Page 80 of Hat Trick
Amazing what some rest can do.
Me
Rest. Yeah.
* * *
A week later,and I’m still thinking about the filthy things Riley and I did.
I’m thinking about his mouth and his hands, and when I wonder about how many people he must have been with before me if he’sthat goodat knowing exactly what to do, a flicker of jealousy creeps up my spine.
I’d probably burst into flames if I stepped inside a church, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when I’m seeing him for the first time today since he got me off and stole my underwear.
We’ve sent a few text messages back and forth, but it hasn’t been anything substantial. Neither one of us have brought upthat night, and something like nerves have been sitting in my stomach since I woke up this morning.
I almost canceled our session, but I don’t want him to think I’m hiding from him.
Or worse.
Developing feelings for him and wanting to do it again.
I snort and toss the towels some of the guys used after an earlier ice bath into the hamper. The door to the training room clicks open behind me, and my heart jumps to my throat. I slow my breathing and turn around with a grin, only to be disappointed when I find Coach in the doorway.
“Oh. Hey,” I say, and the scowl he’s wearing deepens.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Nope. I thought you were someone else.”
“I’m adding you to the list of people disappointed to see me.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about. You’re at the top of the list of my favorites.”
“Sarcasm isn’t a good look on you, Armstrong,” Coach draws out.
“What’s up? You never come in here,” I say.
“Because I hate when people come into my workspace without an invitation. I like to extend that same courtesy to other people when I can.”
“Wow. You’re such a Good Samaritan.”
“Doing my civic duty. Is Mitchell here yet?”
“Nope. Should be any minute.” I grab a spray bottle and wipe down the treatment table Liam was on thirty minutes ago while I tended to his sore ankle. “Why?”
“Just wanted to check in and see how things were going.”
“Stick around. I think you’ll be impressed when you see his progress. I know I’m not an occupational therapist, but I hope I’ve done a good job.”
“She’s done a great job,” Riley says, stepping into the room. “Don’t let her sell herself short.”
“Hi. Hey. What’s up?” I ask.
Our eyes meet, and the air is tense. There’s a pause, a throat clearing, my gaze bouncing to the front of his shorts and knowing what’s hiding underneath. A cocky smirk he tosses my way before he adjusts his glasses and strolls over to the table, and I hope Coach can’t pick up on the awkwardness between us.
“Your gait looks great, Mitchell.” Coach unfolds his arms from across his chest. “And I’m glad to hear Lexi hasn’t had to make any excuses for you lately. Not a single absence listed in her progress reports since October.”
“I’m a good student,” Riley says, and I swear I hear the undertones behind his statement.
