Page 34 of Rookie Recovery

Or maybe that was a bad fucking idea, and I should avoid it at all costs. Neither of us had suits. Though I had a feeling that wouldn’t present a problem to Bowman.

“How the hell are you wearing long sleeves?” His gaze was so heavy, I felt the weight of it on my arms, though I didn’t turn.

“My apartment is over-air-conditioned.” It was. And the cold shower after my run hadn’t helped. It wasn’t the primary reason, but—

“Uh huh. Sure. You think I’ll stare at your massive arms otherwise?” He was grinning again, and I tried not to feel it in my ribcage.

“Yeah, sure. That’s it. I’m trying to get into your pants with my sunglasses and massive arms.”

“I mean, it would work.” He stuck his elbow out the window and half-leaned after it. “Why bother having massive arms if you don’t let anybody look?”

“It’s not about the look,” I huffed. It wasn’t, either. It was about … about needing something else to fill the space where hockey used to be. Something else to make my muscles burn and ache, to fuel that need for pain and gain.

But I didn’t say that. “I like working out. It relaxes me.”

“You do seem a bit tense.” Bowie tilted his head sideways as he looked at me. That grin, that fucking grin. “Maybe you need to get laid? I know that’s my problem. Well, one of them anyway.”

Oh, my fucking lord. Down, boy. “You don’t have an off button, do you, kid?”

“Off? Nah, not usually. Not once I get going. Or when I want something.” He was still looking at me. Still grinning. And fuck, I believed it.

I was also desperately trying to convince my dick there were reasons to stay placid. There were—he was too young, too cocky, likely to forget me in three seconds, a fucking hockey player, my goddamn patient … Why was it so hard to remember all of that good, sound logic at the moment?

Fortunately, the pull-off for the trailhead parking lot opened up on the left, and I swooped the truck in on two wheels.

Cut the engine, jumped out the door and into the late-August heat. The humidity weighed on my shoulders like a physical force, and I was already sweating through the Henley I’d pulled on over my tee. No way it’d last a whole hike.

So I bit the bullet. While Bowie was busy shoving his water bottle and snacks and probably porn into my backpack, I swiped the long-sleeve shirt over my head and hucked it into the back, leaving only my white tee behind. “You ready?”

I slammed the truck’s door, started around the bed. My hiking boots crunched in the gravelly dirt of the parking lot. Bowie zipped my bag closed as I approached. Looked up—

He stared. Jaw dangling, eyes round as mossy green coins. “Holy fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I snatched the bag out of his limp fingers and headed for the trail. “I have a few tattoos. We walking? It’s only gonna get hotter.”

“Hotter, definitely, yeah—wait!“ He snapped his dangling jaw up and broke into a jog. Trying to catch up to avoid the very real danger of being left gaping beside my truck. “Wait! I have so many questions.”

My boots hit the rough rocky dirt, and the trees soared overhead, all but blocking out the clear blue of the sky. Earth and pine infiltrated my every sense. “Or we could enjoy the quiet of nature?”

Fat chance of that. “Are you … are you not just the super serious uptight doctor with a stick up his ass?”

“No, I am.” I tilted my head, like I was considering it. “Super serious. Uptight. Doctor. Not sure about the stick, cause I don’t typically like stuff up my ass, but yes to the other things.”

“Shit, Jamie. So, not a bottom then?”

I groaned. “For fuck’s sake.”

His boots crunched behind until the trail widened up so he could nose up next to me. Which he did. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough I felt the heat of him, the weight—the force—of his presence. “So …”

His eyes raked down me. Unraveling the colors and lines as he tried to read between them. I lengthened my stride. Increased my pace as the trail angled upwards. Nothing like a good burn of exercise to get your head clear of all the sharp, awkward things clanking around.

I was sweating. The moisture in the air and the heat of the sun stuck my shirt down to my skin. And that green gaze …

“All right, help me fill in the blanks here.” Bowie matched his stride to mine, moving over rocks and roots and bends in the trail with the same graceful ease he brought to the ice.

“What kind of blanks, Bowman?” I asked archly. If he could play games on my table, I could play games when he wanted answers. It was only fair. I leapt up onto a jutting rock, biting back a wince as my knee twinged in protest.

He leapt up after me, nimble as a mountain goat. “Just, you know, connecting the dots between prudish doctor—”

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