Page 16 of Pucking Sweet

I mutter a curse, rubbing the sore spot.

“I think it’s likely you may still have some intramuscular bruising from the fall. Rate your pain for me on a scale of one to five.”

“Uhh…yeah, like a one,” I say with a shrug.

She looks up at me. “Do you want me to squeeze the knee again?”

I hold her gaze. “It’s a two.”

She nods. “The most I want you doing today is a leisurely walk on the treadmill. Otherwise, you’re on the RICE regime for the rest of the week. Rest, ice—”

“Compression and elevation,” I finish for her. “Yeah, I know the deal.”

“Good. Because we want you in top shape for the season starter. No weights, no high impact. Doc Tyler did your initial checkup after the fall,” she goes on, picking up her tablet. “And he says here that he’s confident there’ll be no lasting damage so long as you rest, ice, compress—”

“And elevate. Yeah, I got it.”

She surveys me for a second before nodding. “Good. And hey, Novy?”

“Yeah, Doc?”

She holds my gaze. Fuck, she looks as serious as Poppy. “Within the four walls of this practice center, you can call me Doc, Rachel, Doc Price, or Doctor Rachel Price. What you willnotcall me is Hot Doc. Agreed?”

I nod. “You got it, Doc.”

“Good. You will also not lie about pain or minimize your injuries. I’m on your side, Novy. Your pain is my pain. Tell me the truth. That’s how we keep you on the ice longer. Agreed?”

Searching her face, I give her my truth. “My hip hurts from the fall. It’s still a little bruised…worse than the knee. I’ve been popping ibuprofen like candy.”

She smiles. “Thank you, Novy. That’s very helpful. Now, lie back on the table, and let’s do these range of motion exercises. I promise to be gentle as a lamb. And I’ll check that hip while we’re at it.”

Ten minutes later, she’s tapping my shoulder. “Okay, you’re all good to go. Stick to the RICE regime, like I said. If anyone from strength training gives you any problems this week, direct them to me.”

“You got it,” I say, sitting up and swinging my legs off the table. “Hey—do you mind if I wash my hands in here before I duck out?”

She’s got her eyes back on her tablet. “Be my guest.”

Cool as a cucumber, I saunter over to the sink and make a show of turning the water on and noisily pressing the soap dispenser. Then I reach out and gently pluck her keys off the counter. Quick as I can, I tuck them in my pocket. “Ooookay,” I call, jerking a few paper towels out of the holder. “Thanks for everything, Doc.”

“Yeah, just make sure you double-knot your shoelaces from here on out, okay?”

I spin around and give her a lame-o salute. “Right you are, Doc. I’ll just see myself out, eh?”

She follows me to the door and I duck out as she calls for J-Lo. He’s ready and waiting, flashing her that endearing, toothless smile. As soon as she steps into the exam room with him, I snap my fingers at two of the young farm team guys. “Patty, Flash Gordon, on me.”

“Yeah, boss?” says Flash.

“I need your help with something top secret. Can you do it?”

Their eyes brighten. God, rookies can be so easy. These two can’t be a day over nineteen.

“Yeah, anything you need,” says Patty.

On principle, I hand the keys to Flash Gordon, starting with my own. “Okay, here’s the deal,” I say, lowering my voice. “I need you to go down to the parking garage and find my truck. Inthe back, you’ll find a ball pit’s worth of colored balls tied up in black garbage bags. You both with me so far?”

Flash nods, taking the keys. “Truck, bags, balls. Got it.”

Fuck, these guys get to vote in this country.

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