One More Shot (Hometown Players #1) (12 page)

I see her smiling when I glance down. “I can still give you one, but now you have to pay for it. I’m a professional and everything.”

I laugh.

Jessie finishes applying the cream and hands me the jar. “Put this on after every shower and before bed. By the time your team gets back, it should look much better, and maybe they won’t be so nervous about playing you.”

She stands up. “I have to head back to Sea-Tac. I have another patient in half an hour. After your shower I want you to go to the training room and do the stretches I gave you. Nothing else. No cardio. Just the stretches. Okay?”

I nod and watch her go, then start pulling off the rest of my clothes. I’m in nothing but my boxer briefs when Jessie comes charging back in. She sees me standing there half naked and covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry! Oh my God! Sorry!” She turns to face the door. “I forgot my bag!”

I grab her knapsack and walk up to her, putting my hand on her shoulder to turn her around. She’s still got her face buried in her hands. This makes me laugh.

“Jessie, I’ve been interviewed wearing less,” I assure her, and then pause, biting my lower lip for a second, trying not to let my smile grow. “And Lord knows you’ve seen me in less.”

Her fingers part and I see her pretty green eyes peeking through. Her hands slowly drop and she reaches for the knapsack. She’s less than half a foot away and I feel this need to reach out and pull her closer, pull her body against mine and press my lips to hers…

My phone buzzes from the bench behind me, making us both jump a little.

Before I can react or realize what the hell she’s doing, she charges around me and grabs the phone off the bench. She smiles at the call display and punches a button.

“Hi, Devin! It’s Jessie. How are you?”

I groan and roll my eyes, collapsing in defeat onto the bench.

“Well, it’s a funny story. I’m treating him. Yeah. I know. Right? How’s the baby? Ashleigh? That’s great. Yeah, he’s right here, but he’s acting like a giant infant. I know. Some things never change. Okay. Sure. Yeah. Hold on.”

She covers the phone with her palm and knocks my shoulder. I look up at her.

“Talk to your brother.”

“Nope.” I sigh loudly but take the phone from her hand.

She smiles triumphantly and grabs her knapsack. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hey,” I mutter into the phone as I watch that perfect ass disappear out the door again.

“She’s your physical therapist now?” Devin asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Are you getting rubdowns from her?”

“Did you know she was in Seattle and not tell me?” I change the subject, my tone the polar opposite of his.

The laughter gone from his voice, Devin says, “I just found out like a month ago, I swear. And Luc said she didn’t want you to know.”

“But
I
wanted to know!”

“Really, Jordy?” Devin says. To my surprise, there is surprise in his voice.

“What does that mean?” I demand.

“You haven’t exactly been…lonely,” he reminds me in his calm, factual way. “And you haven’t mentioned her. You knew she was in Arizona. Did you ever try to contact her?”

“Yeah. Once.”

“Once? So what about all the other women?” Once it’s clear that I’m not going to answer him, Devin continues speaking. “Okay, whatever. It seems like you guys found each other again, despite everything. That’s what’s important.”

“It’s not that simple,” I admit gruffly.

“It never is,” he replies, then sighs audibly. “Listen, bro, don’t get bitchy with us, okay? We are on your side. I promise.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I hang up. So that’s why my family hadn’t bothered to tell me Jessie and I were living in the same city? Because I slept around? Is that what her problem is too? Was I supposed to be a fucking monk after she rejected me? Is this worth it? All this bullshit…is she worth it? I take a deep calming breath. Yeah. She is.

I
hang up my office phone just as my text message notification dings on my cell.

“Okay, so who
hasn’t
called you today?” Tori asks with a smile.

“My family is having a meltdown,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I apologize.”

What I don’t tell her is that not only have Callie and Rose called and texted me, but Devin, Luc and Donna have as well. All this because I answered Jordan’s phone the other day.

“I hope everything is okay.”

“Yeah. Everything is peachy. My family’s just crazy.”

