Page 9 of Wild For You
I fell asleep with that thought running through my mind and a small grin on my lips.
Chapter Three – Kelsey
In the Bears’ general offices, I had a small cubicle in the corner of the human resources area. Jackson—the other team’s physical therapist—and I usually came here to fill out paperwork on our off days. It was the end of the season, so the offices were busier than usual. Players came and went as they met with the coaches and promotional team.
I hated being in the office. The smell of the carpet, the blinding fluorescent lights, and the constant chatter. I much preferred the clinical area of the therapy room. At some team facilities, the therapy rooms were nothing more than a locker room. But the Bears had a state-of-the-art facility, and the players were required to come into the therapy room once a week during the season.
While Jackson was busy coming up with treatment plans for some of the injured players, I was tasked with creating new routines for the incoming players. Some were easy enough, with no past injuries to account for, but a few had old wounds that would need to be worked and monitored.
“Whatcha working on right now?” Jackson asked as he leaned back in his chair, the wheels squeaking under his weight. Jackson was a muscular man and one most women in the office fawned over. He had dark-brown, almost-black hair, piercing eyes, and skin that held a year-round sun-kissed glow. He was of Hawaiian descent and loved to complain about being landlocked in Tennessee. We tried to go out once but realized we were much better suited as friends.
“Just a new method of dry needling and blood flow restriction,” I replied.
Jackson winced and skirted back to his desk. “I’ll leave you to it. Want to grab some lunch at Skeeter’s today?”
“Maybe. I want to finish outlining these new protocols before I take a break.”
He nodded and went back to staring at his screen as the two women in the cubicles across the way made it clear they found him more appealing than their own jobs.
Just as I opened up a new player’s file, my phone buzzed on my desk, and Caleb’s name flashed on the screen with a new message. Well, the fake name I gave him in my contacts: Hotstuff.
Hotstuff: Do you know where my keys are?
Me: No. Did you check your nightstand?
He tended to remove all the items in his pockets onto his nightstand as he undressed. I’d only been to his place a handful of times since we started dating. He preferred coming over to see me at my apartment instead, so I didn’t have a good grasp on where he’d leave random items.
Hotstuff: Not there.
Me: Kitchen counter?
Hotstuff: Nope
Me: Couch?
Three dots appeared and then disappeared, then reappeared a few minutes later.
Hotstuff: Thanks. Down in the cushion.
I didn’t want to know why his keys were shoved between the cushions, but I knew he had gone out drinking with his friends and a few of the ballplayers the night before. I’d been outwith them a few times and knew they could get a bit rowdy by the end of the night.
My fingers hovered over the letters on the screen as I contemplated sending another reply. I didn’t want to seem too needy but decided to type out the message anyway.
Me: Will I see you today?
Hotstuff: Dunno.
“You okay over there?” Jackson asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. Sorry. Crick in my neck from sleeping wrong last night.”
“I could work that out for you if you want,” he offered, and I heard a moan off in the distance. The funny thing was that Jackson was offering sincerely. He’d worked tight muscles out in my neck before, and I’d done the same for him.
“It’s fine. I’ll just take a muscle relaxer.”
An hour and a half later, I’d compiled new documents on the incoming players and how I planned on working with them throughout the season with these new techniques, then sent them over to the coach and general manager. Just as I opened a new document for ideas related to the currently injured players, an alert popped up on my computer screen.
HR: Meeting in fifteen.
