Page 9 of Cheap Shot
“It fits, don't you think?” Her cheeks pink once again as she winks at me, leaning slightly to the right to check my hand placement on the bar. “How do you feel?”
Like someone is trying to rip my arm out of the socket, but I won’t tell her that. “Peachy. Maybe think of something harder next time.”
Michele’s eyes light with excitement. “Harder, you say? I got the perfect exercise for you, then. I don’t want you reporting back to Stacey that I went easy on you.”
I pull my arms upward, feeling the stretch almost immediately. Instead of stopping there, I push a little further. Pain shoots through my right shoulder, causing me to wince slightly, but I push through it and complete my final set.
“I can’t wait.” I fake enthusiasm as she gives me instructions to continue my reps.
Michele opens her mouth to give me another exercise as my phone rings loudly, causing her to sigh. “Cole, you know the rules. No cell phones in the therapy area.”
“Oh, it’s back to Cole now? What happened to Hot Shot?” I place the stick on the table and reach beneath it for my phone. Remy’s annoying face flashes on the screen. “Stacey said I could bring it in here if I had it on silent.”
“I distinctly remember hearing an annoying-ass ring, which means your phone was definitely not on silent.”
“Fair enough, but I’ve been waiting for this call from my agent for weeks.” I flash her one of my patented smiles, dimples and all, knowing no woman can resist the dimples. Well, no woman except my drop-dead gorgeous substitute physical therapist.
“Fine, we can call it a day. I only had one more exercise for you today anyway. Don’t forget to stop at the front and confirm your next appointment.”
Michele flashes me another fake smile before moving to walk past me, but I grip her wrist. Her eyes widen in surprise before dropping to my hand on her wrist and snapping back to mine.
I immediately release her hand, holding my free one up in surrender, the other hand clutching my still-ringing phone to my chest. “What about our date?”
“What date? I said you needed to get through the rest of the sessions without any interruptions. That is definitely an interruption,” she quips before lifting her hand, patting my cheek softly before turning to head toward the back of the therapy area. “See you around, Hot Shot.”
“See you around, Trouble.” I wink at her for good measure, causing her to giggle. My eyes never leave her as she sashays into a back room and out of view.
“God damn it, Remy. Lord help you, if this is just another one of your check-up calls, I’m going to strangle you.”
“Why are you so violent this afternoon? Have a bad time at physical therapy today?”
“You have no fucking idea,” I mumble before reaching under the table for my key and sauntering toward the door. I need to stop and double-check my next appointment, but at this point, Michele might come back and accept my offer. No, I’m not desperate; I just want to make sure to cover all my bases before I miss out on a chance to spend time with the girl of my dreams. Okay, I’m being a little extra, but that’s not the point right now, is it?
I don’t answer his question because what’s the point? I missed out on a date with a woman I’ll probably never see again. I can lick my wounds in peace later. Right now, I need to know why the hell Remy called. It's always better to get right to the point with him, or I could be on the phone forever. “Any news?”
“No hello?”
“No.” I sigh, having zero patience for his shit any more than usual. “Tell me what you got for me, or I’m hanging up.”
Remy has been my agent since I entered the league at almost eighteen. What I didn’t know at the time was that he was from Redwood Falls, just like me, and he was friends with Cooper. Not to mention, he was also Cooper's agent. By the time I figured out the connection between the two of them, Remy had already brokered a nearly million-dollar deal for me to play for the Boise Wolverines for the next five years. I could’ve fired him after that, but I was young, not stupid. I don’t know anyone who would fire someone who made them that much money at eighteen. Thankfully, we had a lot in common, and he loved hockey just as much as I did. However, instead of going pro like most of us, he went to college, deciding to help guide the next generation off the ice instead of on.
“Testy today, aren’t we? How did your therapy session go?”
“Fine. You actually interrupted me, and my therapist called my session early.”
“You shouldn’t have answered the phone, Cole. Therapy is more important than whatever I have to say.”
“I know, but we only had one more exercise, so she cut me out early. Said I worked hard and wanted me to rest my shoulder before my next session in a few days.”
Okay, most of that is a crock of shit, but he doesn’t need to know that. I get enough lecturing from Momma and Beau about doing my stretches and exercises regularly. I really don’t need another mother hen right now.
“I promised to do extra reps next session. I need to stay in her good graces so she signs off on me getting back on the ice. I have to play nice.” I chuckle, glancing over to see if my favorite therapist has made another appearance.
I don’t need to be a mind reader to know Remy is rolling his eyes at me right about now. “True. But you know you won’t be playing any real hockey for the foreseeable future.”
“I thought all I needed was the doctor’s all clear to get back to playing full time?”
“You do, but you also need to get the approval of the head athletic trainer and coach.”
