He was twitchy from lack of ice time. Even in the summer, he skated with the local proleague, keeping his legs fresh and his conditioning on track. The season might only run from October to April—June if you’re lucky, but most of the guys skated year-round.
He missed that. And he missed his teammates, but most of them had scattered to their hometowns for the summer or for extended vacations. His mom had asked him to come home to recuperate in Calgary, but the Strikers had the best team of doctors and medical staff, and if he wanted to be back and ready for training camp, staying here was the best option.
Shoving the crutch under his arm, he headed into the PT’s office, both nervous and excited to truly start his rehab. Hockey was everything to him. It’s how he helped his family after every sacrifice they’d made for him over the years, and he’d do whatever was necessary to make sure he still had his spot as a top-four defenseman when September rolled around. As it stood, they were cutting it a little too close to training camp, but hopefully Dr. Anders would have good news for him. He had every intention of being back to his bruising self by the first preseason game.
Finn pulled open the office door and headed to the receptionist.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Eric Finnegan. I have an appointment with Dr. Anders.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Finnegan, please have a seat. Someone will be right out,” she said, flashing him a smile as she typed.
Within minutes, the door opened and he was being ushered into an exam room by the intern.
“Dr. Anders will be right with you,” the intern said. “And I’m glad to see you up and moving. That break looked brutal,” he said, shaking his head before shutting the door behind him.
No shit.
Finn rested his crutch against the exam table and sat down in a nearby chair, stretching his leg out and ignoring the twinge. Damn stationary bike. He’d used the upright one, knowing he should’ve stuck with the recumbent bike, but he’d wanted to test himself. The steady—okay, brisk—pedaling he’d done on the machine yesterday shouldn’t have caused the twinge he was feeling now. Stupid ankle.
He stared around the room, white walls were covered in posters with motivational quotes and stretching exercises, but he wasn’t feeling very motivated. He eyed the crutch with disdain. He’d wanted to leave it at home, but the last time he’d gone through PT, during his first, and only year of college, he’d always been in more pain when the appointment was over, so having the crutch would help him look less pathetic hobbling out of the office when they were done twisting and turning him.
There was a soft knock on the door before a woman in her mid to late forties entered the room, followed by a younger woman who looked vaguely familiar.
“Good morning, Mr. Finnegan. I’m Dr. Anders,” the older woman said, holding out her hand. He braced his palm on the chair and pushed himself to stand and shake her hand, ignoring the pain in his ankle. Fuck. He was tired of this.
“Good morning, Dr. Anders,” he said, biting back his irritation at the pain. “Please call me Finn. Everyone else does.”
“Finn, this is my PT assistant, Sophia,” Dr. Anders continued.
Sophia. Why did she look so familiar? Please let her not have been some random hookup—although those were few and far between, so the odds were good that he hadn’t slept with her.
Wait. He remembered meeting her when he’d helped crash Cheesy’s girlfriend’s dinner with friends a few months ago. She looked different. Her hair pulled back in a slick ponytail, but a few elusive strands had slipped through and he had the overwhelming desire to tuck them back into place. He fisted his hand on his crutch and reined it in.
“Nice to see you again, Finn,” she said. Her cheeks pinked and warmth rocked through his body at an alarming rate. He’d had the same reaction to her at her family’s restaurant, but now was definitely not the place for his body’s reaction. Hell, he hadn’t been interested in anyone in ages. Not that he was interested. Shit. She was here to help him.
“You’ve met?” Dr. Anders asked, her gaze resting on Sophia, and Finn straightened, refusing to get trapped in Sophia’s dark green gaze again. He didn’t have time for distractions.
“Yes. He came into my family’s restaurant a couple of months ago with a few of the other players. The team captain is dating my cousin’s girlfriend’s best friend,” Sophia said, with a grin. “I think I got that right.”
“Yep.”
She pulled back. Maybe that response had been a little short. She pressed her tablet tighter to her chest. He was an ass, but he was here for a reason—one reason only.
