Page 15 of Offside for Christmas
"Meaningpress out, Cole."
"So that’s a yes—you worked with NHL guys."
Her expression stayed sunny. Too sunny.Armor, not warmth.
"I said press."
He pressed. The band fought back. His ego did, too.
There was a story there. He knew it. She knew he knew it. But she wasn’t giving it.
Not yet.
By the time the session ended, Cole was drenched in sweat, frustrated beyond measure, and his shoulder was screaming at him in ways it hadn't in weeks. Which, perversely, probably meant Ellie had actually made him use it properly for the first time since the injury.
"Ice your shoulder tonight," she said, handing him a water bottle that had appeared from somewhere. "Fifteen minutes on, fifteen minutes off. Do it three times before bed. I'll see you tomorrow, same time."
Cole nearly choked on his water. "Tomorrow? We just did an hour—"
"We'll be doing an hour every day until I clear you for full practice." Ellie was making notes on her tablet, not even looking at him. "That's the deal."
"Nobody told me that would be the deal."
"I'm telling you now." She glanced up, and there was something almost challenging in her expression. "You want to play hockey? You do the work. It's that simple."
Cole grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, wincing as the movement pulled at his shoulder. "You always this much of a hard-ass?"
"Only with patients who lie to me about their pain levels."
"I wasn't lying—"
Ellie held up her phone. On the screen were notes—detailed notes—with timestamps. "You said three. Your facial expressions said eight. Your actual physical responses said closer to ten. So yes, Hansen, you were lying."
Cole stared at her, something uncomfortably close to a smile tugging at his mouth despite his best efforts. "You're observant."
"It's my job."
"No, I mean—" He caught himself, realized he was about to say something genuine, something that would give away the fact that he was impressed by her, and stopped. "Never mind."
Ellie's eyes narrowed slightly, like she'd caught the slip anyway. "Tomorrow. Seven fifty-five. Don't be late."
"I was early today."
"Then you're setting a precedent. I'll expect it every day now." She smiled, and it was the first real smile he'd seen from her—sharp and mischievous and somehow more dangerous than her professional mask. "Have a good rest of your day, Cole."
It wasn't until he was halfway to the door that he realized she'd used his first name instead of "Hansen."
Cole walked to his truck with his gym bag over his good shoulder, his right shoulder throbbing with every step.
She was infuriating. Bossy. Controlling. Saw right through every single defense mechanism he'd spent years perfecting. And she was wearing a reindeer pin like it wasn't the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen in his life.
This was going to be a long six weeks.
But as Cole caught his reflection in the truck window, he noticed something that stopped him cold.
He was smiling.
Not a big smile. Just a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile he hadn't felt in months.
