Page 26 of Tough Score

She points her spoon at me. "Nice try. You didn't go to college. You were drafted right out of high school."

"Oh, is that right?" I ask, an eyebrow raised at her knowledge of my career. "And how did you know that?"

She rolls her eyes playfully. "That wasn't a tough one. Most Hawkeyes fans know your draft history."

Okay... I'll give her a pass.

"I guess you're right. But if I knew you were the PT for a college hockey team, I might have skipped the NHL for another four years," I tease, dipping my own spoon into the chocolate ice cream and taking a big bite.

“Oh please, you would not have put off your career for four years just to see me in the PT room, that’s ridiculous. And besides, it would put us in the same position we are in now. We can’t date since I’m your physical therapist. The college had an obvious rule against student athletes and staff.”

“Well I’m not a student, though I’d be happy to learn anything you want to teach me.” And I mean anything. “And the Hawkeyes don’t have anything against players and staff. It wouldn’t be an issue if, for example, you and I dated.”

Her eyes shift from the commercial about the importance of deworming your pets annually and stares at me.

“Reeve, I’m your PT.”

“I know, I’m just saying that it’s not exactly a professional ethics issue if your employer doesn’t care, right?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’d have to think about that. And I don’t have a permanent job with the Hawkeyes yet. Plus, I still have a lot on my plate with this move to Seattle. I’m not in a good place to consider dating anyone.”

Right now isn’t a great time for me either. I didn’t want any distractions this season and now, if Dr. Morgan is right and I can’t rehab this knee, a distraction like Keely will be the least of my issues. I’ll be looking for a new career.

“I’m not trying to pressure you. We both have a lot to do over the next six weeks,” I say.

“Exactly. Let’s focus on getting you back on the ice.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Do you want the last bite or ice cream? I saved a marshmallow for you.”

She smiles over at me. “Sure, thanks,” she dips her spoon in and scoops the last bite. "You said you grew up in Alaska.”

"Yeah, I did."

"Then how did you end up playing hockey for a high school in Houston, Texas?"

A wide grin pulls at my lips.

"What?" she asks.

"You've been stalking me on the internet."

It's not a question--she might as well have just admitted it.

"Damn it," I hear her mutter to herself.

I got her.

"I…" she stutters, scrambling for a cover. "It's part of my job to know your injury history, and since I don't have a medical file on you yet, I had to get what I could."

"What does my medical history have to do with where I grew up and where I went to high school?" I ask.

She diverts her attention back to the TV, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to devise a better excuse.

"There's actually a lot of studies working to answer that question. Some research suggests that water purity and air quality could possibly play a big enough role in bone density as a child. Stronger bones lead to less injury."

She's grasping for straws and we both know it.

"Hey, Doc…" I say, pulling her attention back. Her eyes meet mine--we both know I won this round. "If you had a Wikipedia page about you I would have already read every word."

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