Page 26 of Golden Goal

“You’re welcome. And if you need anything”—I pause, and he peers at me over his shoulder—“you know where my office is and where I live.”

“Yep,” he grunts before walking out of the room.

I blow out a breath. That went well, I think. I don’t really know because I can’t quite get a read on him, but even with his grumpy exterior, I like him. I want to get to know him better. I might even have a tiny crush on him, but what woman wouldn’t? He’s hot. He’s a hockey player, which a few months ago I wouldn’t think I’d find appealing—all the fighting and cursing—but I do. There’s nothing I can do about these feelings, though, except ignore them and hope they’ll go away. I will not dwell on the way he looked when he answered his door, sans shirt, and holding a tiny baby.

Pushing thoughts of a shirtless Holt out of my mind, I focus on cleaning up the treatment room then make my way back to my office. I’m barely logged back into my computer when there’s another knock on the door. I furrow my brow. No one else is on my schedule for today, and it’s too early for Sutton to be asking me to lunch. Something she’s done every day this week, which I’ve now come to look forward to.

“Yeah,” I call out.

“Hiya, Doc.” The guy—pretty sure it’s Weston Reynolds, one of the defensemen—flashes me a grin.

I sigh but don’t bother correcting him because I’m sure the next time he sees me, it’ll be back to Doc again. I’m coming to accept that’s what everyone is going to call me. It’s still professional-ish. And I’m tired of correcting them. Pick your battles, right?

“What can I do for you?”

He drops into a chair on the other side of my desk, props his arms on his knees, and stares at me.

“Reynolds?”

He clears his throat, staring at me. “Haven’t had time to talk with you yet.”

“Oh-kay,” I drawl. “Is there something I can do for you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I wanted to drop in and say hi.”

What the hell is going on?

“Wes, what the fuck, man? I thought we were going to work out.”

I peel my gaze from Reynolds to the door where Hunter is peeking into my office. He catches my eyes before walking over to where his teammate is sitting and nudges him in the arm.

“Are you bothering her?” He turns his attention to me. “Is he giving you trouble?”

“I’m not really sure what’s going on.”

“Wes,” Hunter prods.

Reynolds turns to Hunter and says, “Just being a good uncle and checking out the people who are going to be around Hazel.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Hunter must read the confusion on my face because he laughs and says, “My thoughts exactly, Doc.” He turns to his teammate. “And you, behave.”

Wes crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I’m just worried about Holty.”

“Oh? And what can I do to help?” I ask.

Hunter blows out a breath and sits in the other chair. “We’ve been over this, Wes. He’s fine.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the tone Hunter uses.

Wes shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “He’s been broodier than normal. Growling. Grumbling.”

“He’s going through a lot. The best thing for him is if you two are there for him. Supporting him however he needs.” I pick up the pile of papers on my desk and straighten them, needing something to do with my hands. This conversation is going in a strange direction.

“You’re his neighbor. How do you think he’s been acting?” Wes asks.

My heart skips a beat. “How do you know that?” I meet his gaze.