“Y’know, Walters, I’m a grownup. I think I can decide if I should be at practice or not.”
He shrugs, still giving me the side-eye. I focus on what I’m doing. It actually hurts like hell to get my pads on, though not as badly as it hurt doing the exercises Chloe left for me.
“Austin Sherwood, you son of a bitch.”
There’s no mistaking that voice. I have no idea how she figured out where I was this fast, but I’m impressed. I’m also impressed when she storms across the locker room, giant naked football players parting in front of her like the Red Sea. She seems completely oblivious, focused on me and nothing else.
I smile at her when she stops in front of me, fists planted on her hips. “Hey. What’s up?”
“You know exactly what’s up, Sherwood.”
She wags a finger in my face. It makes me wish she was wearing a hot librarian outfit.
“I said meet at the practice facility for your therapy session, not meet at the practice facility for practice.”
I hear laughter next to me and glance at Orrin. He seems to be enjoying watching me get yelled at.
“I’m sorry, Doc. I must have heard you wrong.”
“You—” She breaks off and glances around, seeming to just then realize we’re surrounded by half the team, many of them buck-ass naked, all of them attentive. “Come with me.”
“Sure, Doc.”
She grabs my arm and drags me across the locker room. I can hear the laughter following us, the assortment of lewd comments. This is honestly going better than I’d imagined it would. It’s so much fun to get her riled up.
I might feel just a bit guilty that I’m going back on my promise to follow her instructions. Not much, though. Her chains are so easy to jerk, and I just can’t help myself.
We make it to a quiet-ish corner of the locker room and she half-shoves me up against the wall.
Oh, baby.
“What are you grinning about?” she snaps, as if grinning were a federal offense.
“I like the way you’re throwing me around. It’s getting me all hot and bothered.”
Her face is starting to turn an alarming shade of purple, and I wonder if she’s been stress-tested recently.
“Although I have to admit, when I fantasized about it, it was just you and me, not you, me, and a dozen other naked dudes.”
Chloe absolutely flips her shit. I thought I’d seen her mad before—that was nothing. That was a high school experiment-type volcano compared to the Chloe-shaped Vesuvius that’s erupting right now.
“I thought we had an agreement, Sherwood! I thought you made a promise. Hell, I thought you actually wanted to play football again this season. Because you know what? That’s not going to happen if you don’t fucking do what I tell you!”
She’s so infuriated she’s spitting while she talks, and red patches have risen high and bright on her cheeks. I can’t help but wonder what all that emotion would be like if it were channeled into sex. She just might be able to give me a run for my money in the bedroom. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about a woman. Ever.
Then it starts to soak in exactly how angry she is. How disappointed she is in me. That’s when I start to actually feel bad for pulling this prank on her. All she’s trying to do is her job. And her job is fixing me. So why am I giving her so much shit?
Because it’s fun.
Well. That’s very true. But maybe I should give her a break before her head explodes.
“Okay,” I say, as if I never said anything outrageous at all. “What do you want me to do?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times as the red patches start to fade from her face. She swallows and blinks. I have to practically clench my teeth to keep from laughing. I keep my expression neutral so I don’t provoke her. I want to see what she’s going to say.
“I want you to get out of that football gear…” She pauses, obviously realizing what she said. It’s all I can do not to rise to the bait. She closes her eyes tight, her face reddening again, then finishes, “Then we’ll go do your therapy session.”
I give her a nod. “Okay.”
“Okay?” She looks more than skeptical.
“I said okay, I meant okay.”
“Well, then, okay.”
As promised, I go back to the locker room and change out of my football gear, trading it for the sweats and T-shirt I wore to the practice facility. She’s in the area behind the locker room where we cool down and get any necessary medical attention after practice. It’s empty right now since the rest of the team is out on the field at practice.
Chloe is standing by the hot tub waiting for me. Her expression is distant and a little sad. I wonder what she’s thinking about. I get that twinge of guilt again. I just watch her, soaking her in for a few seconds before I finally take a step toward her. She jumps as if I’ve startled her.
“There you are.” Her voice is calm, but her hands shift nervously on her iPad. “Let’s get started.”
“You all right?” I ask her, and her face tightens again.
“I’m fine.” She gestures toward the hot tub. “Get in.”
“I was expecting something a little more strenuous.”
“Not today. Strip down and get in.” Her eyes meet mine steadily; she’s not letting embarrassment get to her.
I decide not to tease her this time and instead strip down, but just to my boxers. I ease into the hot tub, which is set into the floor, the edge only a few inches high. As soon as I’m in, she touches the controls on the edge, and a few jets start working, gently massaging my lower back.
It feels so good I forget for a second that I’m here with a beautiful woman. The heat seeps into all my sore muscles, and they start to relax.
I moan at the sensation as my whole body starts to loosen up. After a few more seconds to just enjoy it, I roll my head to the side and look at Chloe. “We should have done this a long time ago.”
She smiles. “I’m glad it’s helping.”
“Why don’t you get in with me?”
Her face closes up. That was a step too far, I guess, but that’s what I’m best at. Pushing her.
“That would hardly be appropriate.”
“Aw, c’mon. It’s great in here. Warm, comfy. Some nice water jets. I feel like a big noodle.”
She chuckles, which is what I’m after. Getting her to relax. “You look like a big noodle.”
“Throw in some carrots, a little celery…” I trail off, watching her laugh again. “Soup’s good for what ails you, even if you’re one of the ingredients.”
“Just relax. Let all those tight muscles loosen up.”
“Yeah.” I tip my head back and close my eyes again. “Seems like you’d feel a little better if you did some relaxing, too.”
“I’ll relax later. On my own time.”
I hear her move, and when I open my eyes again to see what she’s doing, she’s checking the thermometer. “I could turn this up a little. Would you like it warmer?”
“Sure.”
She turns the knob and I watch her. Her hair swings around the oval of her face as she straightens. The water starts to get gradually warmer.
“C’mon,” I venture again. “Just put your feet in. You won’t regret it.”
She sighs. I think she’s going to protest again, but finally she reaches down and takes off her shoes, then her socks, and then she rolls her trouser legs up to mid-shin.
I give her a grin. “That’s the spirit.”
Her face tightens and she hesitates, and I wonder if maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But then she turns on the edge of the recessed tub and slips her feet into the water. She lets out a soft breath.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” She doesn’t look at me. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit I was right.
She has to be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, with the possible exception of myself. I don’t know how I’m going to crack that shell, but I know I’m going to do my damnedest.
“So just relax,” I repeat. “I get the feeling you need it.”
Her eyes fall closed as she says, “Why would you say that?”
“You seem stressed.”
She draws a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I am.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“C’mon. It’ll help you to open up.”
Her eyes flick open, and she regards me neutrally. “Even if you’re the reason I’m stressed?”
She has a point there. “Maybe especially if I’m the reason you’re stressed.”
With a little eye roll, she tosses me a glare. “You’re a massive pain in my ass, you know that?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I know.”
Her feet jerk a little in the water, and I know she’s tensed up again. “Why? Why do you act like you do?”
“Because it’s fun?”
“Maybe for you.” Her gaze jerks up to the ceiling, like she can’t bear to look at me. “You have no idea how much pressure I’m under right now.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“No.” She spears me with a glare that’s sharp enough to be almost physically painful. “You have no idea. None.”