Chapter 14

We shouldn't be doing this. Especially here. But no part of me wanted to push him away. In fact, even as I was telling myself we should stop, I was pulling him closer, pressing my breasts into the thick wall of his chest. What was it about him that was so irresistible?

"Come over tonight," he muttered against my lips. He tilted his head, taking my mouth deeper. The move caused his hat to fall to the floor.

I raked a hand through the hair at the back of his head. "I can't." I shouldn't. We needed lines. Boundaries. And one obvious one should involve no kissing him in the training room.

When he ran his tongue along my lower lip, I all but melted into him, forgetting all about that specific boundary.

But damn, he'd looked hot strutting in here, still dressed in his pinstripes. He was taller in his cleats, so I had to push up onto to my toes and stretch to wrap my arms around his neck.

The sharp knock had us jumping apart. I banged my hip into the exam table, and Mason took a big step back. He was running a hand over his face when the door opened and Cortney Miller, the team's GM, came into view.

He looked from Mason to me, then to the baseball cap on the ground between us. The blond giant ducked his head and stepped inside, wearing an unreadable expression.

Was it obvious to him what we had been doing?

A ripple of fear ran through me, taking with it all the desire and elation I'd felt when Mason was kissing me. Subtly, hoping he wouldn't notice, I pulled on my polo shirt, adjusting it.

"What's the verdict?" Cortney cocked his head in Mason's direction before turning toward me. "How bad is it?" His eyes were filled with a curiosity that had to do with more than just Mason's shoulder.

"Oh. Um…" He'd had me pinned against the wall a moment before Cortney appeared, so it couldn't be that bad. But I couldn't say that. "Seems fine. But I haven't gotten to do a full exam yet."

"Huh." He pressed his lips together like he was fighting a smile and cocked a brow as he surveyed us both again.

My knees wobbled under his scrutiny. Oh God. How long had Mason been in here? Probably long enough for me to have checked his freaking shoulder by now. He'd been pulled mid-game, so clearly, there was an issue. But I hadn't even considered it when he walked through the door.

Cortney bent, grabbed Mason's hat off the ground, and tossed it to him. "You dropped this."

Mason caught it. "Thanks." His expression was one of complete calm. He was breathing easily, and his lips were tipped up just a little, like they always were when he was playing his part as Mason Dumpty, star center fielder. How was it possible for him to be so composed? My heart was beating so hard Cortney could probably hear it from the other side of the room. And Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected over there just tipped his chin and muttered an easy "thanks." Ugh.

"Uh," I said, racking my brain for a reasonable response so I wouldn't look like a silent idiot. "We were going to try to put some heat on it before I looked at it. He didn't want me to touch it."

Cortney's eyebrow rose even higher, and he turned back to Mason. "Oh?"

His silent one-shoulder shrug was no help to me at all. Again, the man was totally chill while I was about to jump out of my skin. The need to confess and apologize was ridiculous. Cortney hadn't asked about anything besides how Mason's shoulder was. How was it even possible to give someone the third degree without saying a word? From what I'd heard, he had a teenage stepson who was all kinds of trouble, so I supposed he'd gotten good at interrogations. I needed to get out of the room before I spilled my guts.

"I'm just going to go grab the heat pack." With my head down, I scurried past Cortney and out of the training room. I couldn't even look at him. But when I came back in, I wished I hadn't left at all.

"Aurora was going to help me stretch it out. After the heat." He emphasized his statement by rolling his shoulder.

I kept my face neutral and my focus fixed on the heat pack, hoping I wasn't giving anything away. But no one called me by my formal name here. From day one, I'd introduced myself as Rory.

"It does make sense to bring a trainer with us on the away stretch. And you're saying you'd like Rory to accompany us, right?" A smirk lifted Cortney's lips, and I had to bite back a groan. "Or were you referring to someone else?"

"Nope. She's perfect."

My face flamed as I draped the hot pad over Mason's shoulder.

"Perfect, huh?"

"Yup." Mason lifted his chin unapologetically, and the ass didn't so much as flinch when I pinched his side as I settled the pack. He couldn't say things like that.

Rather than calling us out, Cortney, to my relief, moved on. "Okay, then. I'll run it by Beckett. Don't think he'll care."

"Yeah, where is the control freak? I'm surprised he's not here."

"Finn has T-ball."

"Already training the next generation of Langfields, huh?" Mason shook his head and chuckled. "It makes sense for him to even things out, I guess, since half of his siblings play hockey."

They did. Two of Beckett's brothers played for the Bolts, and the third owned the team. When I graduated and was looking for a job, working with the Bolts had been my first choice. I'd been thrilled when a position opened up with them, and I'd nearly passed out from excitement when I got a call from the Langfields. I'd hid my disappointment when I discovered the Revs were hiring rather than the Bolts, because a chance to work with either team was a huge deal. But I'd always been a hockey girl. I'd grown up in Cali, but I'd been a Bolts fan my whole life. And Dad would have died if I'd found a job with any hockey team. Which was why I'd applied for a few more positions elsewhere, even after getting this job with the Revs.

But suddenly, as I studied Mason, the thought of leaving Boston didn't sit well.

Cortney's phone buzzed in his hand, and after a quick glance at it, he focused on me again. "Email me the full report on the shoulder, okay, Rory?" Then he was gone.

Once it was just the two of us again, I blew out a relieved breath. But one look at Mason, and I kind of wanted to throttle him. The smile on his face made it obvious he thought the whole thing was comical.

"I hate you," I grumbled.

"Does that mean you're not coming over tonight?"