Page 24 of Chips & Checks
And yet… I can’t help thinking I should’ve been more than that.
It takes a second for his other words to register. “Wait. What bucket list?”
For whatever reason,that’sthe first question that makes Camden hunch his shoulders and scowl. “Ugh. I’m only telling you this with Violet’s best interests at heart. She’s going to have to give you the details, when and if she’s ready. Just know she has a bucket list that she shared with us one night during a game of Truth or Dare. And I guess I’m trying to protect you, too. Don’t get hung up on her, because she’s not going to be with someone like you. You’re something of a fuckboy. And Violet isn’t about that. In fact, I don’t think she’s been with anyone in a couple years. That is until… whatever happened between you two.”
With that, he turns and makes his way to the locker room, leaving me on my own. My irritation fizzles out as I stand there, absorbing everything Cam just told me. He’s not wrong. If you looked up “fuckboy” in the Urban Dictionary, my face would be right there as Exhibit A. I don’t mind having a reputation, so long as it’s one I’ve earned.
I don’t get why Violet’s brush-off is bothering me, anyway. We hooked up one time. By definition, it’s over. I should just go to my PT appointment and go along with however Violet wants to play this. Camden’s right. There’s nous. There’s just me, and Violet. Separate entities. Nothing to discuss.
I can do this.
I can.
* * *
The moment I walk into Violet’s PT room, my resolve goes right out the window. The shining curtain of her long hair makes me want to reach out and run my fingers through it. The whole room smells of vanilla and lemon, the same scent that lingered on my pillowcase the morning after our hookup. I have a strongdesire to wrap my arms around her, nuzzle my face against her neck, and breathe her in.
I’m standing there, mouth open like a dog that just got a noseful of steak, when Violet turns around. “Oh,” she says. “It’s you.”
I clear my throat. “Listen, about last night. And, uh, the night before…”
Violet holds up a hand to stop me. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Bowen. I’m going to be your physical therapist. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than a player on my patient list.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
She exhales, short and sharp. “Then maybe next time, don’t waste your breath giving a woman your rules like you’re doing her a favor. I already told you—I don’t date hockey players. So trust me, Bowen, I’m not looking for anything more. I don’t need the diatribe you were about to launch into.”
My eyes narrow. “I wasn’t…”
She gestures toward the treatment table. “Now, if you’re ready to act like a professional, we’ve got work to do.”
“Perfect,” I say. Except, no part of this is perfect. If my plan was to pretend like the other night didn’t happen, then why am I so upset by Camden’s response to my questions earlier?
Violet nods once. “Great. So, I’m going to start you with an evaluation—”
“Vi?”
We both turn toward the door. One of the other players, Chad Hawthorne, saunters in. Violet’s expression shifts into something more… I’m not sure what. Careful? Tense? All my spidey senses immediately go on high alert.
See, I know Chad. Not personally, so much, but by reputation. Our college years overlapped, and hockey’s a small enough sphere that I heard rumors. Girls who would warntheir friends to avoid him—that kind of thing. I never talked to anyone who had any firsthand accounts of Chad actuallydoinganything, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. Either way, the guy’s always felt…off.
But people can change, right?
Not according to the sudden tension in Violet’s spine.
“Hey, Chad,” she says, her voice a littletoobright. “What can I do for you? I’m scheduled to see Bowen now, so…” She trails off with a head tilt in my direction.
Chad ignores me. “I’ll be quick. Got any more of that vitamin stuff you gave me last week?”
Violet bobs her head. “Emergen-C? You can get it at pretty much any drugstore.”
“I forgot the name,” Chad says.
Violet swallows a sigh. Her eyes bounce between me and Chad. I can see the moment when she decides it would be easier to just hand him what he wants and send him on his way. “Sorry,” she tells me, “just give me one second.”
She crosses to the counter beneath a tall set of cabinets and opens one of the doors. A row of boxes with the Emergen-C label is just out of her reach. Violet pulls herself up on the lip of the counter and lifts an arm to reach. The struggle is kind of adorable, but I don’t want to tease her in front of Chad. Instead, I move to help her.
Chad gets there first. Instead of reaching up to grab the box, however, his hand brushes the strip of skin at Violet’s side that’s now exposed between the hem of her shirt and the top of her slacks.
