Page 18 of Filthy Ruck

Past Chelsea should have turned them down, but that was a problem for future Chelsea.

“Daniel Frost,” Doctor Stuart said. “I believe you're familiar with the players and their positions.”

Was that a deliberate choice of words, or was I reading more into what he was saying? Probably the latter. Doctor Stuart didn't seem like the type to use innuendos, especially in this context.

“I know what they all play, and I understand the strain each position can put on specific parts of their bodies,” I said, trying to sound as clinical as possible. “I read through the file you sent me, outlining their past injuries and anything that may be an ongoing concern. I recall that Frost broke his collarbone in the season before last, that could have ended his career.” It hadn't, but he'd been out for a while as he recovered.

“We're fortunate some of the players follow orders when they're told to take it easy,” Doctor Stuart said gruffly. “Most of them, if I'm honest. None of them want a career-ending injury. Or any injury, for that matter. They rail against restrictions, but when it comes down to it, this is their job. If they can't perform, then their rugby playing days are over. That's quite an incentive to behave.”

I smiled. “I can just imagine you've had your share of…frustration.”

He chuckled. “You could say that. But every single one of them knows we're here for them. We want the same thing they want. For them to be back out on the field as soon as possible. The only way for that to happen is for them to listen to us.” He hesitated.

“Is this where you say they may not let me boss them around because I'm a woman?” I asked.

“They may push back harder against you than they would against me,” he agreed. “Not just because you're a woman. You're also new, and still a student. Give them some time; they'll learn to respect you. I recommend not showing them any fear. The moment you do that, you've lost them. I wouldn't like to see that happen. What I've seen of your work so far, you're very promising. I think you'll fit in here. However, before I can give my recommendation, I need to be sure you can work with these men. If you let them walk all over you, they will.”

“I haven't let anyone walk all over me yet,” I said.

Let Storm think whatever he wanted to think, and say whatever he wanted to say. When he was here, under my care, he'd do what I told him to. No matter how much he hated the idea.

He vaguely patted my hand. “I didn't think you would. This job isn't an easy one, but it's very rewarding. We work with some of the best rugby players on the face of the planet. Elite athletes who put two hundred percent into everything they do. They need to be precise and so do we. We need to be more accurate than a Swiss clock. Three hundred percent of the time. If you're willing to put in the work, you'll reap the rewards.”

“I'm ready to reap.” I grinned. “And I'm ready to work my ass off.” If anyone doubted I could do this, they'd be proven wrong quickly enough.

“But your ass is so cute,” a voice said from the doorway.

I turned to see Daniel Frost leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at his ankles. Boyish mischief danced in those blue eyes of his. His blond hair was cut short, making him look more like a male model than a rugby union player.

He blinked a couple of times and frowned, as though trying to figure out where he knew me from.

Doctor Stuart clicked his tongue. “What have we said about sexually harassing the medical staff?”

Frost slid him a sly look and a grin. “Only harass the cute ones?” He held up a hand. “I don't mean to imply that you're not cute, Doctor. You're adorable. In an old-enough-to-be-my-grandfather kind of way.”

Doctor Stuart snorted softly. “Why don't you sit down on the treatment table? Doctor Miller can get started looking you over. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Doctor Miller, hmmm?” Frost said after Doctor Stuart had left. He lay down, his hands laced under his head, ankles crossed. A faint smile curved the corners of his mouth, like he knew something I needed to catch onto ASAP.

“That's right,” I said. “You can call me Chelsea if you want to.” I pulled on a pair of gloves and rolled the sphygmomanometer over to test his blood pressure.

“You can call me Frost,” he said. “Unless you prefer Daddy.” He grinned again, popping a dimple in each cheek.

“Do you flirt with all the doctors like this?” I gestured for him to push up his sleeve and placed the cuff around his muscular bicep.

“Only the ones I've seen naked,” he said, making no attempt to keep his voice down. “Yes, I recognise you. Not gonna lie, it took me a minute. You look different with your clothes on.” His eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“You look different when you're not walking out of a private room,” I retorted. If he was offering a thinly veiled threat, he'd get one in return.

His face paled slightly. “So we can agree to keep things professional?”

I leaned in and whispered, “I won't tell if you don't. Now, keep still and think less stressful thoughts, or your blood pressure is going to be compromised by this…conversation.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor.” He was immediately still, stiff as a board. “You know it was only…”

“I know,” I said. “Nothing to be ashamed of. You really need to relax. The last thing you want is for me to say you can't play because your blood pressure is too high. Let's talk about something else. Puppies.”

“Puppies?” He frowned.

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