Off Limits PUCK (Love on Ice #1)

2. Jake

Chapter two

Jake

“ I ’m open!” I shout in annoyance during our eight a.m. scrimmage.

This is the third time in an hour that I’ve been wide open in front of the hockey net, but my teammates have not given me the puck. Sure, it’s just a scrimmage, but they are babying me. I hate it. I’m a grown man and if I say my shoulder isn’t hurting me, then they should give me the damn hockey puck!

“Look, Gator,” I say to Eric as a water break is called. Eric is a player on my line from Florida, hence the nickname Gator. “Stop being a Scrooge and share the freaking puck.” I glare at him and whack my hockey stick on the ice.

He shakes his head, pulling his helmet off, sweat streaming down his face. “Orders came from the team owner. We leave you alone until you’re cleared.”

I grit my teeth. “I am cleared. Juan cleared me, you idiot.” Juan is my PT the team assigned to me years ago. Now, the guy up and retired and is moving to California. Rotten luck.

“Yeah, well, sorry to break it to you, but we all know you had Juan in your back pocket,” Gator says, doing circles around me on the ice.

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, as if I don’t know already.

“You were like a son to the old guy. He’d believe you even if you lied to his face. And you did lie about that bum shoulder of yours.” He goes as if to punch my shoulder, and I accidentally wince as I prepare to avoid the hit. But he was just faking it; he wasn’t going to really punch my shoulder. He frowns at me. “See what I mean? If I’d done that to you before the injury, you’d literally lean into my punch. You’re not okay, man. Stop lying to yourself.”

“Since when did you become my father?” I grouch at him. “If I wanted a lecture, I’d call home.”

“I’m just worried about you,” he says, sounding more like a brother than a close friend. “I mean, if you take early retirement, they’ll transfer some asshole forward hotshot to take your place.”

“I am an asshole.” I use my stick to maneuver the puck in front of his stick, baiting him. “I didn’t spend a decade building that rep just for you to tell me I’m not.” I wink at him.

“Just,” he says and pauses, trying to steal the puck from me, “just be honest today, okay?”

“Today? Why today?”

“You don’t know? I heard the other PTs talking about the new blood coming in today. You’ll be reassessed by the new team PT. She’s being assigned to you to replace Juan. Everyone’s jealous, apparently, because working with you directly is supposed to be some big honor or whatever.” Gator rolls his eyes dramatically. “She arrives today.”

I scoff, reaching out with my stick to swipe the puck that one of the guys slid out of the way. I play with both pucks, showing off my skills to the empty arena. “A woman PT? Interesting.” I smirk. “I’m surprised the team owners and our coach trust me enough to have a woman with her hands on me.” We share a dark laugh. My reputation as a womanizer is pretty solid. With good reason.

“Yeah, it’s part of the equality initiative the owner started earlier this year. It’s the team’s first ever female PT, so, don’t screw this up for all the other ladies out there who want to work for the NHL.” Gator slips his helmet back on as the rest of the guys stream back out onto the ice, ready to continue scrimmaging.

“What’s next? Female players?” I ask, not hating the idea.

Gator laughs. “You’d fucking love that. But like I said—hands off the PT, dude. I mean it.”

“Okay, Dad,” I tease him. But I know he’s the more social one between us and he knows the rumors, rules, and gossip that circulate from management down to the team. I guess I’ll have hawk eyes on me with this new PT on staff now.

“Hey, Jake-o,” Coach calls out to me, waving me over with a beefy hand.

“Shit,” I mutter. How much more embarrassment to my manly pride do I have to get through this morning? It’s not even ten o’clock and I’m already being shunned on the ice and getting lectures from Gator, and now Coach is calling me off the ice early?

I press my lips together in a firm line. I’m going to put a stop to this. I skate to the thickly built man and meet his stern gaze rebelliously. No ounce of submission to be found anywhere in my attitude.

“Practice isn’t over yet,” I say, as if I have the authority to decide how long I’m on the ice.

“Get your skates off and get in the PT room. Your new therapist has arrived.” He shoves a pointer finger toward me. “No hanky panky. She’s a lady and will be treated as such.”

My lips twitch up in a smirk. Oh, she’s a lady , huh? I doubt she’s some shy little wall flower. Women throw themselves at me every single day. I bet ten bucks she won’t be any different.

“Some guys from upstairs will be stopping by later to get an assessment from her. And I won’t be far from the room while she’s assessing your injury. If I hear one word out of your mouth that is even remotely inappropriate…”

I interrupt him, angry at how he’s talking to me. “I wouldn’t mess with a PT or any woman who makes a living off of touching dudes, even if you paid me to fuck with her,” I scoff, without thinking of my words.

Coach narrows his eyes at me. “Since when did being an athlete mean you guys have to be so full of shit?”