Tori glances at her watch and groans. “T-minus ten minutes until the manwhore.”

I smile tightly and nod. Tori pulls out her purse and starts digging for the makeup bag she now carries constantly and applies at work. I don’t know why she does it, but I still don’t wear makeup at work so it kind of makes me feel like the ugly stepsister.

“So, I went to the Warren,” she blurts out as she finishes applying lip gloss.

“The what?”

“Warren. It’s a message board where puck bunnies send stories and pictures of hookups with NHL players,” Tori clarifies, and stands up, holding her makeup bag and a brush.

“Because bunnies live in warrens. Clever,” I remark wryly.

“Oh, puck sluts are nothing if not clever…and gossipy, hence the site.” She pauses. “Did you know there are more stories posted about Jordan than any other player in the league?”

“No, I didn’t know.” I feel kind of nauseous about this information. “I’ve never been to the website.”

“You have to be a member to see anything. And they don’t let just everyone sign up,” she says, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet up on her desk.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “But they let you sign up, I take it?”

She nods sheepishly and then smiles. “What can I say? I was curious. And they post information about what bars players like to hang out in and what hotels teams use on road trips. When I signed up it was because I wanted to meet a player…or two…or ten.”

I give her a rueful head shake, but I’m smiling despite myself. Tori’s expression changes and the sheepishness is replaced by something gloomier. “But then I met one and realized the puck bunny wasn’t for me.”

“Who’d you meet?” I can’t help but ask.

“Does it matter? They’re all shades of the same, I’m willing to bet,” she counters, and drops her feet back onto the floor with a thump. “Jordan Garrison may be dirtiest birdie in the nest, but no one’s feathers are clean, if you know what I mean. Luckily he won’t be our patient forever.”

That was true. Jordan was progressing nicely. His conditioning was getting better and the ankle was definitely structurally sound. It was just the incision from surgery that needed to heal up, and the cream I gave him should have that looking better in a week or two. The idea of not seeing him three times a week kind of makes me sad, as much as I hate to admit it.

“He should be here any minute so if you’ll excuse me.” Tori stands up to leave but stops at my desk as she passes, picks up a pen and scribbles something on a Post-it. She sticks to my computer screen. “Username and password for my Warren account. Because I know you’re curious.”

“No. I don’t want to know any more gory details than I already see in the regular media,” I state emphatically and shake my head so vigorously the end of my ponytail whacks me in the face. “I have to work with him thanks to you.”

“Oh, come on…you know you want to check it out.” She winks at me and walks out of the office.

My cell phone rings again. I glance at the name and number on the display and roll my eyes.

“Oh my God, not you too!” I bellow into the phone.

“Sorry, Jessie. I’m being forced to call. They all seem to think you’ll be honest with me.”

“Oh, for God sakes, Cole. I’m being honest with them. NOTHING is happening.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m assisting with his therapy because I have to. That’s it. I swear.”

“Fine. I’ll report back and tell them all to fuck off,” Cole vows solemnly.

I laugh. “Don’t tell your mom that. Just everyone else.”

“Good point.” Cole clears his throat and then I hear Leah talking in the background. “Leah wants to know if you’re at least getting along.”

“Some of the time,” I admit quietly, and spin a pen between the fingers on my free hand. “When we avoid talking about our past, yes.”

He repeats my answer to his girlfriend and I hear more talking. “Leah wants to know if you’ll ever actually get past the past.”

“Tell Leah that I have no idea. Maybe one day we can be friends, but right now that seems iffy.”

He repeats the message and there is more whispering. I glance up and see Jordan standing there in the doorway staring at me. I sit up straighter and pull my feet off my desk, wondering how long he’s been there.

“I can’t believe you…no, I won’t tell her,” Cole says to Leah, and then sighs dramatically. “Fine. Leah says to tell you that the reason you can’t be friends with him is because you’re meant to be more than friends with him.”

I stare at Jordan in front of me as Leah’s words flow through Cole’s voice.

