“Thanks, but no. The last thing I need is to help you manage an assault charge. I’m not bailing you out from jail. I need to be careful with my savings now that I don’t have an income. I have no idea where I’m going from here.”
Shrugging his shoulder, he leans over and rests his elbows on the table. “Meh, it’d be worth it.”
“Right, and end up with a record? I don’t think Bethany would go for that. I like your loyalty, but I also like having a sister-in-law who doesn’t hate me, so I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”
“Hey, my wife would probably be more upset if I didn’t take her with me. She loves a good brawl.”
We both laugh, and I let my eyes drop to the drink in my hands. Picking at the label, I frown. “This just isn’t what I expected. I thought I had found my place, and I feel so stupid now. I don’t know how I could have been so wrong.”
“No, don’t look at it that way. Think of it like this, instead. You left because you didn’t belong there; you just hadn't realized it yet. Your place is waiting for you. It’s out there for you and it an even better fit for you. You just have to find it.”
Flicking my eyes up to him, he gives me a big, reassuring, brotherly smile, and suddenly, I don’t feel so heavy. Because he’s right. Although I loved working with the Vulcan’s, there was always an underlying anxiety dealing with Dr. Benson. He’d never crossed the line before today. If he’d ever been that overt, I would have walked out the door sooner. But still, there was always this tension. And sitting here, knowing I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow, waiting to see if Dr. Benson was feeling playful (and that’s a generous way to describe his behavior), I feel lighter.
I can go somewhere else. Be someone else. I didn’t know it, but I’d been the hot rehab chick there, the rub and tug specialist rather than the kick ass and competent clinician I know I am. I want to be known as the person who heals, who helps, someone who can be trusted. And I want to work someplace where everyone values that.
“You know what, you’re right,” I say to Brad, holding up my beer to salute him. “To a new place and a new start!”
“To a new start,” he repeats. “See, sometimes you should listen to your older brother. Not always, and definitely not when he tells you to jump from the garage onto the trampoline, don’t listen to that. But right now, my advice is good. I know you. You’re going to land on your feet this time, kiddo, not on the driveway with a fractured wrist.”
Chuckling, I nod my head. “Got it. Follow the advice that doesn’t land me in the emergency room!”
“Exactly.” Pointing his beer in my direction, we both start laughing again, and I do truly feel better.
Lying in bed after leaving my brother’s, I flip through my email and find a few messages from other teams that have reached out in the past few weeks about open positions.
I normally just respond to these emails with a simple reply, explaining that I’m not looking for new opportunities, but thanks for the interest anyway. Tonight, though, I read them all, twice and very carefully. One in particular catches my attention. A small private rehab practice, Solum Clinic. They’re currently working with the Silver Hawks, a pretty hot baseball team in the national league. I click through their website and I really like what I see. The facility looks sleek and new. The credentials of their staff are top notch. It’s clear they’re a serious facility.
The Vulcan’s are one of those teams that plays off apparel and souvenirs, signed memorabilia and the franchise aspect of being an American league team. But the Silver Hawks focus more on the sport and the players, not just the money.
I send back a quick reply telling them I’d be interested in speaking about positions on their staff. Within minutes, I’m happily surprised to have a reply email with an interview request. They want to meet me as soon as possible.
Maybe my career isn’t over after all.
Dr. Benson was wrong. There are plenty of people out there can see what I’m capable of. I’m going to prove him wrong.
2
Gillian
“You start tomorrow.” Cal Bernstein, head director and lead doctor of Solum Rehabilitation Services, stands proudly from his seat, and reaches his arm across the desk to shake my hand.
“Thank you, sir,” I say, following his lead and standing. Taking a firm grip of his hand, I shake it.
“Wow, you’ve got quite the grip there,” he says, shaking his hand as if I hurt him. He’s smiling, and immediately I like the guy. He reminds me of my father.
My father always says a handshake is your first impression. Nothing else: not your clothes, not your smile, not the way you answer questions, but the way you grip a hand.
