He breathed out heavily and pulled back his arm gently from my grip, refusing my request without words. “When you said you were a PA…let me guess…” his voice was coarse.
“Sports medicine.”
He nodded and rolled his shoulders as if brushing off my touch.
Ouch.
“The worst kind of medicine.”
“Another ouch,” I whispered
His green eyes turned back to me. “What was the first?”
I blinked. “Nothing. I should go. I need to get Jax and chat with one of the coaches over there. Thank you. By the way. I really appreciated today.”
I shook my head before walking away.Next time, keep your hands to yourself, Ray.
“Nice try,” I mumbled to myself on the way out. “But moving my arm in circular motions isn’t going to fix anything.”
The warm contact of her fingers on my arm left an invisible impression. The arm suddenly throbbing, like it wanted her hands on it again.
If she couldn’t guess I had some serious issues before, she did now. Maybe I would head back to the store after all. This woman had my head spinning in all different directions and I didn’t have time for this shit.
There it was. The real me. A snide comment toward any and all who bothered with me. Everyone knew it was coming.
With the image of her hands dropping and cheeks turning red still vivid in my mind, I jumped into my truck.
Feeling hard inside. Emptiness filled with remorse and anger. It was building again.
I knew this was a bad idea.
I reached for my keys and remembered they were in my jacket pocket. Which were still hanging over Rayne’s shoulders.
If it weren’t for the keys, I’d forget the sweater.
Terrific.
I spotted her over by the hockey coaches wing. Jax wasn’t with her. He was nearby but back on the ice. This time with a college-aged kid passing around a hockey puck with him.
What the hell?
I bet I knew what they were doing. And it was going to cost her big time. And her kid wouldn’t have much of a better experience than he did with baseball.
I fought the urge to throw my skates back on and pull Jax away from the amateur fraud.
No. I had to ignore whatever this instinct was. These two were not my problem.
Rayne’s little medic stunt was all the reminder I needed to know that I didn’t belong here.
But I did still need my keys.
I slipped my baseball cap back on, lowering it before approaching Rayne and the Coach.
“He’ll need about ten to fifteen sessions at a minimum before we could get him in for tryouts…” I heard the Coach selling her.
“How much are the sessions?” I heard her ask. But my focus was on Jax and his posture—he was uncomfortable. The older kid was pushing him. Like he wanted him to be bad at this. I knew Jax was better. He was starting to lose balance.
“Here’s the package. We start with a minimum of ten for youth hockey,” he nodded at Jax. “But,” he nodded at the teen teacher with Jax, who caught his glare, “he’s looking at double that.”
