3. Allie
Chapter three
Allie
“ C ut the crap, please, Jake.”
I see right through him. Does this type of manipulation actually work on people who are employed by the Eagles? Did it work on Juan? He’s trying to intimidate me without being too obvious about it, and I will not stand for it. I do not even answer to him—I answer directly to the coach and the team’s owner! Not to mention Jake’s surgeon, who is on standby in case his injury doesn’t heal, and the team’s two doctors.
“If you think you are going to control how our sessions progress, you are wrong,” I say as politely as I can, matching his super smooth tone of confidence that sounded just like a snake-oil salesman.
He blinks at me in surprise. Then he lifts a muscled arm to push blonde hair out of his face, his hazel eyes darkening into a shade of brown. He’s buying time. I almost laugh. He is clearly not used to people—to women—telling him no on anything, is he? I shake my head. And here I have been harboring a crush on the guy for years! I feel dumb now.
Then I blush again, remembering how often I’ve gotten off on thoughts of him doing oh so wicked things to my body.
“Please, go ahead and step on the scale. I need to evaluate your body mass before I begin assessing you.” I gesture to the high end scale that measures so much more than his weight. It gives me a read on his lean muscle and his fat, among other things.
He does as I tell him to do, then I ask him questions I’m sure every doctor and professional have asked him since his injury at the end of the last season. His answers are short, like he’s bored. But so far, I haven’t had to put my hands on him. That part will come later.
“So it looks like your last MRI didn’t show any tissue damage. But you were on very strong nerve pain medications to control spasms. How did you react to those meds?”
The question catches him off guard. “Um, fine, I think. Why are you asking about nerve pain meds?”
Honestly, I’m concerned. Based on what I can see from his scans and tests, he should not have had to take strong pills. Doing so just masks the pain without fixing anything, and I’m seeing in front of me that he was on the meds for a whole month as the last season ended. Why wasn’t he pulled off the ice to heal right away?
“I’m just wondering why they were prescribed to you when you didn’t suffer nerve damage.” I hold up the tablet. “Unless I’m missing something here.”
He laughs, a loud, long, condescending laugh. I want to give him a big “fuck you” and leave. I’m a professional and I’ve been working long enough to know what acceptable behaviors are and are not in a work environment.
“Juan might have tolerated this disrespect,” I say flatly. “But I won’t.”
“You’re just here so you can work with a bunch of big, tall, well-endowed dudes for a good time. You also are lucky to be here—if we hadn’t been desperate to replace Juan right before the new season is starting, do you honestly think you’d have been hired? We were desperate.” He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to cry in a puddle at his feet, telling him I’m sorry for asking a basic question about his medication. Well, he can go to hell. I’m not weak.
“Oh yes, let’s focus on that, shall we?” I say, smooth as butter. I take a step toward him and jab my finger aggressively into his muscled chest. “Why was the team ‘desperate’ big boy? Huh? Why were they scrambling to give you your own PT instead of sharing the other three physical therapists with the team?”
He swats my hand away, but I grab his wrist. Thanks to my self-defense classes, I’m fast. I grip him hard enough that he smirks at me in surprise, looking pleased that I’m not letting him bully me. Guys are weird like that!
“Because of you. Because. Of. You.” I say with emphasis on each word. “So, stop being a princess and get on that damn table so I can get an honest and reliable read on your recovery. Everyone is tired of your lies, hotshot. And so you know, you’re not actually fooling anyone. Why else would they bring in someone with specialized training in ‘old’ injuries?”
He looks completely shocked. And it’s true. I just completed my extra training on recovery of injuries that are not fresh. It’s tough work, bringing health back to body parts that healed incorrectly due to neglect.
He sits on the table and I roughly start to lift his shirt up. He pulls the whole shirt off, half naked in front of me. Fuck. He’s way too attractive for his own good. I stand behind him now as he sits at the very end of the table.
“I answer to your ownership, Jake. I answer to your surgeon,” I say, hissing out the last word. “This is serious. I expect you to work with me on this so we can get you healed. For real, not just for pretend.”
He’s silent for the rest of my evaluation session, recovering his arrogance just enough to face the owners and his coach as they walk into the room.