Setting his hands on his hips, he ticks his head towards the door. “How about I give you the tour? I can introduce you to some people, show you the different recovery rooms, help you get the lay of the land? Is that all right with you? You got time now?”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Running my hands down the front of my dress, I look down at my feet. “Heels okay? At the last facility I worked in, they didn’t allow any heels in the rooms, didn’t matter who you were or what you were there for.”
“You’re fine. Come on, I think you’re going to like it here. And let me say, we’re really happy to have you. I’ve seen your résumé, and I’ve spoken to some of the clients you’ve worked with, and I’m impressed, Ms. Sannow. It seems like this is perfect timing, for both of us.”
“Please, call me Gillian, or Gil.”
“All right, Gil.” Carl smiles, fanning his arm for me to walk out the door ahead of him.
He takes me through the front office and introduces me to some of the administrative staff who work there. Everyone seems really nice and relaxed; I notice the difference between this clinic and my old clinic immediately. It’s something I hadn’t noticed before, but here, looking at all the smiling faces, the easy manner in which Cal greets everyone, I realize my old clinic was bit stuffier, like people were always on guard. Everyone I meet seems to be truly happy to be here.
This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.
“Through here is our main gym where most of the rehabilitation takes place.” Carl pushes open one side of the double doors to a giant space. Every piece of athletic and physical therapy equipment you can imagine fills the room. There’s plenty of space for multiple clinicians to work with different patients in relative privacy. It makes my previous clinic look like a dump.
“Wow,” I say, in awe over the size and organization of the space.
“Yeah, I like this room too. And it’s not because I designed it.” He smiles teasingly as he crosses his arms over his chest proudly and looks out at the entire room. “We have a few private rooms in the back for more patients with more specific or intense injury recovery plans, or for the players who require more privacy. Obviously, everyone we treat here has different needs and our objective is to figure out the specific treatment for each patient. There’s no “one size fit all” approach at our clinic.”
“No, no, no,” a loud, deep voice cuts through air, and steals my attention. “You’re holding it all wrong. You need to choke up on the bat more, don’t puss out and grip it like it’s glass. Really get in there, hold it like it’s your cock. You ain’t afraid to squeeze that tight, are ya?”
“Fuck off, Daniels,” the young man says.
“Fine, do it your way, but you’d never hit one of my curve balls with a grip like that.”
The young player gives him a stink eye as the man he called Daniels moves around the room. He approaches another guy who’s currently throwing a ball at a target.
I’m watching him from the corner of my eye while Carl continues his tour, explaining each and every station we pass. I can’t look away from Daniels, but I’m trying like hell to stay focused and give Carl my full attention.
“Mm hm,” I casually say, half listening, catching only a word here or there. But that’s all right, it’s all I need. I already know what he’s goi
ng to say before he says it; I’m highly familiar with all the equipment here.
The man looks a little older than most of the players in here, maybe late twenties or early thirties. He’s currently adjusting the stance of a kid who was just pitching, and the kid doesn’t look happy about it.
And yet, as he gears up and throws his next pitch, he’s spot on. Daniels grins, flashing him a smirk. “See, told ya so,” he says as he turns his attention to—me.
He’s looking right at me. Shit, look away!
Too late.
He’s walking straight for us, his shark like stare causing my heart to jump in my chest. “Carl, what brings you out of your cave?” he asks, holding out his arms with a playful grin.
“Ryon Daniels, they finally gave you the okay start therapy?”
“Yes, sir, they did. And according to the doctor, my arm is bionic now, sooo. . .” He draws out the word as he flexes his bicep. Wincing, he rubs his shoulder and shakes his head. “Almost there, eighty percent I’d say.”
“Well, that’s where we come in, or more importantly, she comes in.” Carl holds out his hand in my direction. “Gillian Sannow, meet Ryon Daniels. Ryan Daniels, meet your new physical therapist, Gillian Sannow.”
