I grunted out a laugh. "I'll have a nice time reminding him of that later."
Her face relaxed for probably the first time since I'd met her. "I wish I could see his face when you tell him."
She gave me a cute smile, one that seemed sincere, like one she would share with a friend she'd known for a while. Maybe those walls of hers were coming down slowly.
"You're more than welcome to hang around … Ouch!" I was so busy admiring the expression on her face that I didn't notice she had placed the ice pack at the top of my left leg just under the hem of the athletic shorts I was wearing. "That's fucking cold. Do you have to put that pack so close my boys?"
"Quit your whining … and ease up on the profanity, will you? It should really be applied as close to the injury as possible." She blushed and looked away, grabbing another wedge from her supplies. "That means you'll need to make some room to get it up even closer."
Hello.
I couldn't help but play with her now.
"Oh, so I should take my shorts off?" I immediately tugged on them at the waist.
"Uh, that won't be necessary. We only need to get this compression sleeve down your thigh a bit." She averted her eyes from my groin. No doubt, she was fighting something. Too bad it would be a losing battle.
"I'll get it out of the way." I quickly set the ice pack beside me, letting out a grunt and grimacing in pain as I lifted my hips from the table. I wasn't kidding, either. That marginal movement was enough to send pain shooting down my leg.
She tried to stop me, but it was halfway down already. "Don't. I told you, those shorts are fine."
"Yeah well, too late. I'll have a hell of a time putting it back on now … unless you want to help."
"Keep it down. It's fine."
I lifted my eyebrows. "You may as well finish the job."
Rolling her eyes, Samantha slowly slid the shorts from where I'd dragged them until they were down past my knees, careful not to upset my leg too much. I was glad I wore briefs today. They didn't leave much to the imagination. Her eyes cut to my bulge a few times. I kept looking at her face for a reaction. She was wide-eyed, and her lips parted a bit, but she must have caught herself because she took a breath, clearing her throat.
"Cat got your tongue?" I asked, grinning.
"No." She peeled the compression sleeve down my thigh, appearing relieved when it was all over, and she placed the ice on my leg again. "Now," she breathed, "let's get back to your therapy plan." She sounded anxious, out of breath.
No way.
The sight of my package through my briefs did that to her?
I know I was big, but hell, it wasn't a kickstand or some monstrosity. Yet her chest rose and fell like she was on the verge of a panic attack.
"Are you okay?" I had to ask.
"I'm fine," she squeaked. Man, she was tense. I decided to give her some time to relax. There was no reason to rile up a broad who just had her hand near my Johnson.
She picked up my file again. "About next week … " Her voice still wavered. "On Monday we'll start using heat on the muscles to kick off the recovery phase. From your course schedule, it looks like you're free every day from two in the afternoon. Can you meet me at the center?"
"That's no problem."
"You can go without crutches and should be fine to drive, but if the pain is too much, let me know and I'll reserve one of the shuttles to pick you up. We can start on the hydrotherapy pool and underwater treadmill, using heat to improve your circulation before we add to the workout. Make sure you bring swim trunks and an extra set of workout clothes."
"So I'll be there every day?"
She peered at me from over the file. "Yes. At the center. Every day, Monday to Friday."
"What about weekends?"
"During week three, we'll add a sixth day to the schedule. What day do you prefer?"
"Probably Sunday. We're all a wreck here on Saturdays."
"No problem. You'll be in great shape by the end of three weeks, so for weeks four to six, we'll focus on explosive power and your position-specific football exercises. We can review this some more next week. It's all about getting the muscles ready, alternating the hydrotherapy with … " Her cheeks turned red, then she added, "massage therapy, then stretching, then strengthening."
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at her. This massage therapy component seemed to get her all antsy. Now I knew why she was blushing. I couldn't wait to see how she would act when her tiny hands were brushing against my balls to get in nice and high as she massaged my upper thighs.
"Tell me more about this massage therapy … or maybe you should show me … you know, give me an early demonstration."
Samantha shot me a look. How could I not provoke her? She made this way too easy, reacting the way she did. It was all over her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.
"You're not ready for it yet."
"Why the hell not?"
"For starters, you were still in pain just to get from the bed to the table. You need a couple more days. We'll start next week."
I relaxed and rested my head back on the table. "Awww, come on."
"It's going to take as long as it's going to take. Do I need to remind you about not pushing too hard every time I see you?"
"All I care about is getting back in top form by the combine."
"I'll do everything I can to get you there, and so will Dr. Burton, Jeff and Ryan. I need you to follow the plan." She had determination in her voice.
"Good to hear you're committed to my recovery."
"It's my job, Evan. I always do my job." She checked her watch. "This ice can come off now, and we can pull the sleeve back over your thigh. I'll go get these back in the freezer."
"Pass me the remote over there on my bed, will you?" Samantha looked at me with contempt. "Please?" I added.
"Sure." She snatched it off the bed and passed it to me before hurrying off in the direction of the kitchen.
I turned on the TV, but was not looking over at it. I had never known real frustration in my life until now. Before this injury, I had always been an instant gratification type of person. I didn't like waiting. Two days felt like two years if it meant I had to wait. And now, getting back in shape meant learning to take it slow and let my body heal before I did more damage instead of make things better. Samantha wasn't trying to give me a hard time. Dr. Burton, Jeff, and even the coaches would say the same thing.
It didn't stop me from hating it all. Sitting around sucked. Falling behind was suffering enough. Knowing the rest of my teammates would be working out without me while I stretched out here on a table with an ice pack on my groin-that drove me nuts.
Samantha walked into the room at just that moment. "Let's get the compression wrap back on." She stopped halfway and pivoted around to look at the TV screen. Her face went beet red. "Seriously?"
"What?"
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" She asked, pointing at the TV without looking at it.
"Since when is watching porn a big deal?"
"If I want to watch hard core stuff like that, I'll do it on my own time. Maybe you can do the same while I'm here."
"You watch porn? I'd never have guessed."
She recoiled a little, and began packing up the equipment she'd brought with her. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"I thought we'd already established that the last time you were here."
Her eyes narrowed as she stepped over to the side of the PT table. I was getting the compression sleeve back in position.
"You may not like the situation you're in, but that doesn't give you the right to subject me to that … " she pointed at the screen again, unable to find the words. "That … "
"Porn? Relax. At least I muted the sound."
"How thoughtful of you," she spat.
"I won't hold it against you that you hate football, and you try not to hold this hardcore stuff against me … when do we get back on the field?"
"Week three."
"That's ages away."
"Christ … Look, you need time to rest and work your way back from injury. I've seen what can happen when athletes ignore what we tell them to do."
"Oh?" I worked the athletic shorts up my legs without her help. Icing the area made it much easier now than getting them down my leg. "What happened?"
Her eyebrows knitted together as though reliving a difficult memory while she gathered up her things and placed them in the plastic container. "Nothing you need to know about. I just don't want to see you or any athlete hurt their own chances."
"Well, thanks. I sure am touched to know you care that much about my chances."
She helped me off the table, and her demeanor changed. All the tension between us bubbled over and turned into something different when my hand brushed against her upper arm as it hung over her shoulder. Limping across the tiny space with her assistance was harmless enough, but all manner of wicked thoughts crowded my mind, so much so that I didn't notice I was sliding my fingers along her smooth skin, just below the sleeve of her top. Or maybe I noticed and was liking it too much to stop. Her head rotated to look up at me just then. "Quit that."