***
It’s been three days since I first worked with Jake. I’ve been dodging Kenz’s texts on the subject. Thankfully, she flew to Mexico as a flight attendant and decided to stay an extra two days of fun in the sun. She lives a charmed life. She keeps texting me about my job with the Eagles, but what can I tell her? That every single day I touch her brother as he lies down shirtless, or works out doing the gentle band resistance exercises I give him? That in order for me to use the adjustment tool on him he needs to strip into his undies for me—or naked, which I would never ask for though in training we’re taught its best—while I put my fingers into the muscles of his incredibly masculine rear end?
I’m standing by the ice with the other staff members, thinking about Jake’s butt and feeling irritated instead of turned on. He’s compliant enough, but he’s rude about it. I know he feels trapped, but it’s his fault for lying to Juan. And it’s Juan’s fault for lying to the team’s ownership and giving him strong meds just so he can play.
The guys are in a full practice today. The season starts in seven days, and as it’s looking now, Jake will not be playing if I have any say in the matter.
“How’s it looking in the sessions?” Coach asks me. He raises a graying eyebrow. “I get a good read on you, young lady. You’re a straight shooter. So am I. It doesn’t always make you popular, but it’s the only way to live.”
I’ve felt him watching me during my daily updates I have to give upstairs to the owners. I thought he disapproved of me. Now I learn he’s just assessing me, the way I assessed Jake that first day, and saw instantly that he was trying to bully me.
“Jake is cooperative. But he doesn’t buy into my assessment of his shoulder situation. I take it you all have not told him whether he’s cleared to play next week?” I ask, keeping my voice down. Since I’m not a senior resource like Juan was, this time the decision on Jake’s future will be made by a group of people, based partly on my recommendation.
“The decision hasn’t been made.” Coach looks out at the ice. “But we’ve got to do it soon.”
“I’m going to bump Jake up to phase two of the recovery plan. We’ll see how much weight and pressure he can take to his shoulder.” I look at my wristwatch, the kind all of us PTs wear. “I’ll do that about an hour after he gets off the ice. Want to pop in and watch? Might be good to get a second set of eyes on him.”
Coach shakes his head. “I trust you, Allison. Just do what you can to get our guy back out there in tip-top playing shape.”
His vote of confidence means the world to me. I turn and walk back to the PT room, intent on reviewing my plans for Jake today. I set up everything on the table he and I use, ignoring the rest of the guys as they come in after practice to get stretched and massaged.
Finally, Jake makes his appearance. He banters with his teammates and seems to be killing time. What is he playing at now? I choose not to escalate anything by calling his attention to the fact that I am standing not twenty feet away at the end of the room, waiting for him.
Only after most of the guys have gotten up and left does he make his way to me.
“Should I remind you that we have a scheduled time together?” I can’t stop myself from saying.
He sits heavily on the bench.
It surprises me. He looks beat.
I ask him to lift his arm and he does, gritting his teeth. He lets it drop to his side.
“Hey Allie, I wonder if you’re still so against those nerve pain pills?” he says lightly, but I can see real pain in his eyes.
“How long have you been in pain… again?”
“I took a rough hit today. That’s all.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “You wear a yellow ‘no contact’ jersey, Jake. What’s really going on?”
I reach out and touch him, my fingers probing his back. He slips his shirt off and I notice we’re alone in the room.
Has it gotten colder in here? I shiver as I reach out to touch him again. I use my left hand on his chest to stabilize him as I apply pressure to his shoulder blade.
I run my fingers up and down his skin, feeling him grow warm under my touch. I spread the palm of my left hand out wide on his chest, feeling every move of his chest muscles.
Oh God, this is just like my fantasies. Only, it’s better. This is the first time we’ve been alone since that first day. There’s always someone hovering around, asking me questions about Jake or guys hanging around, giving him a hard time. But today, we’re alone. Suddenly and without warning.
“I’m going to need you to turn your head for me. Left and then right,” I instruct him. Even though he’s sitting down, I’m eye level with him, bracing myself on the floor so he can fully relax as I figure out the source of his pain. I don’t feel any lumps in his shoulder blade or mid back areas.
He dutifully turns his head away from me. But as he turns it back to me, his lips are less than an inch from mine.
I catch my breath, freezing both hands in their probing of his body. He locks eyes with me. I see defiance in them. And I also see something else. Is it loneliness? Sadness? I can’t tell.
But there must have been something else there that I missed entirely because he leans in to kiss me. And against all odds of me losing my self-control at work—I kiss him back.