Page 42 of Pucking Around

He nods. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Good. Then get rid of that dirty look in your eyes. I’m not Seattle right now. I’m Doctor Price. So, tell me, how long was your post-op recovery after your meniscus surgery? What was on your regimen of care? And do try not to leave anything out.” I pluck the stylus off the side of my tablet, glancing up at him, and wait.

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “Fine, Doc. We’ll do this your way.”

Jake wasa perfect gentleman for the rest of the exam. He answered my questions, performed all the range of motion tests I requested, and only groaned once when I did a quick check of his hip joints, my fingers prodding the muscles, checking for tightness or tenderness. I let him go with a smile and a quick promise that his starting position was safe.

My morning hurries along as I work down my list of guaranteed starters. All these guys are head coach approved for the active roster. So long as they pass my exam, they’ll be suiting up for the first game.

After Jake, I meet Lukas Novikov. He’s another defenseman. Tall and burly, he has a face that looks like it’s taken more than a few hits. But he’s kind and flirty. He seems fine from his treadmill tumble the other day, and I leave him with a tease to make sure he’s double-knotting his shoelaces.

Next in the door is Jean-Luc Gerard, the one the guys call J-Lo. The first thing I notice when he wanders in—besides the missing teeth in his smile—is the wedding ring on his finger.

“You married?” I say as I massage his knee cap.

“Yeah, Doc. Six years and counting.”

“That’s nice. You got any kids?”

The rest of the exam goes quick as he flips through his phone, showing me endless photos of his two little girls, who apparently spend every waking moment in princess crowns and tiaras. I snort at the one of him in the middle, toothless grin spread wide, with big circles of red rouge colored on his cheeks. Yeah, all the athletes I’ve met are tough guys until their daughters are born. Then they melt like butter. I bet he can name more Disney princesses than me.

He shakes my hand as he leaves, and I check my list.

“Kinnunen, you’re up next!” I call out to the crowded weight room, my eyes on my tablet as I close out Gerard’s file.

After a minute or two, I glance up, looking around the gym. No sign of Kinnunen. The man would be impossible to miss. I walk over to Novikov who’s about to get on a treadmill. “Hey, you seen Kinnunen this morning?”

He just shrugs, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room. “Maybe his practice ran long. I’d just skip him, Doc. He’ll show up eventually.”

I sigh, checking my list. “Langley! You’re up!”

I hear a clang from close by and turn around. “Great. Yeah, Doc. I’ll be right there!” Blondie gets up from his weight rack, smiling like he’s the star of a bubblegum commercial.

“Why don’t you head into the room,” I say. “I’m just gonna check something in the office.”

We part ways at the doors, him for the exam room, me for the standing-room-only office. I snatch up my phone, looking to see if I have any missed messages from Kinnunen or the goalie coach. Nothing.

I move through into the exam room, tablet tucked under my arm, as I text out a message to Hillary to get Kinnunen rescheduled. Tucking the phone in my pocket, I turn back to the tablet. “Alright, Langley. Let’s get star—ohmygod—what the hell are you doing?”

He jumps up to attention, eyes wide as his gym shorts slink to the floor. He’s standing by the table in nothing but his junk-hugging briefs, socks, and trainers. “What—I didn’t see one of those paper gown thingies.”

My eyes go wide as I hug the tablet to my chest. This guy is cut. There is not a single ounce of fat on him. And he was in the middle of a workout, so his perfect pecs are shiny with sweat. “Why the hell are you getting naked, Langley?”

Now he’s looking at me likeI’mthe crazy one. “This is a physical…isn’t it?”

I gape at him. “This—I’m akneespecialist, Langley. You were already wearing shorts.” I gesture to the pile of polyester at his feet.

His face blanches whiter than an almond. “But the other guys all said—” He pauses, and we just stare at each other. Then his cheeks go from white to red. “Oh, fuck those guys! I’m gonna kill Novy.” Then he’s dropping to his knees to snatch up the shorts.

I can’t hide my smile as I shake my head. “Just put your clothes back on. I’ll wait outside.”

The second I step out, the gym explodes with laughter. All the guys were apparently waiting to see what might happen. Jake is standing by Novikov, his arm around his shoulder. The pair of them are wearing matching shit-eating grins.

“See somethin’ you like in there, Doc?” Novikov teases.

“Who are you hazing here, him or me?” I call back.

“Both!” shouts a guy—I think is named Karlsson. He’s Swedish and very GQ-looking.

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