Page 5 of Hard Hitter
Against his better judgment, O’Doul took a deep breath of Ari’s essence. There was something about her that really turned his crank. From her dark, unflappable eyes to the irreverent gemstone in her nose, he liked the whole package. The soft, coal-dark waves of her hair brushed his ear as she righted herself again.
Patrick took a sip of his drink, studying the ice cubes as if those suckers were interesting. Ari left her hand on the shoulder of his suit jacket, the warmth of her palm bleeding through a few layers of fabric to reach his skin. That was the only thing about her he didn’t really appreciate. Ari was a toucher. A massage therapist would have to be, right? Buthe preferred it when his friends kept their hands to themselves. Even the gorgeous ones.
Turning her attention to him, she squeezed his shoulder muscle. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good, thanks. Can I order you a drink?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d better turn in.”
“What?” Georgia yelped. “You’re going to leave me here at this testosterone fest by myself? There’s a pinot grigio by the glass. Just have one.”
Ari gave Georgia an indulgent smile and then pulled out the only available chair—the one next to Patrick’s. “I’ve been drinking a lot more often now that you’ve decided to become a party girl.”
“Blame me. I don’t care.” Georgia waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Besides, these guys are in on a plot to get you drunk so you go easier on us at yoga tomorrow morning.”
“You guys doyoga?” Hartley asked, his face breaking into a grin. “That’s something I’d like to see.”
Ari put an elbow on the table and rested her elegant face in her hand. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Maybe you’ll win the next one.”
“I really teed that one up for you, didn’t I?” Trevi’s friend asked, his smile widening.
“You did,” Ari agreed. “And I do appreciate it.”
“So what else is different about the Bruisers?” Hartley asked. “What’s Nate Kattenberger like?”
It was a common enough question. The young billionaire was interesting to a lot of people.
“The dude really likes his hockey,” Trevi said. “And we all have the same cool phone. They keep tabs on us with it, but it knowseverything. And here’s something funny.” Trevi pulled his phone out of his pocket. “There’s a gold star on the screen after we win a game. See? We got a gold star tonight. Haven’t gotten those since second grade.”
Hartley laughed. “What do they put up there when you lose? A middle finger?”
“Nope.” Trevi shook his head. “It’s just a void where thestar should be. And it’s weird, but I kind of hate knowing it’s missing.”
“Then the mind games are working,” Georgia said. “The man is a genius.”
When Ari’s glass of wine arrived, Patrick watched her lift the stem of the glass between elegant fingers. Everything on Ari was long and sleek. She turned her head suddenly to catch his ogling eyes.Busted. But her glance was more appraising then irritated. “Mr. O’Doul, how is your pain level this evening?”
Hell. “I’m fine. I’ve been stretching really well.” In fact, the foam rollers he carried around in his suitcase had to be replaced every couple of months because he used them so often they tended to collapse from overuse.
She gave him a patient smile. As if she was just humoring him. “Henry spoke to me on his way out the door tonight. He told me to be sure to get you on the table five times in the next seven days. But I can’t do that if you don’t set up some appointments.”
“Right,” he said. “Send Rebecca some appointment times. She’ll put ’em on my calendar and I’ll be there.” The last thing he needed was the training staff butting in, criticizing him for blowing off massage treatments. There were three weeks left before the play-offs started. He had to hang in there and play as hard as he could.
“Did you take anything for the pain tonight?” she asked, her cabernet lips pursed thoughtfully. Ari’s expression had a wisdom to it that O’Doul was always trying to categorize. She was beautiful, but not in a careless way.
“I took some ibuprofen. I’ll use some ice before I sleep.” She was still studying him in that penetrating way she had, and he didn’t like it. “How’s your ankle healing?”
Her gaze slipped. “Oh, really well. Almost like new.” She sipped her wine.
“How’d you break it, anyway? I never caught that.”
She grimaced into her wine. “By being stupid. Tripped on a set of steps in my apartment.”
“Ouch.” There was something about her delivery that raised the hair on the back of his neck, though. He’d spent his whole life trying to read people, and he was pretty good at it. “Did you fall all the way down a flight of stairs?”
“Nope. And I installed a night-light in the hallway, so it won’t happen again.” She cleared her throat. “Georgia, how are the wedding plans coming along?”
“Okay, I guess? Ask Rebecca. She’s the one who’s keeping track. She wants me to pick out flowers this week, except she gets mad when I just point to the first thing we see.”
