Page 44 of Cheap Shot
“Yes, she’s my best friend, but I doubt that has anything to do with this situation.” I arch my eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest.
His eyes flick down to my breasts for a moment, before locking on mine. “It has everything to do with this situation. So, how long have you known my brother?”
“Your brother? Which one?”
That answer must have caught him off guard for half a second—just a flicker in his eyes—but then his mouth curls, not into a smile exactly. More like... respect. Or the start of it.
“Any of them, if I’m being honest,” he says, but doesn’t say another word.
“You aren’t making any sense, Cole. What exactly is your fucking problem with me working here? You didn’t seem to give a shit about me being your therapist when you were trying to get into my pants.”
Cole doesn’t say a word. He just stands there, arms crossed, posture like a brick wall. “A mistake I won’t be making again.”
I wince slightly, but not enough for him to notice, or at least I hope not. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, then, Hendrix. Too bad I’m the only thing standing between you and getting back into the starting lineup.”
Cole points his finger in the air, spinning around in a circle. “Whoopie.”
So I guess this is how it’s going to be between us from now on. Keeping things between Cole and me in the friend zone is going to be easier said than done.
I glance down at my watch, noticing the time as I give him a once-over. “You can take those pads off. You aren’t getting anywhere near the ice until I assess that shoulder.”
The way he keeps tugging on his shoulder pads suggests his shoulder is bothering him a lot more than he’s letting on. My mind was more occupied by his physique than his incision when I first walked into the room.
“Is this going to be a problem?” I ask, motioning between us with my hand. “This is my job, nothing personal.”
“No problem at all. You?”
“Nope. Now take off your jersey and pads so I can have a look at that incision.”
He doesn’t move or even blink as I stand here, trying desperately not to fidget in place. Cole looks the picture of ease as he continues staring at me like he’s trying to peel away my skin and read whatever’s underneath. But finally, he relents, pulling the jersey over his head and shrugging off the pads with jerky, irritated movements, then lets them hit the bench beside him with a loud thud. “Fine. Do your assessment, Doc.”
“I’m not a doctor,” I mutter, stepping closer, but my voice is calm, professional, even if my pulse is hammering in my ears. I can do this. It is just a routine assessment. I’ll check his incision and range of motion to see if he can suit up for practice today. Easy peasy.
“Close enough,” he grits out, my eyes focusing on his Adam's apple as he swallows loudly. His eyes flare with heat, and not the good kind. The kind that burns if you’re the person on the receiving end.
“Can you take a seat, please?”
“Anything for you, Doc.” He winks, dropping onto the bench behind him.
“I told you—” I begin before gritting my teeth.
Cole is trying to get a rise out of me, probably as punishment for some manufactured slight in his mind, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. After taking a deep, cleansing breath, I kneel beside him and begin the shoulder assessment. I run my fingers along the incision, pressing lightly and trying hard not to focus on the way his skin feels beneath my fingers. I need to keep things clinical and detached, but his skin is warm, and I feel his gaze drilling into the top of my head like he’s willing me to look up. I don’t, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.
“Any pain when I do this?” I ask, lifting his arm slowly.
He grunts. “Only when you’re this close.”
I finally meet his eyes, irritation flaring in mine. “You’re going to need to get over it, and fast. Nothing happened between us.”
“Not for lack of trying, Michele.” He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “However, I don’t think getting over you was ever my problem.”
My hand stills as I duck my head, not wanting him to see how much his statement affected me. I knew deep down that I was nothing special to him. He was flirting with me for sure, but it meant nothing to him. Just another chance at a passing fling, a girl to warm his bed until he found someone else. A part of me had hoped Cole was different, and I’d like to say I am surprised he isn't. I have a job to do.
“Michele,” Cole whispers, his lips brushing against the top of my head.
I could easily look up, brush my lips against his, and see if a proper kiss from him is better than my imagination, but I don’t. Silence hangs between us, thick and cracking with tension, before I rock back on my heels, breaking the tension before it can swallow us both.
“Looks like your rehab has been going well. Not everyone continues with their exercises after being discharged from therapy.”
