Page 43 of Cheap Shot
“Hello, Michele.” The gravelly tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine, but I don’t say a word. I’ve apparently forgotten how to speak or do anything else but stand here and stare at Cole. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I manage to nod my head and smile, but still don’t say anything.
“How did you know I’d be here?” He turns, grabbing one of the white practice jerseys from the hook and sliding it over his head, covering all his delicious muscles and jump-starting my brain.
“I didn’t know, per se,” I squeak, trying to think of something to say.
I can do this. He’s just a guy who flirted with me a few weeks ago, nothing more, nothing less. He probably doesn’t even remember asking me out.
Then why is he looking at you like you’re something to eat?Shut up, brain. You aren’t helping the situation.
Cole Hendrix and I are nothing to each other. It was a chance meeting with some light flirting between two adults, but that’s all it is. Was. Because now, it can’t be anything else. He’s my newest patient, a professional hockey player who is working to rehabilitate after a major injury, and probably wants nothing more than to get his dick wet once or twice before disappearing.
“It’s good to know you aren’t stalking me. You’re too gorgeous to go to jail.” His voice glides over my skin like silk, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Hello,” I squeak out, his warm brown eyes locking with mine.
We both just stand there, staring at each other like two lunatics. Cole reaches up and brushes a piece of hair off my face, smiling softly down at me. I’ve never wanted there to be a locker room full of smelly and loud hockey players than I do right now. Instead, there isn’t a sound in the room, just the two of us in our own little bubble of bliss. I should say something, break the silence, but I can’t do anything but drink him in. Cole Hendrix is even more delicious in person than he was in my dreams.
He’s obviously been working out more since the last time I saw him, no doubt attempting to prepare for the start of the season. His arms are bulkier than when I last saw him, both about the size of my head. It would take little effort for him to toss me around like a potato sack, even given my size. I’m not what you’d call petite, probably closer to the size of an actual sack of potatoes than anything else.
“How’s the shoulder?” I motion toward his injured arm with my chin, but my eyes remain locked on the center of his chest.
I’m barely 5’2”. Yes, I’m short, compared to Cole being well over six feet, by my estimation. He’s over a foot taller than me at least, which any other day would bother me, but today I plan on using it to my advantage. I can’t risk falling under his spell a second time if I want to explain the situation to him. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to do it.
“Good.” He smirks, his eyebrow raising in question. Probably wondering if I have anything else to say to him, like to explain why the heck I’m standing in the Timberwolves locker room, staring at him.
“Good, that's good.”
Cole’s hand slides down the side of my face before gripping my chin and raising it. My eyes flick up to his before focusing on something in the locker over his shoulder. “My eyes are up here, gorgeous.”
His eyes scan my face as if he’s committing me to memory before his lips stretch into a blinding smile, and two perfectly shaped dimples appear on his cheeks. Why the hell does he have to have dimples? Like he couldn’t just be gorgeous and untouchable.The Lord above had to bless this man with dimples, as well. This shit just isn't fair.
Someone clears their throat loudly from beside me, breaking our trance, and we jump apart. Well, I jump. Cole’s eyebrows pull down in confusion as he looks between me and the newcomer. I need to speak and finish explaining myself, but our guest beats me to it.
“I see you’ve met your new physiotherapist.” Parker wraps his arms around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “This is Michele. She and I are in charge of getting you back into shape and on the ice with your brothers.”
“In charge of my case?” he questions. The warmth leeches out of his voice, suddenly becoming more gravelly than charming.
I nod my head, a forced smile spreading across my face as I step out of Parker’s embrace. “I’m the new physiotherapist.”
“Great,” he responds, his face completely devoid of emotion.
Fuck.This isn’t how I expected things to go. Not that I really had any expectations of seeing him again. I had hoped he’d at least have given me time to explain.
“Michele will go over your workout plan with you. If you have questions, you can stop by my office, but she’s your primary point of contact.”
Cole doesn’t look at Parker, his eyes remaining focused on me. Instead of the warm and flirty looks from earlier, his eyes are cold and calculating.
“No need to worry. You’ll be in excellent hands with Michele,” Parker says, patting Cole on the shoulder before turning to head back into his office.
Parker hasn’t even turned the corner before Cole growls, “Is Stacey really your friend?”
“What?”
“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, Michele. Is Stacey really your friend or not?”
What the hell does Stacey have to do with any of this? Sure, she was his primary therapist at the hospital therapy center, but that’s it. I talked to her about his case when I discovered he was going to be one of my patients here, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. According to her, he is more than ready to get back on the ice and start training again. I’m not so sure. Cole might look okay on the outside, but I have a feeling the insides are a little more damaged than anyone knows. Thankfully, the team and Parker agree with me.