“Let’s get started,” Dr. Anders cut in, and Finn could only hope that the tension in the room was his imagination. He didn’t miss the fact that Sophia didn’t meet his gaze again, instead she swiped her finger across the screen of what he assumed was his chart.
“How often are you using your crutch?” Dr. Anders asked, nodding toward the infernal thing resting against the exam table next to Finn.
He cleared his head and focused on why he was in this room. Healing was the only thing he should be focused on. He could not fall into those deep green eyes and wonder just how soft her dark hair was. Or how her black pants stretched delectably across her ass when she turned to put the tablet down on the small desk in the corner.
Definitely not thinking about that. Shit.
“Finn?”
“Right. I rarely use it at this point. Just brought it here in case I end up in more pain by the time you’re done with me,” he said.
Dr. Anders laughed. “That’s how you know we’re doing our job. No pain, no gain, right? And as long as the pain isn’t overwhelming. That’s what we want to avoid in order to get you back on the ice as soon as your body’s ready.”
“Yes. Absolutely. By the season opener, I want to be back in fighting form.”
“I know, Finn. You aren’t the first athlete we’ve had in here. Stubborn to the core, every last one of you,” she said, but there was warmth, and good-natured frustration, not disdain in her voice.
“I might be the worst.”
“We’ll see about that. Now, let’s test your range of motion,” Dr. Anders said, and Finn shifted to get up on the table. He balanced on his good leg and hoisted himself up, ignoring Sophia’s offered hand. He didn’t need that much help.
“Sophia, please take notes,” she said. Sophia picked up the tablet, swiping through it again.
“Shouldn’t take long,” he muttered.
“What was that, Finn?” Dr. Anders asked.
“My range of motion is depressing, so it should be a quick review.”
“And that’s what we’re here for,” she said.
He didn’t detect any pity in her expression. He stretched out both of his legs. One leg was definitely smaller than the other. Maybe a few extra calf workouts wouldn’t have killed him. But he’d stayed off his bad foot, just like the doctors had ordered. Well. For the most part.
“What have you done since the cast came off?” Dr. Anders asked, as she tested and rotated his ankle after removing his walking boot.
He fought back a grimace. “Not much.”
She met his eyes. “This hurts?”
“I’ve felt worse. Just a twinge. Sometimes it throbs.”
“And you’ve done nothing? No working out. No jogging?”
“Of course not.” He paused. “I might’ve used the bike a few times.”
“It better have been a recumbent one.” Dr. Anders’ brow quirked up, and Finn felt like a kid getting caught climbing the tree in the backyard that his mom told him to stay away from because the branches were stripped bare and it was only a matter of time before it came down.
He should’ve listened to his mom since it’d crashed down with him in it and he’d broken his arm. Shit, she’d been pissed. He shook off the memory. Missing his family went along with being an athlete. She would’ve babied the hell out of him if he’d gone home to recuperate.
Dr. Anders’ voice cut through his memories again. “A few times? For now, stay on the recumbent bike. I hope you kept it at a slow pace.”
He bristled at her accusatory tone, not that it wasn’t valid. “Fine. I’ll stay off the upright bike.”
She shook her head. “Did you forget that you just got your cast off after fracturing your ankle in two places?”
“Of course not. But I need to ramp my workout back up. A small push to test my limits, at a slightly increased pace, is as baby a step as I can go,” he muttered.
“And when you reinjure yourself and have a setback, you just delay getting back on the ice.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he bit out.
“We are here to help, but you have to listen to us. I know it’s frustrating.”
He tamped down the urge to mutter no shit. The woman had no idea. Every year, newly drafted players vied for veteran spots, and being unable to play when the season started was not an option. If guys could recover from similar injuries and make it back in time for the season, so could he.
“But we’ll get you back there.” She paused, and Finn met her eyes, steely determination clear. “When your body is ready and not a minute sooner.”
