Page 97 of The Offside Rule
“Yup. Dax’s ankle is still attached.”
“That’s the standard we aim for,” Wren said, grinning.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and tried to focus. For the next hour, I took notes, wrapped a wrist, fetched ice, and tried not to think about Hunter’s mouth. It didn’t work.
Hunter: I keep thinking about the shower.
Me: Hunter.
Hunter: How you watched me.
Me: Stop.
Hunter: How you touched yourself because I told you to.
My face went nuclear. I looked up. He was across the treatment room now, shirt back on, speaking to a nervous rookie who had forgotten what line he’d been on after taking a hit. He was back to being the calm, controlled captain, which was completely unfair.
Me: I hate you.
Hunter: No, you don’t.
Me: I’m going to throw my phone into an ice bath.
Hunter: Do it. Then come find me and tell me how mad you are.
I pressed my thighs together and cursed every bad decision that had led me here. At lunch, Wren handed me a stack of damptowels. “Can you toss these in the linen room? I need to stop Dax from diagnosing himself on the internet.”
“On it.”
The linen room was narrow, tucked behind the treatment area, packed with shelves, towels, gowns, and ice bags. I stepped inside, dumped the towels into the bin, and my phone buzzed again.
Hunter: I want five minutes with you in that closet.
My heart slammed.
Me: You’re certifiable.
Hunter: I’d lock the door if it had one.
Me: Yup, you’re insane.
Hunter: You make me insane.
Me: I’m leaving.
Hunter: Are you?
I should’ve walked out. Instead, I stared at the screen, breathing too fast. The door shifted behind me. I spun around and nearly screamed, but Hunter’s hand covered my mouth before I made a sound. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against him.
“Don’t scream,” he whispered against my ear.
I bit his palm.
He hissed and dropped his hand. “Did you just bite me?”
“You scared me.”
“Sorry, but I figured you were staying in here because you wanted me.” The corner of his mouth lifted.
