great to hear. How’s your daughter?”

“Good.”

Guess we’re going with one-word answers today. Fun.

I use my key to let us into the room and hold the door open for him. He walks past me, brushing against my arm, and I hope he can’t see the goosebumps that break out where his skin touches mine.

By now he knows the drill and lies face down on the table. We go through a series of stretches for his hip, glute, and leg. I tuck my feelings and thoughts about him away, and focus on being his physical therapist. On keeping things professional.

“Your range of motion is better, so whatever else you’ve been doing, keep doing it. But let’s err on the side of caution and continue these sessions for a few more weeks,” I tell him, scribbling notes.

“Thanks,” Holt says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m taking a leave of absence from the team. That way I can get settled with Hazel. It’ll also give me extra time to make sure I’m recovered.” He gestures to his hip.

“Makes sense. I’m glad you’ll have the time to bond with her.”

“Thanks.” He turns to head toward the door.