Page 45 of Unwritten Rules
A frown creases his brow. “Noah… Please tell me you’re not talking about Noah Sterling.”
Now I’m frowning. “Yeah, I am. How do you know him?”
Noah has been racing Supercars since he was just out of high school, so it would make sense if that’s where Sinnett had seen him before. I know it’s a popular sport these days. But it doesn’t explain the frown deepening in his forehead.
“Your friend is neighbours with my sister. Yourfriendhired mytwinsisterto be his babysitter.”
My eyes widen as the colour drains from my face. “What? Is your sister Mia?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Your friend better not fuck around with my sister.”
“He would never.” I’m quick to come to Noah’s defence. “He’s a great guy, I promise. Probably the kindest person I’ve ever known, so Mia is in good hands with him.”
“He better be,” Sinnett grunts. He walks further into the room and leans his hip against the bed, eyes locked on mine. “Mia has been through a lot, so the last thing I need is for him to make things worse.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about his sister, and why he’s so protective over her, it goes beyond just normal sibling care, but I don’t. The tension in his shoulders and the hardness of his features tells me it’s not my place to ask such personal questions.
Tension crackles between us now, weighing heavily on my chest at an almost suffocating pace. How is it possible that this man can render me speechless with so much as his presence?
“What can I help you with?” I choke out, folding my arms over my chest.
A frown creases his forehead. “We have a session booked, remember?”
My eyes round at the edges and I scramble for the desk calendar on the right of the desk, my schedule for the day as clear as day. I inwardly curse myself for being distracted the past two days and forgetting about this appointment.
“Shit,” I murmur, and straighten my spine. “Well, I guess we better get started then.”
Sinnett rolls his tongue in his cheek. He hoists himself onto the edge of the table. “Yes, we should.”
My movements are rigid as I round the desk and move toward Sinnett. His eyes track my path, and I fight the urge to shudder under his intensity. My hands tremble as I gesture to his quad, wrapped up with sports tape.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, keeping my eyes downcast on his thick thigh that could easily burst open a watermelon if he tried hard enough. “I hope the plan I created for you has been beneficial in your recovery.”
“I feel great.” Sinnett rubs his hand over the thigh in question. “The swelling seems to have gone down a lot.”
I inspect the area that was angry and swollen not even ten days ago, but is now calmer and less inflamed. My heart swells with pride knowing my knowledge and hard work have led Sinnett on a road to recovery that could see him back on the field in three weeks, if he keeps going at this pace.
“Impressive progress,” I murmur.
“It’s all because of you, strawberry.”
I lift my eyes to his, my insides melting at the warmth swirling in the sea of blue. “I can’t take all of the credit when you’re the one putting in the hard work.”
Sinnett runs a hand through the messy strands of hair over his forehead and nods. “Either way, thank you. I might actually be able to get back on the field soon.”
“I will say it’s looking like a possibility.” I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us so I don’t inhale more of his addictive cologne. “But don’t get ahead of yourself, okay? This is the halfway point, so as long as you keep to the schedule, you’ll see positive results.”
Sinnett’s hands curl around the edge of the table, knuckles bleaching as he nods. “Yeah, no, you’re right.”
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Ready to get started? Today I’ll be focusing more on mobility of your knee to see how the muscles in your quad react to the movement, and then I’ll finish up with a massage.”
The thought alone of having to touch Sinnett has warmth spreading across my body.
“If you wanted to feel me up, Tate, all you had to do was ask.”
My cheeks flame at his words, and I’m unable to meet his eyes. “Are you going to say that every time I need to massage you?”
He smirks. “Maybe.”
