Page 33 of Pucking Secret

Coach isn’t having it.

He blows the whistle and shouts from the bench, “Owen, off the ice. Go get that checked out!”

I reluctantly skate toward the tunnel. Goddamnit, what a stupid way to get hurt. This shoulder hasn’t been an issue for me in months, but I’ve always known to be careful. Now, I’ve fucked it back up and all because I couldn’t tear my focus away from a hot redhead who has made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, and her adorable little daughter with her big blue eyes.

When I make it to the physical therapy office, Stacey’s already there with her supervisor, Janet. Fucking perfect. The last thing I want right now is for the woman I’m pining after to see me hurt and acting like a wuss. They lead me into an exam room and shut the door behind us.

“What happened?” Janet asks, gesturing for me to sit on the exam table.

“Got smashed into the boards,” I mutter, stripping off my jersey. “Bad shoulder took the brunt of it.”

Stacey stands off to the side, quiet but attentive, her eyes flicking between me and her supervisor.

Janet checks me over, asking me to rotate my arm and testing the range of motion.

“Nothing serious,” she says after a few minutes. “You have full function—just some soreness, right? Rest and heat should get you back up and running in a couple of days. Still, since you’ve injured this shoulder before, I want to keep an eye on it and have you come in for a little assistance stretching and working the muscle.” Relief washes over me, but before I can thank her, she adds, “Stacey, why don’t you work on loosening up the muscle for now? I’ll check back in later.”

Stacey’s eyes widen for a split second in surprise, but she recovers quickly. “Um, ah… of course. No problem, Janet.”

Janet leaves the room.

Just like that, Stacey and I are alone. The air grows immediately thick with tension.

“Lie back,” Stacey says, her voice professional but tight. It’s like deja vu. She’s as cold and standoffish as she was during my first exam with her. After my time with Millie in the rink, I kind of expected that Stacey would warm up to me a little. Her daughter didn’t have a problem doing so, but I guess I was being a little too optimistic that having the kid like me would win me brownie points.

I do as she says, stretching out on the table. She moves to stand by my shoulder and puts her hands on my arm. Immediately, heat shoots through me and I grit my teeth to keep from visibly reacting. She massages my shoulder, working the muscles there skillfully. God, her hands are so soft, but so strong. The pressure she uses is perfect and I feel my shoulder start to relax.

This feels so good. Her light vanilla scent is wafting over me and I struggle to keep my eyelids from fluttering closed.

Swallowing, I try to think of something to say to her to distract me from the sensations she’s provoking in my body.

“So, uh, physical therapy, huh?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual.

She nods, her eyes locked on what she’s doing with her hands. “Yep.”

“How long have you been in Denver?”

She shrugs. “A while.”

Not giving me a lot to work with here.

“What made you choose Denver to begin with?”

“My grandma’s here.”

Did she move here because of her grandma? Is her grandma in good health? Was she with Millie’s dad when she came here? She seems determined not to give me any real insight into her life, which stings. It’s frustrating, but it’s also confusing my mind and body in a bad way because as irritated as her clipped answers are, her touch is driving me crazy. Despite my best efforts to distract myself, my cock responds to her hands moving over me.

Ignoring my dick, I ask, “Did you meet Millie’s father here?”

She freezes, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly slams her impassive mask back in place.

“That’s none of your business.”

Ouch. I frown up at her, my stomach tightening with anxiety and frustration.

“Just trying to make conversation.”

“We should just focus on the massage.”

---