Page 25 of Tough Score

"Give me your worst Doc, I can handle it. If I couldn't, I wouldn't have survived the last twenty-five years of my life dedicated to a career in hockey."

"I'm going to remind you of the big talk you just laid down when you're on your knees begging me for mercy when we start getting to the real work."

"Keke," he says, leaning over the island and using a new nickname that I've never heard him use before. "I have no doubt in my mind that before this is all over, you'll have me on my knees...begging."

We hold each other's stare for a moment, and then I clear my throat. No matter what I want or what he wants, I have to remind myself that being his PT is the only thing that can happen between us or else it could cost him sponsorship deals or even his career.

He doesn't know it yet, and I'm too embarrassed to tell him, but getting involved with me isn't worth it.

"Come on. My knee is starting to hurt," he says. "Come sit with me and watch the Discovery channel while I ice it."

"Oh... you're actually serious about the Discovery Channel?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, only a psychopath would lie about that. But first, let's get you out of the scrubs," he says heading for his bedroom.

I follow him into his room—he pulls out one of his old high school hockey t-shirts and a pair of boxer briefs. "They might be a little big on you but they're better than the scrubs you have."

"You don't like the scrubs?" I ask.

"It makes me feel like you're an in-home care nurse, and I'm your geriatric patient. I'm all for role-play, but with the potential of retiring from hockey if I don't recover back to optimal condition, it hits a little close to home, you know?"

I just chuckle and pick up the clothes he lays on the bed.

"Good to know. I won't wear the scrubs anymore if you don't like them. How about you head for the couch and get comfortable? I'll change, and then I'll grab the ice pack."

"I think I have a brand-new gallon of Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer. Grab two spoons."

He starts working his way slowly to the couch.

For the love of God, Keely... you're so close to your dream of working for a professional team.

Whatever you do, don't fall in love with Reeve Aisa.

Chapter Eight

Reeve

Sitting here next to Keely on my couch, eating ice cream with her in my clothes, and watching the large Alaska fishing vessel show is the last thing I would have thought I'd be doing right now, but here we are.

The best part about tonight is the information dumps she gives me during the commercial breaks.

My knee is killing me right now, but I won't let Keely see the pain it's causing me. She set me up with a spot on the couch and scrounged around the house to find every pillow she could for elevating my leg. She keeps on top of making sure that I have a new ice pack from the freezer each hour to keep the pain down to a dull throbbing instead of the sharp stabbing pain it is if the ice pack gets too warm.

If she thinks I'm managing the pain well enough with ice packs, I’m hoping she’ll stop asking about why I won't take anything for the pain.

Everyone has a piece of their past that they'd rather not drum up, and I'm no different.

I watch as she dips her spoon into the carton of Rocky Road ice cream that I'm holding up in my hand for her. And then I watch as her full pink lips wrap around the spoon to take her bite.

I've never wanted to be a piece of stainless steel before in my life... not up until now.

I shake the thought of being licked clean by Keely and keep on the conversation moving before the commercial breaks ends.

"You used to be a PT for a college football team? If I had had you as my PT in college, I think I might've tried to get injured on purpose just to see you," I say.

She tilts her head back and laughs. It's too early to be this addicted to her but it's too late.

I'm already hooked.