“I’m a fast healer,” he grumbled, rotating his ankle and ignoring the twinge. He didn’t miss the quirk of a smile as Sophia watched him over her tablet.
Focus on the ankle, idiot.
Chapter 2
Flustered on her first day. This was going to go well. Sophia shook her head and focused on her patient. Yes, her patient. Not the star defenseman she’d watched play for the Strikers for a few years now. She itched to sink her fingers into his longer than usual blond hair. It looked soft. Inviting.
This was a test. Dr. Anders worked with many elite athletes, and quite a few of the Strikers since her office was affiliated with the team. Sophia had to get used to putting her hands on star athletes and not wanting to strip them down to nothing when she did. Blond Tarzan was a steep test her first day in. She glanced up at the ceiling.
Couldn’t have started small? Maybe with someone slightly less delectable? Someone whose jersey I don’t have, or wear during every game—home and away?
She pushed back those thoughts. She was a professional. This was her job and ogling clients wasn’t going to get her far. Especially on her first day.
Finn shifted on the table, clearly uncomfortable, as Dr. Anders tested his flexibility and strength. Sophia typed in the measurements and notes that her boss called out. Served him right if he hadn’t taken it easy, like he should have. Stubborn man. Sophia refused to acknowledge how adorable he’d looked when Dr. Anders had called him out.
This was a problem, and one she’d never had before. He wasn’t adorable. He was a stubborn and injured athlete. Not to mention, a little gruff in his responses. Not that she fully blamed him for being irritated about the situation, but injuries were common with athletes. There’s no way he believed something like this couldn’t happen to him at some point.
“I’m not telling you not to work out, or to stay off that foot, but you need to be smart about it. You can use the recumbent bike, but not the upright one for at least a couple of weeks, and stay off the treadmill. We are going to give you a list of exercises you can do at home to correctly rebuild your strength in that ankle. And we are going to monitor your right leg, as well.”
“I didn’t break that one,” he muttered, and Sophia tried not to smirk. Seeing the giant get scolded was surprisingly enjoyable.
Shit.
“When people injure one leg or ankle, they tend to overcompensate with the other one, which can lead to a strain, and possible injury.”
He shifted on the table, his wariness clear. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sophia focused on the exercises and manipulation that Dr. Anders was doing on Finn’s ankle. His foot was only slightly swollen at this point.
“Okay, that’s good for today. Sophia will give you a list of exercises we want you to do at home,” Dr. Anders said.
“Yes. We have everything printed out for you.” Sophia grabbed the stack of paper and handed it to him. His fingers brushed against hers, and the sparks of heat that rocked through her needed to go the hell away.
She moved around the table to grab her tablet. Anything to not touch him or think about the fact that he’d pulled away from her just as fast as she had.
“Do you have any questions for us?” Dr. Anders asked, no hint in the woman’s voice that the room was buzzing with sexual heat.
Sophia must be imagining things.
“Not right now,” Finn said, that warm voice heating her up again. His freaking voice. Maybe she needed to get out and start dating again. It’d been a while, and nothing serious in years. Not since Tony. No. She didn’t want to think about that asshole, not now, or ever. She brushed her hand against her ribs. No. She refused to think about him.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
Focus on work. On the job you busted your ass to get. Not on Thor in a pair of loose athletic pants that stretched across his thighs. Jesus. Thighs that were the size of her head.
“Sophia, why don’t you set Eric up for his next few appointments.”
Sophia faced her boss, giving the woman a smile that hopefully didn’t relay her NSFW thoughts. Chris Hemsworth had always been her go-to fantasy, but he’d always seemed more flexible than the injured Thor on her table. They’d have to work on that.
Stop it.
He was her patient, not some Greek god. He’d probably look amazing in a cape. And his hammer… Sweet Jesus, she needed help.
“Of course,” she said, opening the calendar on her tablet.
