Page 3 of Off Limits PUCK

“Today? Why today?”

“You don’t know? I heard the other PTs talking about the new blood coming in today. You’ll be reassessed by the new team PT. She’s being assigned to you to replace Juan. Everyone’s jealous, apparently, because working with you directly is supposed to be some big honor or whatever.” Gator rolls his eyes dramatically. “She arrives today.”

I scoff, reaching out with my stick to swipe the puck that one of the guys slid out of the way. I play with both pucks, showing off my skills to the empty arena. “A woman PT? Interesting.” I smirk. “I’m surprised the team owners and our coach trust me enough to have a woman with her hands on me.” We share a dark laugh. My reputation as a womanizer is pretty solid. With good reason.

“Yeah, it’s part of the equality initiative the owner started earlier this year. It’s the team’s first ever female PT, so, don’t screw this up for all the other ladies out there who want to work for the NHL.” Gator slips his helmet back on as the rest of the guys stream back out onto the ice, ready to continue scrimmaging.

“What’s next? Female players?” I ask, not hating the idea.

Gator laughs. “You’d fucking love that. But like I said—hands off the PT, dude. I mean it.”

“Okay, Dad,” I tease him. But I know he’s the more social one between us and he knows the rumors, rules, and gossip that circulate from management down to the team. I guess I’ll have hawk eyes on me with this new PT on staff now.

“Hey, Jake-o,” Coach calls out to me, waving me over with a beefy hand.

“Shit,” I mutter. How much more embarrassment to my manly pride do I have to get through this morning? It’s not even ten o’clock and I’m already being shunned on the ice and getting lectures from Gator, and now Coach is calling me off the ice early?

I press my lips together in a firm line. I’m going to put a stop to this. I skate to the thickly built man and meet his stern gaze rebelliously. No ounce of submission to be found anywhere in my attitude.

“Practice isn’t over yet,” I say, as if I have the authority to decide how long I’m on the ice.

“Get your skates off and get in the PT room. Your new therapist has arrived.” He shoves a pointer finger toward me. “No hanky panky. She’s a lady and will be treated as such.”

My lips twitch up in a smirk. Oh, she’s alady, huh? I doubt she’s some shy little wall flower. Women throw themselves at me every single day. I bet ten bucks she won’t be any different.

“Some guys from upstairs will be stopping by later to get an assessment from her. And I won’t be far from the room while she’s assessing your injury. If I hear one word out of your mouth that is even remotely inappropriate…”

I interrupt him, angry at how he’s talking to me. “I wouldn’t mess with a PT or any woman who makes a living off of touching dudes, even if you paid me to fuck with her,” I scoff, without thinking of my words.

Coach narrows his eyes at me. “Since when did being an athlete mean you guys have to be so full of shit?”

“Comes with the territory, boss,” I say with a clap on his shoulder as I do what we all call the “penguin walk” down the rubber floored hallway into the bowels of the arena. It’s awkward to walk on skates at first, but you learn the waddle pretty fast as a kid. I reach the locker room and pull off my skates.

It’s quiet back here, with all the guys and most of the staff on the ice or in the box next to the ice. The season starts in ten days. Everyone is being hovered over as if they’re made of gold.

I know the PT is waiting for me in the other room down the hall, but I’m a stinking, sweaty mess. If it were a guy PT, I wouldn’t shower first because no dude cares about how I look or smell, but this is apparently a “lady” and I don’t want to offend her delicate senses with my sweat.

I strip out of my clothes, whistling as I walk to the big open shower stalls with about twenty shower heads. There are also two private shower stalls, but no one really uses them. I turn on a stream of water and step under it. The water is cold and it refreshes me. I grab soap from the dispenser and lather it up.

I wash my chest and arms, trying to be quick so the “lady” isn’t waiting too long for me. I let the soapy water run down my torso, grasping my cock in my hand and sudsing up the soap on it.

“Oh! I am so sorry!” a feminine voice says.

I glance to the open doorway and see… a familiar face.

“Allie?” I say, laughing at the scared and somewhat surprised look on her face. It’s funny because those blue eyes of hers are on my hand, still grasping my cock. She bites her bottom lip and her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.

I notice her uniform—standard issue for the PTs and other staff for the Eagles. Her polo shirt is too big on her and isn’t cut in a way to flatter her at all, but I am sure she has a smoking hot body underneath it. I know because I noticed it on her graduation day in her little dress she was wearing.

“You okay over there?” I ask her, dropping my hand and letting the water run down my body.

Only then does she collect herself. Her hands fly up to her face to cover her flushed cheeks. She whips around, her back now to me.

“Um, I’m here just looking for you,” she says breathlessly. “You’re twenty minutes late to our session, and I was told you were in here! But I mean, not in the shower… I mean… oh my God. I’ve got to go!”

I watch her literally run out of the room and for a moment I feel terrible. This is Kenz’s best friend. And she just saw me naked. Then I think it through as I towel off. She had to have heard the shower water running. Did she come in here on purpose to catch me in the shower?

I pull on some joggers and a t-shirt, not looking forward to my session with Allie. Why didn’t Kenz say anything to me, give me any type of heads up?

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