Page 35 of Cross-Checked

It could have been worse, but as my wrist throbs in my lap, I realize it could have been a whole lot better, too.

The important thing is that the doctor already confirmed that Abby was unharmed—a fact her father hasn’t let me forget. He’sbeen looking at me like I walk on water, like I’m some sort of angel that saved his kid instead of a woman who did what any normal person would do in the situation.

He could have taken her home already, but he refuses to leave until he knows that I’m okay, too. It was much easier to ignore the tension in the room when we were both so focused on Abby. Unfortunately, now that she’s asleep, all his attention is on me.

“Careful,Alessandra,” he says, practically purring my name like it’s some sort of exotic foreign word as he stares down at me from the side of the bed. “You wouldn’t want someone to overhear you calling me by anything but my last name.”

He’s right. I make sure to maintain the strictest professional boundaries with my players. It’s a hazard of being the only female GM—people always seem to want to put me, and everything I do, under a microscope. So I make sure that my image is as squeaky-clean as possible.

It’s yet another reason why yesterday’s activities in my office can never happen again.

I open my mouth to respond, but he leans forward, planting one hand on the mattress behind my head. With my bed inclined to a sitting position, he’s only partially leaning forward, giving me a good look at those pecs up close.

I don’t understand how a man with such thick almost-black hair on his head, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow even when he’s freshly shaven, has so little body hair. Aside from a smattering of hair across his chest and, I note as my eyes glide down his abdomen, a trail of hair from his belly button down into his compression shorts, the rest of his abdomen is hairless. With my eyes now focused on his crotch, I don’t miss how his dick stirs in those tight-ass shorts.

With a gulp, I glance up quickly, but his eyes are amused when they meet mine, and my cheeks flush when I realize it’s because he knows I was just checking him out.

What the hell is wrong with me?We’re in the hospital because I’m hurt and his daughter was nearly injured too, and like two horny teenagers, we can’t keep our eyes off each other.

“I—” I start to say, intending to respond, but finding that I’ve completely lost track of what we were talking about.

The knock on the open door has both of us turning our heads. I’m expecting to see the doctor, but instead Lauren stands there, holding a big Rebels duffle. It’s too small to be a hockey bag, so I assume it’s some piece of swag she snagged from the marketing offices.

“Hey,” I say quietly, noting how she looks worried that she just interrupted some private moment between the two of us. “Come in. We’re just whispering so we don’t wake Abby. She’s not hurt or anything, just sleeping.” I nod toward the bassinet against the wall.

The grunt McCabe lets out is half-laugh, half-sigh.

“I brought you some clothes,” Lauren tells him, “since you left in your uniform. And some shoes, because Olivia said you left in your socks?”

“Yeah, I took my skates off, but there wasn’t really time to change.”

“Yes, there was.” I roll my eyes. “You could have changed and then driven yourself to the hospital. You didn’t need to come in the ambulance.”

There wasn’t even room for him in the back, especially not with all his pads on, so he sat up front with the driver.

He rolls his eyes right back at me before reaching out for the bag and mumbling his thanks. And when he heads over to the chair next to Abby’s bassinet to rifle through it, Lauren steps up to the bed, taking the seat next to it. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better. I just need the orthopedist to look at the damn X-rays so I can get out of here.”

Lauren glances down where my lower arm rests in my lap, splinted with an ice pack on either side of my wrist. “Do they think it’s broken?”

“Yeah. They also took some X-rays of my ribs to make sure they’re okay. I definitely feel like I pulled some muscles in my back, or bruised it badly or something. But I think it would hurt worse if I broke any ribs,” I explain, then quickly change the subject to what I’m most interested in knowing. “So, what happened after I left? Did they kick those fans out?”

“Yeah, security took them out and had the police waiting for them. It was mayhem for a couple minutes there. It’s a relief you and Abby weren’t more seriously hurt, but I’m sorry about the outcome of the game.”

“Were the guys distracted? Like by me getting hurt, or McCabe rushing off the ice like that?”

“I mean...” Lauren pauses, her eyes flicking over to where McCabe stands, his back to us as he steps into the sweatpants he’s pulled out of the bag. “I’m sure that’s not why they lost.”

I press my lips together and nod, but I know she doesn’t actually believe that any more than I do. Part of the game is tuning out any distractions, but this wasn’t just something that happened in the stands; their captain rushed off the ice and out of the game.

I’m not blaming him—it is what it is. But it’s silly to pretend like there was no impact. I glance back at Lauren. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“We’ll get them in the next game, AJ.” McCabe’s low voice carries across the room.

Just as I’m about to respond, there’s another knock at the door and the doctor’s back, with a clipboard in hand and a nurse following close behind him.

“Well,” he says, “you got lucky.”

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