“Please tell your girlfriend that I love her, but she’s crazy.”

“I tell her that every day. Nice to know someone agrees with me.”

“I have to go, Cole,” I say, and Jordan’s eyebrows fly up. “I have a patient.”

I hang up.

Jordan keeps staring at me, leaning casually against the doorframe, his six-two frame clad in a puffy black down winter ski vest, which is open, and a clingy light blue waffle shirt that makes his pretty eyes pop and also shows off the definition in his chest and arms.

“Cole? My brother Cole?”

“Yes,” I reply quietly in case Tori is in earshot. “Apparently, answering your phone set off a shit storm.”

“Oh, I know,” Jordan replies, and rolls his eyes. “My mother called. And Luc. And even Callie.”

“Callie called you?”

“Well, apparently when she called you, you hung up on her,” Jordan explains, and gives me a smirk so sexy my stomach does a little dip. “So, since you wouldn’t listen to her tell you what a scumbag I was, she decided to tell me what a scumbag I was.”

“I didn’t even know she had your phone number.” I’m honestly shocked.

Jordan stares at me incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?” he says, suddenly serious.

I glance up at him, confused to see shock in his face tinged with what looks to be anger.

“Callie has had my phone number for years,” Jordan tells me frankly. “I gave it to her that first summer you were in Arizona.”

“What?” Now it’s my turn to be shocked. “Why would you give her your number?!”

“Why do you think?” he counters imploringly.

I had asked Callie about Jordan every time I talked to her the first year I was in college and Callie and Rose were still in Silver Bay. Every freaking call I asked if he’d come home to visit. If they had seen him. If he had asked about me. Callie always said she hadn’t seen him. Once, the summer after I left—the one Jordan is talking about—she said she had seen him at a local pub. He’d been with Hannah and never mentioned me at all. That’s when I stopped asking.

Jordan opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my hand. “Enough chitchat. Let’s get to work.”

I lead him down the hall to the training room. As he saunters along behind me, I get this weird feeling and glance over my shoulder and catch him checking out my ass. I frown. “Eyes up, Forty-four.”

He falls in step beside me, a cocky grin making his dimple appear, and he shrugs. “Can’t help it. You still have the best ass I’ve ever seen.”

I stop abruptly as we enter the training room and level him with a hard stare, even though I feel a ripple of excitement and my cheeks flush from the compliment. “This is a professional relationship. Act professionally.”

He rolls his eyes and the cocky smirk disappears. I run Jordan through the usual stretches, exercises and weights. He’s quiet throughout but he’s blowing through them with no trouble. When he’s working on the lifts on one foot, I grab a ball from the rack and toss it at him. He looks shocked but catches it with only a wobble, which is good.

“Toss it back while staying on one foot,” I command, but he doesn’t toss it back. He just stands there smirking.

“You want it, then you have to answer a question.”

“What part of professional relationship is confusing you?” I ask, and put my hands on my hips. “Throwing the ball is part of your therapy. It’s balance training.”

“I’ll throw it. Just answer my question,” he explains, and I glare at him. “Have you thought of me at all in the last six years?”

Wow. I stare at him as my brain and my heart bicker about what to answer. My heart says tell him the truth—that I thought about him every day. My brain says lie. Tell him he never crossed my mind. I bite my lip. He holds up the ball and wobbles slightly on his bad ankle.

“Yes,” I confess. My heart won the battle, but as soon as I see the victorious smile that starts to crawl up his face, my brain adds, “Hard to forget you when every sports writer and gossip site likes to snicker about how you can’t keep your dick in your uniform.”

“What?” His blue eyes cloud over and the smile falls from his face.

“Ball.” He tosses it back to me gently. “Everyone in my sports therapy program knew I was from Silver Bay. They all wanted to know about the superstar hockey players from my hometown. Especially the one who can manage to score fifty goals a season and still drink tequila out of slutty girls’ belly buttons at bars every night.”