“I’ll leave you with Sophia to get you set up for another appointment later this week. I’m thinking at least three times a week to start,” Dr. Anders said, before handing him her card. “And feel free to reach out to us if you need anything or have questions. Just don’t overdo it this week. I know you’re frustrated, but we’re going to get you back on the ice in time for the next season, as long as you follow our schedule. If you feel like you are rehabbing faster than we expect, we can re-evaluate at that point.”
Finn nodded his head. “Thanks Dr. Anders.”
“When do you want me?” he asked, those piercing eyes open and warm, as the door shut behind Dr. Anders.
Ah, hell.
Sophia attempted to not swallow her tongue, as she focused all her attention on the appointment calendar.
“Umm, we want to do three days a week. Would Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays work for you? Same time? Afternoons work best?” she asked, meeting his gaze and refusing to get lost in the pale blue depths. It was truly unfair that the man had lashes that long.
“Sure,” he said, glancing down at his phone to enter the appointments into his calendar app. “But I can come in more often.”
“So you can speed everything up?” she cut in.
“Can’t hurt.”
He didn’t even try to dispute her, but gave her a shrug.
“Actually, it can. If you overdo it, it can set you back. Trust Dr. Anders, Finn.”
“I know. I’ll see you on Wednesday, then,” he said, scooting to the edge of the table, ignoring her offered hand.
“Yes. And don’t—”
“Overdo it. Yeah, I got it,” he muttered, and reached for the crutch.
“Keep that foot elevated when you get home and the pain should fade,” she said, focusing on her tablet again and making a final note in his chart.
“Are you listing me as disagreeable?”
Her head shot up. “What?”
He motioned toward the tablet. “Patient shows signs of pigheadedness.”
She couldn’t stop her laugh. When he wasn’t a grump, he was charming. Maybe too charming, if her nerves were anything to go by.
“Of course not. I went with stubborn,” she teased. “Call us if anything comes up, and we will see you on Wednesday.”
After he said
goodbye and the door shut behind him, Sophia sat down on the chair, still processing all of the emotions that had rolled through her during their ninety-minute session. That could not happen next time. No matter how appealing she found his gruff exterior or how his workout pants fit perfectly across his thighs.
She shook her head, entered her final notes, and headed toward Dr. Anders’ office. According to the schedule, she had one more patient to meet with. A woman who’d gotten a little overzealous in hot yoga and strained her back. Some people weren’t as flexible as they thought. That’s why Sophia stuck to jogging and the elliptical.
***
A few hours later, Sophia sat across from Dr. Anders as they went over her first day.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but our days are usually this busy. Sorry to just throw you in, but I find that’s the best way to see if you’ll sink,” Dr. Anders said with a laugh.
“I thought today went great.” She refused to show any signs of floundering, and aside from her inappropriate thoughts about Finn, today had gone well. A little overwhelming, but this office was much busier than the last one she’d worked in, and she’d known that when she’d applied for the position.
“It did. And we are glad to have you on board. Let’s see how the next week or two goes, and I might have you take over a few of our patients. You did well with Mr. Finnegan. Athletes, especially the pros, don’t want to be here, and they’re quite stubborn. Which is a quality I believe all top athletes need to stay in competitive form. Working with athletes can be frustrating at times, but helping them heal and get back to pursuing their dreams is worth it.”
Sophia couldn’t agree more. That’s why she wanted this career. And she’d take on any stubborn athlete that complained through their exercises and treatments to be a success in a field she loved. That was her dream, after all.
Finn settled on the chair in the exam room Wednesday afternoon and drummed his fingers on his thigh. He stretched out his leg, ignoring the slight throb. He’d given Kenny, his dog walker, yesterday off and had taken Bash for a short walk. He’d wanted to get his legs moving, but Bash was a puppy, and as obedient as he was, he pushed for a grueling pace. A pace that wouldn’t have fazed Finn before.
Delay of Game (San Francisco Strikers Book 3) Page 2
