Page 2 of Off Limits PUCK

“Here he is. His name’s Nico. We didn’t get into anything sexual, but we did pretend that we were engaged so we could get a free dessert at a restaurant there!” Kenz laughs.

I listen patiently as she tells me about her adventures in Greece. Something changed in her about two years ago. She was dating a man she’d matched with on a high profile dating app she paid to be on. I guess he was a celebrity or something—she never told me his name. But she hasn’t slept with a guy since. It’s like she’s scared to be hurt. Because of this, all of her stories are the same. She meets a guy, flirts, but that’s it.

“He is cute,” I say. “Just not cute enough for you to actually get to know him?”

She laughs flippantly, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “And have another dude play me? No thanks. Look, Allie.” She brushes an invisible speck of dust off my kitchen counter.

“Oh boy, here comes the same lecture I got from my mom! I know not to date anyone I work with. I know not to date anyone I work for! And that includes hockey players.”

“But you don’t know what it feels like to be there surrounded by testosterone fueled men in a NHL hockey locker room! It’s… a lot. I just don’t want you to be taken off guard and not know how to handle it when they toy with you.” There’s venom in her tone.

“Did Jake tell you all about hockey players, or something?” I’m growing a tad impatient. Both Kenz and my mom are choosingto rain on my parade of excitement instead of being happy for me.

“Yes,” she says honestly. “I also just know. Pro athletes are bad news. Don’t trust any of them.” She wags a playful finger at me, her tone lightening up. “Don’t be alone with any of them. Don’t give your number out. And most definitely do not date any of them!”

We finally change the topic and manage to have a fun evening together, but after Kenz leaves, her words stay with me. I hadn’t considered what I would do if one of the guys on the team flirts with me or asks for my number. I guess I just thought that since I knew it was not proper to date anyone on the team I’m working for, that they would know it, too.

“Damn, at least you and I are happy for me,” I say to my reflection as I stand before my mirror, doing my nighttime creams and potions routine on my skin. “Just two more days, and then I’ll be at the arena, touching all those hot bodies—professionally, of course!”

I laugh a little at my joke, but honestly, I’m nervous. Am I physically strong enough to do some of the stretching and deep tissue work I often have to do on patients—but can I do that on muscled athletes?

I’ll just have to try my best. My phone dings with a text. It’s Kenz. She’s sending me a photo from a gossip news outlet. It’s an article about the team who won the Stanley Cup last year—and how hard they partied afterwards, including with some womenthey picked up. Apparently, the women did a “tell all” after the experience. And boy, as I skim the gossip column, I actually blush.

Kenz is right—athletes can be very immature and womanizers. I will not be fantasizing about them at all… except for one. And that one I’ll keep a secret.

I slip into bed, my mind thinking about the last time I saw Jake. We shook hands—weird!—like two adults and he said congratulations to me for graduating college. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen him in person. But when his hand touched mine, it awakened a thousand desires in me that I didn’t know I had hidden deep inside me.

I reach for my vibrator in my bedside table. I know I shouldn’t touch myself thinking of my best friend’s brother, but sometimes I just have a craving for him. And in my mind, when I’m dreaming up hot encounters with Jake, it’s so vivid and fueled with so much emotion that it absolutely feels real.

And in two days, on Monday morning, I will be in the same building, the same room, as Jake Williams. I give myself two orgasms imagining all the ways I want him to ravage me…

Chapter two

Jake

“I’m open!” I shoutin annoyance during our eight a.m. scrimmage.

This is the third time in an hour that I’ve been wide open in front of the hockey net, but my teammates have not given me the puck. Sure, it’s just a scrimmage, but they are babying me. I hate it. I’m a grown man and if I say my shoulder isn’t hurting me, then they should give me the damn hockey puck!

“Look, Gator,” I say to Eric as a water break is called. Eric is a player on my line from Florida, hence the nickname Gator. “Stop being a Scrooge and share the freaking puck.” I glare at him and whack my hockey stick on the ice.

He shakes his head, pulling his helmet off, sweat streaming down his face. “Orders came from the team owner. We leave you alone until you’re cleared.”

I grit my teeth. “Iamcleared. Juan cleared me, you idiot.” Juan is my PT the team assigned to me years ago. Now, the guy up and retired and is moving to California. Rotten luck.

“Yeah, well, sorry to break it to you, but we all know you had Juan in your back pocket,” Gator says, doing circles around me on the ice.

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, as if I don’t know already.

“You were like a son to the old guy. He’d believe you even if you lied to his face. And you did lie about that bum shoulder of yours.” He goes as if to punch my shoulder, and I accidentally wince as I prepare to avoid the hit. But he was just faking it; he wasn’t going to really punch my shoulder. He frowns at me. “See what I mean? If I’d done that to you before the injury, you’d literally lean into my punch. You’re not okay, man. Stop lying to yourself.”

“Since when did you become my father?” I grouch at him. “If I wanted a lecture, I’d call home.”

“I’m just worried about you,” he says, sounding more like a brother than a close friend. “I mean, if you take early retirement, they’ll transfer some asshole forward hotshot to take your place.”

“I am an asshole.” I use my stick to maneuver the puck in front of his stick, baiting him. “I didn’t spend a decade building that rep just for you to tell me I’m not.” I wink at him.

“Just,” he says and pauses, trying to steal the puck from me, “just be honest today, okay?”

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