Edge(10)

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sitting down on the bright blue bench.

“Thought you might like some help.” I reached for his skate to unlace it out of habit. When one of the guys needed a leg or knee worked on during the game, I unlaced their skates so they could stay focused on what was happening on the ice.

“Here, let me,” he said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve got it. I’m fast.” I pulled off his skate and started unsnapping the bottom of his pants so I could access the knee he’d injured.

He stood silently and pulled his nylon athletic pants down. Even though I was a trainer who was used to things like this, it felt forbidden since we were alone in the arena. And looking at him felt different than looking at the other guys. I’d never wanted to look at their bodies the way I wanted to look at Luke’s right now. I focused on the wrap, securing it, standing and looking away while he pulled his pants back up.

“No reason to keep stressing the knee with all that turning,” I said.

He laced his skate and stood, arching his brows at me. “What do you suggest?” he asked, his pale blue eyes shining with amusement.

“We should practice passing. You’re in great shape, you just need lots of repetition on the mechanics you haven’t been doing for the past two months.”

He nodded, the chagrin gone from his expression. “Good idea. So you’ve picked up the game at this job, huh?”

“Here and there.”

“You ever play?”

“Nope.” I pulled a spare stick out from beside the bench and slid myself over the rink wall.

Luke’s focus was impressive. For the next 45 minutes, it was like I wasn’t even there. I’d pass a puck and he’d sweep it up with his stick, charge to the net and shoot. He never even looked at me. It was him, the puck and his stick.

“Let’s change gears,” I finally said. He looked over at me and then skated over, breathing heavily. “Get some water first.”

I ran him up and down the rink for the next hour, reminding him that his only competition was himself. I despised the words as I said them because they were straight from my dad’s playbook. He always told his players to strive to be faster and stronger today than they’d been yesterday, rather than measuring themselves against other players. It was good advice.

Glancing down at the slender silver watch on my wrist, I saw that it was nearly 10:45.

“That’s it for tonight,” I said. Luke skated my way and slid to a smooth stop.

“Thanks, Dell. I don’t know why you’re bullshitting me about having played hockey before, because you definitely have. This was a big help. Having you here to pass to me was huge.”

I nodded. “I can come back at the same time tomorrow if you want. We’ll be on the road Thursday night.”

“Yeah, if you can. You want to get dinner before?”

I shook my head.

“Ah. The man in your life?”

“I eat dinner with him when I’m home.”

“Got it. Well, I’m gonna stay and do a little more. Thanks again.”

I reached for his stick and pulled it from his hand. “We’re done for tonight. Go get some sleep.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. “Yeah. Okay.”

We skated to the bench and headed for the locker room together. I glanced over, studying the lines of his body. He was tall and broad. All muscle. I had no business ogling a guy who, permanent or not, was playing for the team I was employed by.

“My roommate wants to meet you,” I said. “She’s pretty – you’d like her.”

“As pretty as you?”

I was taken aback for a second before I laughed. “Much prettier.”

He smiled, holding the locker room door open. “I doubt that.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the compliment. I was used to taking shit from the guys, not being treated like an actual woman.

We changed into our street shoes in silence and left the locker room together. Luke switched off the rink lights and we walked toward the exit.

“How’d you wind up a hockey trainer?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve always loved the game. Plus, you know, the low salary and grueling travel schedule are pretty amazing.”

“Hockey gets in your blood, doesn’t it?”

Little did he know I’d been born with it in my blood. “How long have you been in the big league?”

“I went in after college.”

“What was your major?”

He grinned. “Marketing. Good think I don’t have to sell stuff for a living, ’cause I’d be shit at it.”