Ryon Daniels. . . The name shoots around inside my head because it sounds familiar, and a few seconds of staring at his face, and it all clicks. I know exactly who he is. Hell, anybody who watches baseball would.
Ryon Daniels, number twelve, and the famous closer for the Silver Hawks. Well, he was the closer for the Silver Hawks. After back to back shut out games last season, he tore his rotator cuff in the ninth inning of the last playoff game to win the division series.
I honestly didn’t expect to ever see him back on a field, let alone this soon.
My eyes meet his and I instantly feel a shiver run up and down my body. His eye are even greener than they appear on television. His jaw is sharp, his cheekbones high, and the big almond shape of his eyes makes his pupils giant like pools.
I’m falling in, my entire body leaning slightly toward his as his eyes just pull on every fiber in my body.
“Gillian,” Ryon says, stretching out his hand. “I’ve actually heard a lot about you.”
Instantly, my defenses go up and I feel offended. “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, my tone accusatory. After the accusations at my last job, I have no idea what sort of talk is floating around the rumor mill.
He looks at me oddly. “Uhm, nothing except that you know what you’re doing and you’ve helped out some buddies of mine.”
He’s about to drop his hand, but I don’t want to come off as rude before I even start working with him. Stretching out my hand, I take his and shake it, forcing out a little laugh to try to cover up how incredibly weird I just was.
“I’m sorry, I should be saying thank you. It’s really great to meet you. I hope to be able to get you back on the field very soon.”
He licks his lips, and I notice he circles the nub on my wrist before releasing my hand slowly. The tips of his fingers tickle the inside of my palm as he pulls away. It feels deliberate, not accidental at all.
Swallowing hard, I touch my throat and look off into the room.
“I’m sure you will.” The corner of his lip twitches slightly into a soft smile, and his eyes stay firmly set on mine. “I’m counting on it.”
“Well, let’s continue with this tour. I’ll show you the staff break room and where your office will be.” Carl slaps Ryon on the back as he takes the first step to break this greeting. “Ryon, go start your stretches. Enough messing around with my patients. You’re here for us to take care of you. Don’t get too comfortable here. We’re going to have you back on the field in no time.”
“Got it,” he says. “I’ll try to focus on my own rehab, but you know I’m a team player. I can’t not help these guys if I think I have something to add to their treatment.”
Carl half grunts and half laughs as he starts walking. Following him as he continues with his tour, I take a look over my shoulder. Ryon pulls his bottom lip in, biting down on it. His lids lower as he watches my ass, like he’s enjoying every step I take.
My body ignites on the inside, making my skin warm and my belly swirl.
No. Can’t do it. It’s unethical. He’s going to be your client, Gil!
Shaking my head to myself, I force the feelings away.
It doesn’t matter who he is, or how famous or how hot or how damn sexy and strong his body looks. . .
He’s off limits.
* * *
Spreading the oil down his arm, I begin to massage the muscle with firm, deep circles. He groans slightly, and I feel my pussy clench.
“That feels amazing,” he says as I press harder, using the full weight of my body to work out the knots.
“It’ll loosen you up a lot. Once I get out these kinks, you’ll have much better range of motion in your shoulder.”
I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard to ignore the fire in my belly as I rub this hot oil on Ryon’s skin. But it’s so hard, his back is rigid, built and constructed with perfectly shaped muscles and a nice round ass.
My fingers slip easily over his muscles, and every stroke turns my nipples into peaks and my pussy into a melting pot. I glide down his spine, then move back up, using a steady pressure.
Ryon moans softly, and I find myself going lower, stopping just above his ass, eager to tear the sheet back. Biting on my bottom lip, his glistening skin and hard body are making me hot.
“I’m going to have you turn over now.”
He grunts and groans a little as he flips to his back. My eyes move down his chest and I suck in a gasp of air. He’s rock hard. His cock thick and standing at attention.
