Page 6 of Penalty for Boarding

Calvin's eyes narrow slightly as he studies me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Future seasons, huh? You really think this old body has a few more left in it?”

I can't stop my gaze from wandering over his body, taking in the broad shoulders, the defined muscles, the rugged handsomeness that seems to only improve with age. “Old? Please. You're in better shape than most guys half your age. And with the right training and recovery plan, I have no doubt you've got plenty of fight left in you.”

Calvin's grin widens at my words. “Well, with a vote of confidence like that, how could I possibly say no? Especially if it means I get to spend more time with my new favorite doctor.”

I roll my eyes, suppressing the flutter in my chest as we exit the studio. Being around Calvin feels right, but it’s also making little warning bells go off in the back of my mind. I work for the Fury. And while attending a Pilates class with him isn't a direct conflict, I am risking breaching my professional contract by advising an opposing player and by forming this…bond. I’m walking a delicate line that could easily lead to trouble if I'm not cautious.

As we step out into the bright sunshine, I squint and lift a hand to shield my eyes and perhaps put up a barrier between Calvin and me.

“So, doc, when's our next torture session?” he asks, stopping in front of a big, black truck that immediately unlocks at his presence.

“Torture? Come on, Barrett. You're tougher than that,” I say as I take in the impressive vehicle. It suits him perfectly—big, powerful, and undeniably masculine. Just like the man himself. “But if it suits your schedule, we can attend classes here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 6am.”

Calvin nods, opening the back door of his truck to toss his gym bag inside before turning back to me. “I can manage that.”

“OK. See you then,” I say, about to walk away when his big hand wraps around my upper arm and my breath catches involuntarily.

“I know I keep giving you shit, but I actually enjoyed myself in there,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. “Mostly because of the company.”

Calvin's touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I find myself ducking my head and trying to hide my smile. “I'm glad to hear that,” I manage to say, my voice coming out a bit breathier than I intend. “I, um…I enjoyed myself too.”

It’s then that I look up again and find myself immediately caught in his gaze, unable to tear myself away. We’re just frozen here, for…I don’t know how long. But when his eyes drop to my lips, and the distance between us seems to shrink, I start to think,holy shit. Is this man about to kiss me? Right here, outside the studio?

I stop breathing entirely, my mind racing through a thousand scenarios, the two biggest being—Give in, you know you want this, andStep back you crazy bitch. This could get you fired!

They both have solid points, but the first is backed up by my hormones and I find myself leaning in and closing my eyes…

“Oh my god, are you Calvin Barrett?”

A voice pierces the intimate bubble that's formed around Calvin and me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I open my eyes to see a stunning blonde woman standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with excitement and her cellphone already poised for a selfie in her hand. She's the kind of beautiful that stops traffic, with perfect features and a body that looks like it was sculpted by a great artist and belongs in the Louvre.

Calvin blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Uh...”

“Itisyou!” The woman rushes over, practically knocking me on my ass to get to him. “I knew it! Oh, I'm such a huge fan. Can I get a picture with you?”

I step clear out of the way, feeling like I've been doused with a bucket of cold water. And as the blonde bombshell drapes herself over Calvin's arm for a photo op, I take this moment to collect myself and escape the awkward situation. My heart is still racing from our near-kiss, but reality sets in—I can't get involved with a player from another team! In fact, I don’t think I should get involved with a playerever.I love my body for the strength it provides and the ability it gives me to help others heal, but no matter how much work I do improving my own self love, I don’t think my ego could survive all these groupies—puck bunnies—waiting in the wings. I take one last look at Calvin, his gaze already diverted to his newfound fan, and shake off any lingering desires before I start walking away from them, putting some much-needed distance between myself and what was about to become a huge mistake.

“OK, universe. I hear your warning. I’ll keep my distance,” I say to no one as I get in my car and head into work, doing my best to keep my mind on the job and far away from what happened in front of the pilates studio this morning. But that’s hard to do when I keep getting texts from him asking what happened and if everything is OK.

By lunch time, I finally give in and text back that I’m fine and I just needed to get to work. It seems to appease him fine enough, and I get through the rest of my day without a peep. But later that night, as I'm curled up on my couch with a glass of wine and a book I'm not really reading, my phone buzzes with yet another text. And while I tell myself I don’t want it to be him, I can’t lie and say that my heart doesn’t do a little happy dance when I see Calvin's name on the screen.

Calvin:

You up?

Me:

I am now, thanks to you. What's up?

Calvin:

Just checking in. How was the rest of your day?

Me:

Oh, you know, the usual. Patients, paperwork, trying not to make a fool of myself in front of pilates studios with attractive hockey players.

The moment I hit send on that, I feel instant regret and tap the message to edit that last line out. But when I see the dots dancing on Clavin’s end, I already know it’s too late, so I gulp down some wine and try not to throw up.

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