Page 17 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“Can we just change the subject?” I say. “I can’t talk about a client, and you both know it.”

“But we’re family.” Penny grins.

“I don’t care if you're Santa. I’m not discussing him, so you’re wasting your time pushing it.”

Knowing how stoic I am when it comes to my practice, Penny relents, and the subject changes back to Mom. She tried acupuncture for the first time last week, and she tells me how she thinks it helped her.

Later on, I give her some physical therapy, and then I help Penny get her to bed, which is now downstairs because Mom can’t climb up to her old room anymore.

*****

In the office the following morning, I don’t get a chance to speak to Sharon because the minute we both get our coats off, the phone rings. While she’s dealing with the enquiry, I go around the office, switching all the electrics on and doing the mundane things that make the office welcoming for the clients.

She’s still on the phone when I’m done, so I open up the Mac and type a search into Google. I was researching something last night, and I want to pass it by Sharon to get her thoughts.

She finally gets off the phone and sighs. “Your reputation precedes you, Miss Carter. That was another coach from a team nearly eighty miles away, wanting to know whether you wanted to come and work for them. That’s the third this month.”

I smile widely and just shrug. “Maybe we need to put something on the website,” I joke.

“No soliciting,” Sharon giggles, gesturing a huge banner. Catching the photos on the screen, she says, “How was your mom yesterday?”

“Better than last week, actually,” I say, adjusting my earring. “She was a—” I drop the tiny stud on the floor, and then I curse. “Darn it.”

Clambering behind the desk on my hands and knees, I search the floor for the tiniest piece of jewelry in the history of mankind while I carry on the conversation.

“She was a six.”

“Good. That’s better than last week.”

“Yes,” I say, patting the tiles. “Actually, have a look at those pictures on the Mac. I wanted to fly them by you.”

“What are they?” Sharon asks.

“They’re hydro pools. I was thinking of getting one for the clinic. They’re pretty—”

“Emma,” Sharon says.

I figure she wants to give an opinion, but I still need to find this stud.

“Just a minute. I know they’re expensive,” I continue, “but they’d be really great for the clients. As well as that, I think Mom would benefit, too. The nearest pool is thirty miles away, and besides—”

I finally spot the stud and grab it with my fingertips. “Got you.”

I’m pushing myself to my feet, while I carry on. “These pools are specific—”

I suddenly stop dead when I see Ryan standing on the other side of the desk. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, and when I look down at Sharon, she looks apologetic. I get now that she wasn’t trying to ask me something about the pictures on the Mac. She was trying to warn me that my client was here.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, feeling like I’ve been caught in a compromising position.

I do pride myself on my high standard of professionalism, and seeing one’s therapist with her head under the desk and her backside in the air certainly isn’t the look I’m going for.

“It’s fine,” he says.

I’m waiting for a sarcastic quip because he always has one, but instead, he just stands there, looking at me.

“Right. Er… Shall we go through?” I gesture to the door across the room.

For the rest of the appointment, Ryan just isn’t himself, and while I want to ask him if he’s okay, a part of me doesn’t feel like it’s my place. I mean, it’s not like we’re close or anything. He winces a few times, but that’s nothing new. What is missing is his bravado and witty commentary.

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