Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Hey, Xander,” she says in greeting. “How’s it going?”
“Better now that I’m home for a while. I hope you have time in your schedule to bring me on as a full-time client for the next, oh, year or so.”
I can hear the stunned silence on the other end of the line.
“For the next year?”
“Okay, probably closer to nine months. I’m home with an injury. No playing for me until I’m healed up.”
“Well, that sucks. Do you want the usual? Mostly dinners and snacks, high protein, low carb, no sugar?”
“Yep, that’s awesome.” And by awesome, I mean boring. But it fucking works like a charm.
“I can do that. I’ll do some shopping today and have some meals in your fridge by tomorrow afternoon.”
“You’re a fucking goddess, Cass.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. See you later.”
I can hear her laughing as she hangs up, and it makes me grin.
The doorbell rings and I check the time. They’re five minutes early, which I appreciate, and I walk easily to the door.
Today’s a good day on the knee. There’s no pain and I’m walking normally.
I open the door and feel surprise move through me and then awareness.
“Ivy.”
The petite woman with the curves for days, long red hair, and freckles that just beg for my thumb to brush over them smiles up at me.
“Hey, Xander,” she says.
I’ve felt like an asshole for the past several months. I was home between games and out with my family, playing pool at Lucky’s, and I didn’t recognize Ivy, even though everyone told me that I went to school with her.
I still don’t remember that. Apparently, I’ve known this gorgeous creature my entire life, but I have no recollection at all.
And it fucking pisses me off.
But I could see the hurt in her pretty eyes when I addressed her by the wrong name, and I felt like a complete douchebag. She accepted my apology, but I still feel like shit.
Goddamn memory.
“Come on in,” I tell her, moving back so she can step inside. “Please tell me you’re my physical therapist.”
“I’m your physical therapist,” she confirms and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are on me as I walk across the room, but not in a flirty way. No, this woman is analyzing me. “No limp that I can see.”
“Not today,” I confirm. “But when I’m tired, there’s a small one.”
“Hmm.” She nods thoughtfully and bites her lower lip.
I admit, I was attracted to her at the bar. Here in my living room with her green scrubs? She’s hot.
She’s also off limits because I can’t fuck her and then go on with my life, and I don’t do anything permanent.
Too bad.
“Can we sit somewhere and chat before we start the workout?” she asks, pulling me out of my inappropriate thoughts, and I gesture toward the kitchen.
“Come this way. Do you want something to drink?”
“I have water.” She holds up her refillable water bottle. “But thanks. Are you getting enough water?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Is my water intake part of physical therapy?”
“Hell yeah, it is. I need you hydrated, Xander. I need you well fed and healthy because I’m going to be putting you through your paces.”
“You look smug about that.”
Ivy grins and my heart rolls over.
What the fuck, heart?
“Oh, I’m smug. I’m excited for this job. I want to help you.”
“Why?”
She blinks at that and boosts herself up into the stool. She’s short, but she’s strong. I can see biceps flex as she shifts on the seat. She’d have to be strong to move people around the way she does.
“Why do I want to help you?”
“Yeah.”
I lean back against the countertop and cross my arms over my chest, and her eyes immediately drift to my shoulders.
“Because working with elite athletes is exactly what I went to school for. This part of PT is what gets me excited. At one time, I thought I’d work with a professional team.”
She frowns and clears her throat, as if she didn’t mean to tell me that much.
“Why aren’t you, then?”
She shakes her head, schools her face, and ignores the question.
“I’m excited to work with you because this is what I’m trained to do. I’ve looked over your medical records from the incident, but I want to hear from your own mouth how you’re feeling. Does the knee feel unstable?”
“Not as much as it did,” I admit. “I don’t wear the brace when I sleep anymore. Range of motion is coming along.”
“We’ll test that today,” she says, nodding. This professional side of Ivy is . . . sexy. If she pulls out glasses to read something later, I’ll be a goner. “I’ll evaluate you and decide what exercises are best for you at this stage of healing. The fact that you are an elite athlete is on your side. You tend to recover more quickly from these things, but it’s still a lengthy process.”