“You, um, you—” I start to say, but I can’t get the words out. He opens one eye, and I softly point to his waist.
Ryon looks down and smirks. “What can I say? I like a good massage.” He smiles up at me, jerking his hips to make his cock jump. “I think he wants to be touched too.” Smirking, he licks his lips and wags his brows.
What do I do?
I know I need to decline and walk away, tell him it’s not appropriate, remind him I’m his physical therapist, and that’s it. But it’s Ryon fucking Daniels. Honestly, I don’t think it’s humanly possible. He’s sexy as hell, and no matter how much I try to pretend like I’m not turned on by him, my body betrays me at every turn.
My pussy is seeping, throbbing and urging me to just take him for a ride. My nipples are tender and tingling as they scrape the inside of my bra, begging for him to pinch and pluck them.
“Does he now?” I ask with a hint of seduction in my voice.
Ryon grins, his eyes licking up and down my body. “He does.” Rocking his hips, his dick presses against the white sheet.
I can’t stop staring at his cock. My tongue runs across my bottom lip as my mouth waters. “Maybe I can help.” I move my hand down the edge of the table, and slip it up under the sheet.
The tips of my fingers touch his outer thigh, and my skin sizzles as my pussy bears down again. I’m soaking wet. I can feel the damp spot in my panties as my heart begins to race wildly in my chest.
This is wrong, wrong at every turn. And yet, I can’t stop myself. I’m a magnet and he’s the metal, thick, hard and drawing me in.
Reaching the edge of his shaft, I softly curl my fingers around the base. Ryon instantly moans, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers as he pushes his cock into my hand.
Holding his dick tightly, I start to move up and down. Reaching the crown, I squeeze it in my palm, quickly slipping it back down until I hit his base. Up and down, up and down, I jerk his cock.
The sheet is still in place, but I can easily picture his dick. My fingertips barely touch as I hold his shaft, and the pads of my fingers run over thick veins and his plump tip. There’s a small wet spot growing in the center of the sheet, right above his cock. My hips are starting to roll,
and my pussy is pulsing violently.
I feel a tickle on my thigh, it surprises me, and causes me to dart my eyes to my leg. Ryon is moving his fingers closer and closer to my pussy, the tips of his fingers are stretching under the edge of my shorts.
Naturally and without a second thought, I spread my legs wider, giving him room. I’m moving my hand faster and faster as he reaches my panties and flicks them to the side. His finger slips between my lips, and he moves up my slit until he hits my needy button.
My thighs tremble and my knees almost buckle as he flicks my clit. I’m a dripping candle, hot, wet, my arousal slicking his finger. He’s rubbing my clit, when he suddenly spears my pussy with a single finger, drawing a heavy moan out of my body.
The more he works my pussy, the faster I stroke his dick. I can’t even control it, it’s like every move he makes on my body causes my hand to react on his. I’m squeezing harder, cupping his tip in my palm as I glide back down. He’s pushing his finger in and out of my pussy, curling it up so it hits my G-spot.
“Mm,” I groan quietly as I nibble on my bottom lip.
“You like that?” he asks, and I shake my head yes. “Good, I can’t wait to watch you come.” Ryon smiles as he thrusts inside my body with a second finger. “Come for me, baby. I want to watch you fall apart.”
My hand jumps under the sheet, and I feel his cock throb. His thick thigh muscles go rigid and Ryon’s eyes squeeze tightly shut as he pushes his hips harder and harder into my hand.
I’m so close, so fucking close to coming, and then. . .
“You ready, Gil?” Ryon asks, rapping lightly on the door of my office.
Opening my eyes, I focus on his face as he wraps his shirt around his neck and holds the towel in place around his hips.
“You were right, the sauna really does make my muscles feel looser.” Rocking his shoulders back and forth, he takes a step inside my office. I can see his skin glistening from sweat, and his chest flexes and his abs tighten.
Big Man’s Happily Ever After Page 25