He looks hurt by that comment. Good. It used to hurt me to hear about it. And then I remember Tori’s comment about how Jordan has more stories about him on the gossip site than any other player in the NHL, and I realize it still hurts me.

He forgets his exercise and puts both feet on the ground. “We need to talk about things, like Callie having my number. A friendship between us might not be as iffy as you told Cole it would be.”

I decide not to respond to that. Instead, I drop the ball back on the rack. “Treatment room,” I bark, and march down the hall.

He hops up on the table as I grab the heating pad and look at the surgery incision. It looks much better than a week ago. I flex my fingers, which are tingling in anticipation before I even touch his skin. I would never admit it to anyone, I hate even admitting it to myself, but I love this part. Touching Jordan. He’s lying back on the table, his left arm behind his head like a pillow and his eyes closed. When I grip his ankle and begin to massage it, he lets out a deep, heavy, completely sexy sigh that sends a shiver of desire through me. I’m so weak.

I force myself to be the professional I asked him to be earlier. I stare at his foot and mentally make notes. No swelling. Minimal redness. Minimal stiffness. Slight…

“Jessie.” I look up at him. He sits up and leans toward me, his face so close his breath dances across my cheek. “I gave my number to Callie to give to you because I’d been away from Silver Bay for almost a year, and I realized when I came back the thing I missed most about it was hearing your voice.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door and as I jump back so quickly I almost fall over. Tori marches into the room with a tight smile plastered on my lips. She glances down at his ankle and holds up his file that she’s carrying. “Things look great. I have a feeling your team doctor will clear you for play anytime now.”

“Seriously?” He looks relieved. “That would be amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” Tori mutters, like the news means nothing. “I’ve emailed your trainers to update them on your progress.”

“I’d really like to thank you for everything.” Jordan smiles at her and I almost laugh. He’s trying so hard to win her over because God forbid someone not be a member of the Jordan Garrison fan club. “How about I get you tickets to the next game?”

Tori’s scowl quivers. She was just complaining last week how she hasn’t been to a Winterhawks game all season because she’s trying to save money and the tickets are just too expensive. “You don’t have to do that.”

I know it kills her to say that.

“I insist.” Jordan grins that cute little grin he’s been pulling since he was eight. The one that makes him look innocent and adorable but yet completely devious all at once. My heart is starting to melt, but this has to be out of habit. I don’t actually feel anything for him again. Still. I’d have to be crazy to still have romantic feelings for him. “I’ll get you ice-level seats, right behind the bench. I don’t wanna brag, but I’ve got connections. How many do you need?”

Ice level behind the bench is an incredible offer but Tori doesn’t crack. “Give them to Jessie. She’s done all the work and besides, NBC is broadcasting it, her ex-boyfriend Chance Echolls will be there. By the way, he’s totally hot. I Googled him.”

Oh, fuck.

Tori smiles at me. “Maybe he’ll bring you up to the press box. I hear they have amazing food up there.”

I turn my attention to Jordan, who has completely lost that pretty little smile of his. “I don’t need tickets, but thank you anyway.”

“Yeah.” He jumps off the table. “I’m going to head out.”

“We’ve got heat therapy to do still,” I blurt out.

“Sorry, I have an appointment I forgot about,” he mumbles, clearly lying—at least it’s clear to me. “I have to get going. But I promise to put a heating pad on it tonight after I stretch it.”

He disappears out the door, pulling on his vest as he goes. I fight the urge to run after him. I know he’s upset I’m friends with Chance, but I’m not ready to explain to him how much easier it was to be friends with Chance and even talk about that failed romance because it didn’t hurt anymore. I didn’t want to tell Jordan how much it still hurt to think about us. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was some weird survival instinct. I had promised myself when I was in Arizona trying to get over him, feeling like I would literally die from losing him, that I would never let him know how much he hurt me. And I would never, ever let him do it again.

Later that day on my lunch break, I head outside and dial my sister’s number on my cell.

“Callie Caplan.”

“You’ve had Jordan’s phone number for five years and never gave it me?”