Page 4 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“Yesterday was just a bit crazy,” I defend myself with a smile.

“Sure. So was two days before that, and the day before that. I know you want to help people, Emma,” Sharon continues, sliding her arms into her coat and wrapping her scarf around her neck, “but you can’t help them if you starve to death.”

“I’m hardly starving.”

“Course not. I mean, that slender figure of yours can totally take one less meal,” she quips, grabbing her bag and whisking by me. She’s at the door when she suddenly spins around. “Did you hear the news?”

“I’m too busy starving myself.” I smirk back.

“Ryan Steele is back in town.”

Okay, I didn’t quite expect that, and as my jaw slackens with surprise, Sharon lifts her eyebrows. “Your nemesis.”

“Just go and get lunch.”

She leaves the office with a giggle.

Ignoring my initial thoughts at Sharon’s sudden announcement, I round the desk and tap a few keys, checking to see how many clients I have for the rest of the week. As I bend to look at the computer, my wayward locks fall forward. Even though I’m a redhead, I don’t have the typical fiery personality we get pigeonholed with. Quite the opposite, actually. But my hair is a different story. I swear, it has a personality of its own.

It doesn’t help that I slept in this morning, something I rarely do. Running out the door with it still wet means my ordinarily tamed curls are wilder than usual. Like they went to a club last night and left me at home.

“Sharon’s bound to have a hair band around here somewhere,” I mutter, my eyes searching her desk for the one thing I flew out of the house this morning without.

I’m still looking when the clinic doors open again.

“That was quick,” I say. “What did you do—?”

But as I lift my head, my eyes fly wide open, and I nearly freeze solid. For a second, I can’t speak, but suddenly remembering who I am and the fact that this is my clinic, I cross my arms over my chest and stand with my shoulders back.

“Hello, Emma,” Ryan Steele says.

I can’t believe he’s standing here only two minutes after Sharon’s quip. It’s nearly like she summoned him. I haven’t even had a chance to figure out how I feel about him being back. He’s returned to his hometown before, but we’ve never spoken. We’ve never had a need. I’m still reeling when my astonished silence prompts him to speak again.

“We used to go to Maple Springs High together. Maybe you remember me.”

“Barely,” I reply tersely.

And we certainly did not go to school together. We might have attended the same educational establishment on the same days, but “together”is a stretch.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him since school. We’re both in our late twenties now, so I’ve seen him around when he comes back here. Just not close up. His deep brown eyes haven’t changed at all, nor has the chiseled jaw. It’s a bit weird seeing him with a cane, though, and not being a groupie who follows his career, I deduce that he’s been injured.

“I was hoping you could fit me in,” he says, taking a limping step forward. “I’m back in town for a while, and I could do with a physio nearer home.”

Is that right?

My lip curls, and I tilt my head. “Surely, you have a whole team of medics who could do a far better job than me.”

“Well, that’s the thing—”

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Sharon whisks in, shivering with cold. “Oh, my word, it’s freezing out there. I swear if I stopped moving I’d freeze on the—”

As though her words have materialized, she actually comes to a dead stop, like she’s frozen on the spot. Looking from Ryan to me and back again, her jaw drops.

“Ryan Steele,” she gasps, like he’s some sort of movie star.

Of course, he loves her reaction, and with a beaming smile of perfectly white teeth, he says, “The very same. And you are?”

“Busy,” I interject brusquely.

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