Page 32 of Hidden Plays
After settlinginto our hotel room with Casey, I headed to the lobby in search of a snack at the shop by the check-in desk. I hadn’t eaten enough today. I exited the elevator and strolled across a marble floor, taking in the beige wallpaper and heavy wooden furniture lining the walls. It was nice, but understated.
I entered the snack shop, selecting a protein bar and Gatorade. As I paid for them at the counter, movement caught my eye.
Holden strode across the lobby, in front of the bar area.
Was he looking for a snack too? I should get out of here. The cashier bagged my food, and I grabbed it from her. “Thanks.”
Squeaks and a thud reverberated through the area. “Fuck!” Holden shouted.
“Sir, I’m so sorry.” A hotel staff member, dressed in her black uniform, hovered over Holden, who was on his back and gripping his bent leg to his chest, grimacing.
“What the hell?” With my pulse dashing, I jogged to them. “What happened?”
Holden rocked and sat up, groaning. “I slipped on the water on the floor.”
“We’ll clean this up right away, sir.” The woman left and picked up a phone at the lobby counter.
Crouched next to Holden, I placed my hand on his back. “You hurt your bad knee?” This didn’t look good. Could he havetorn his ACL again? If he did, the hotel faced one hell of a lawsuit.
“Yeah, I slipped on that leg. I think I overextended it.” Bending forward, he rested his forehead on his knee. “I need to get it elevated with some ice and a compression bandage.”
“Okay. Can you walk?” I’d have to help him to his room. Setting my bag on the floor, I crawled behind him and slid both my arms under his armpits, his fresh cinnamon scent assaulting my senses. Why did he have to smell so good?
“I think I can walk.” He planted the foot of his good leg under him. “Okay, lift.”
I raised him and hooked my arm around his waist as he leaned against me, my heart pounding in my ears. Damn it, why did it have to be me here? Why couldn’t one of the other guys have been here to help him?
“I’m sorry, JJ.” Holden hopped on his good leg.
The woman walked to us with a towel and wiped the floor around Holden. “Okay, the spill is dry. It looks like it was water.”
A dark-suited man scurried across the floor. “Sir, can I get you anything?” He clasped his hands at his chest. “I’m the manager of the hotel. We have medical supplies if you need them, or I can call a doctor for you.”
“No, I’m a trainer for the team, so I have the medical supplies I need.” Holden straightened his leg. “I don’t think it’s too bad.” He glanced at me, his gorgeous face so close to mine. “I’ve got one of my players here to help me.”
“It might be a good idea to take you to the ER.” If he’d torn something, he’d need an MRI, and he shouldn’t let it go untreated. I gripped him tightly, his muscled body tingling against my side. The last time I’d been this close to him was at the gay bar.
“I’ve been through this before, JJ. I know what to do.” He huffed. “Just please get me to my room.” He wound an arm overmy shoulders. “Besides, we don’t have time for a hospital visit. We need to be at the stadium soon.”
Why was he worrying about the game over his damn knee? I gritted my teeth. “Fuck that, Holden. If you’re hurt?—"
“Take me to my room.” He glared at me.
“Fine, where is it?” I turned him toward the elevator, with him putting some pressure on his knee. Again, why me?
The hotel manager picked up my bag. “Here, don’t forget this. I’ll put my card in here so you can contact me if you need anything.” He slipped a business card into the bag.
“Thanks.” I took it from him. “Maybe you can deliver a free meal to his room, since he probably won’t be joining us for the team dinner?” It was the least they could do.
“Yes, of course, sir.” He dipped his head.
“Let’s go.” I helped Holden to the elevator, with him hobbling beside me. After hitting the call button, I stared at our reflection in the stainless-steel doors. If I didn’t know better, we appeared to be a couple standing there, arm and arm. But that was far from the truth.
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open.
I walked him inside, and he leaned against the wall on his own. “Third floor.” He sighed and frowned. “I can’t believe I didn’t see the water on the floor.”
“It was slick marble. The fucking hotel should have cleaned it up and put caution signs out. It was their fault.” I glanced at his knee, my heart hurting for him. Was his knee swelling?