“Comes with the territory, boss,” I say with a clap on his shoulder as I do what we all call the “penguin walk” down the rubber floored hallway into the bowels of the arena. It’s awkward to walk on skates at first, but you learn the waddle pretty fast as a kid. I reach the locker room and pull off my skates.

It’s quiet back here, with all the guys and most of the staff on the ice or in the box next to the ice. The season starts in ten days. Everyone is being hovered over as if they’re made of gold.

I know the PT is waiting for me in the other room down the hall, but I’m a stinking, sweaty mess. If it were a guy PT, I wouldn’t shower first because no dude cares about how I look or smell, but this is apparently a “lady” and I don’t want to offend her delicate senses with my sweat.

I strip out of my clothes, whistling as I walk to the big open shower stalls with about twenty shower heads. There are also two private shower stalls, but no one really uses them. I turn on a stream of water and step under it. The water is cold and it refreshes me. I grab soap from the dispenser and lather it up.

I wash my chest and arms, trying to be quick so the “lady” isn’t waiting too long for me. I let the soapy water run down my torso, grasping my cock in my hand and sudsing up the soap on it.

“Oh! I am so sorry!” a feminine voice says.

I glance to the open doorway and see… a familiar face.

“Allie?” I say, laughing at the scared and somewhat surprised look on her face. It’s funny because those blue eyes of hers are on my hand, still grasping my cock. She bites her bottom lip and her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.

I notice her uniform—standard issue for the PTs and other staff for the Eagles. Her polo shirt is too big on her and isn’t cut in a way to flatter her at all, but I am sure she has a smoking hot body underneath it. I know because I noticed it on her graduation day in her little dress she was wearing.

“You okay over there?” I ask her, dropping my hand and letting the water run down my body.

Only then does she collect herself. Her hands fly up to her face to cover her flushed cheeks. She whips around, her back now to me.

“Um, I’m here just looking for you,” she says breathlessly. “You’re twenty minutes late to our session, and I was told you were in here! But I mean, not in the shower… I mean… oh my God. I’ve got to go!”

I watch her literally run out of the room and for a moment I feel terrible. This is Kenz’s best friend. And she just saw me naked. Then I think it through as I towel off. She had to have heard the shower water running. Did she come in here on purpose to catch me in the shower?

I pull on some joggers and a t-shirt, not looking forward to my session with Allie. Why didn’t Kenz say anything to me, give me any type of heads up?

“Here goes nothing,” I say as I walk down the hallway. I enter the brightly lit room with its massage tables, stretchy bands, roller balls, and many other tools PTs and masseuses use to stretch us out after games and practices.

Allie is standing beside a massage table, a tablet in her hand. No doubt all of Juan’s notes are pulled up, and she’s seeing his recommendations for my injury. Recommendations that definitely include clearing me to play this season. For whatever reason, I feel defensive already. What if she doesn’t just go with what Juan recommended? What if she makes my life a living hell by making me sit on the bench half the season until all my shoulder pain goes away?

It might never go away. You might never recover—then what? Early retirement. My mind sends forth those fearful thoughts and a cold anger rushes through me. I need to get ahead of this young and inexperienced PT’s agenda with my own agenda—clear me to play. No exceptions.

Now I just need to figure out the best way to manipulate her without coming onto her. Her blue eyes lift from the tablet to meet mine. I see determination and a degree of openness in their depths. Good. I’ll try to convert her into being determined to see me play again at our season opener game and open to my way of doing things.

I give her a Hollywood smile. Instead of melting her, she bristles. Cute. I saw the look of unbridled desire on her face five minutes ago in the shower. She’s just pretending to be immune to me right now, but I know she’s weak for me. All women are.

“Allison Austin,” I say as politely as I can. I extend a hand, not daring to hug her even though I remember her when she had bangs and braces. Protocol cannot be breached if I am going to use her to clear me to play. This shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’s my sister’s age, so that puts her at around twenty-five. Piece of cake.

She looks at my hand and another flush crosses her cheeks. I bite back a smirk. She’s thinking about where she just saw my hand. I’d bet any amount of money. I drop the hand down to the massage table.

“Kenz didn’t tell me you were applying to work here. My old PT was named Juan. So, you’ll be taking his place.” An idea forms in my mind. “I’m sure he left you all of his notes and stuff in that file you’re looking at. You can see that he recommended that I be cleared for full contact playing.” I shrug. “All you need to do is take a quick look here today and confirm that what Juan says goes.” My eyes glint at her and my tone drops. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go up against the word of a twenty-five-year veteran in the industry, right?” I pause. “You’re only twenty or so yourself, if I recall?”

I finish my little speech with another huge smile. I tap the table. “Where do you want me? On the table?”

I wait for her to swoon before me, powerless to argue with my vote of confidence in Juan. Oh boy, was I ever wrong about that!