4. Theo

4

THEO

I can't stop laughing. I'm totally pissing her off, but I can't help myself.

She's adorable.

She bites her bottom lip. I remember what those lips tasted like when she kissed me at the bar. "Well, I'm glad you find this so amusing, Mr. Thompson."

"Just admit it. You wanted to score with a hockey player. You're not the first. Trust me."

She scoffs and peruses my folder.

I've got her rattled. She winces as she reviews the paperwork in front of her.

She clears her throat. "I've been reviewing your history and I see you have some stitches on your forehead that need to come out."

I point. "Right here, Doc."

She looks at my forehead from her seat at the desk.

"Do I need to take my pants off for that?" I wink. "It wouldn't be a problem."

She tries to hide a smirk. "I don't believe that'll be necessary."

"It may not be necessary, but it'd sure be a hell of a lot of fun."

She ignores my comment.

"We also need to take another look at that shoulder." She taps a pen against her lips.

Oh, she has no idea what she's doing to me.

She rises from her chair and moves to the sink. "Let's start with the shoulder." She soaps her hands. "How'd you get the injuries?"

I deflate a bit. "A little trouble on the ice." She knows exactly what happened. Everything gets recorded in our medical folder. "A fight."

She dries her hands on paper towels and discards them in the trash can.

She steps in front of me, and her familiar aroma of vanilla hits me right in the balls. I'm like one of those cartoon characters with bulging hearts for eyeballs.

Her hair's in a ponytail today and I want to wrap my hand around it and pull her toward my mouth.

She examines my shoulder. She grasps my wrist and lifts my arm. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"You've been working with physical therapy? Three times a week. Is that correct?"

"I have."

She sits at the desk and makes a few notes. "You ready for those stiches to come out?"

"Yep."

Her lithe little body moves up to my side as she examines the area on my forehead.

"You've had these in for three weeks?"

"No, ten days."

"Oh, I must have misread your notes. I thought the shoulder injury happened three weeks ago."

I sigh. "Yeah. The shoulder injury happened three weeks ago. The stitches happened ten days ago."

"Bend your head down a bit."

At this angle, I get a perfect view of her magnificent tits underneath that tee shirt.

She uses a pair of tiny scissors to carefully cut away the stitches.

"So, how'd you get the these?"

"I told you. A fight."

"I thought you got the bum shoulder from the fight."

"The shoulder was in the rink." I clear my throat. "The stitches happened at a bar."

"A bar fight, huh?" Her tiny scissors continue to cut away the stitches.

"More or less."

"All finished. You can put your shirt on now." She sits down in her chair, makes a few more notes in my file and looks up at me. "The bar was fun the other night, but I'm a professional and I can't risk any trouble. From the looks of things, doesn't seem like you can afford much trouble either."

I waggle my eyebrows. "It could be our little secret. I promise." I hold up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

She narrows her eyes and raises a brow. "You're trouble." She closes my folder and holds it near her chest. "I have a feeling you were never a Scout." She smirks. "And…if you were…I'm sure you broke every rule, code, oath, and promise. She chuckles. "You are trouble for sure."

"The good kind." I hop off the table and slip my tee shirt over my head. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me, sweetheart."

And with that, she leaves the room, and the door clicks quietly behind her.

I leave her office and have to get my raging erection under control before I suit up and join my teammates on the ice.

"There you are," Tom greets me. "We're just starting drills."

"Take your place, Moose," Coach Sullivan calls out. "Let's start running through our warm-ups, ladies."

Ladies. Ugh. Coach loves getting us riled up with that shit.

I can't get Francesca out of my head. The sweetness of vanilla. The way that shirt hid what I know is inside— what I saw at the bar that night. If I had to do it all over again, I would've screwed my early morning workout to have her in my bed. She's right when she says I can't afford any more trouble, but she is one temptress I'd love to break a few rules with.

Once practice is over, Alexie approaches me in the locker room.

"Your girl from da bar is our new doc." He slips the jersey over his head and tosses it into his bag.

"I know." I point to my forehead. "She took the stiches out."

Tom overhears the conversation. His eyebrows raise. "I think I need to see someone about my sore wrist."

Alexie lets out a deep chuckle. "We know how you got dat sore wrist." Alexie's big paw reaches down to his crotch and our nearby teammates howl with laughter.

"I was talking about when I fell earlier this week, you big baboon." Tom pushes past Alexie and opens his own locker.

Aiden passes by and ruffles Tom's hair. "Whatever you say, Tommy Boy."

Idiots.

"So, now what, Romeo?" Tom bends to untie his shoes. "You pursue her? You could get in all kinds of trouble."

"Give me a little credit here." I slip a clean T-shirt over my head. "I'm not going to pursue the team's physician's assistant."

Alexie hovers over me like a tower. "I say we do da bets."

"Oh, I like that." Tom rubs his palms together.

"Da bets?" I shake my head and dig through my locker for clean socks.

Tom laughs. "I'll put a hundred down that Romeo can't keep his hands off her." He lets out a wicked laugh. "And can't keep his dick in his pants."

"I'm in." Alexie pinches my shoulder with his massive hand. If he squeezes any harder, he'll cut off my circulation. "I do a hundred."

I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out the door as they pony up on the outcome of my life.

Assholes.