Page 3 of Off Limits: The Firsts

What I’d give to knock that smug smirk off his face right now.

“So, what? You just walk up and throw some stats at her? ‘Hey, baby, I’m having a killer season, batting three seventy-five with a twenty-game hitting streak. Wanna go out?’”

“Nah.” He fights back a laugh, and I hate that even though I know I’m being mocked, that sheepish smile of his draws me in to take a step closer. “I just tell her I have a big stick and I know just how to use it.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugs. “No, but you’re going to think what you want to anyway, right?”

“Sure am.”

“And you have a thing against big sticks, I take it?”

He’s taunting me. Seeing how far he can push me. Little does he know, I push right back.

“Nothing against big sticks, but they’re worthless unless you know how to use them. And guys who drop cheesy lines like the one you just did definitely don’t take the time to learn how to use them properly.”

“Are you speaking from experience? Do a lot of men try lines like that on you?” Our eyes war across the small space.

“Not men I’d give the time of day.”

“That’s a pity. Maybe you haven’t met the right one, then.” He just stares at me with an unrelenting gaze that asks questions and makes assumptions I’d rather he not make. This conversation has veered way off course from where it needs to be.

Back to him.

Focused on him.

And the irony isn’t lost on me that this is the exact opposite of what I wanted moments ago.

“Look, I’m here to do a job. It’s probably best if we stick to that,” I say in an attempt to reset this conversation for the second time.

“You sure you want to? Your hostility screams how much you’re enjoying my company.”

“Liking you is not a necessity. I’m good at ignoring people who rub me the wrong way.” I follow the dig with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Let’s get to it.” I motion to the padded table behind him.

He looks at the table and then back to me. “What if I tell you thanks, but no thanks.”

“And what if I tell you, you don’t get a say? I’m getting paid to do a job, and I intend to get that job done.” I take a few steps closer to him and make sure my voice is as authoritative as possible. “On your back.”

“Gotta love a woman who knows what she wants.” There’s no mistaking the suggestion in his words, and it’s only reinforced by the intensity of the way he stares at me, as if with each passing second, another layer of my clothing is falling off. “But you’ll learn soon enough, I rarely do what I’m told.”

“Pretty please.” Sarcasm rings through my voice as we wage a visual war of wills, but I’m unsure over what. I’m here to give him exactly what he wants—to be back on the field—and so his defiance is both frustrating and confusing.

Because while I may have been questioned by players in the past—underestimated because I’m a woman, tested because I’m not as experienced as Doc—it’s so very different this time around.

This time I have Doc Dalton’s benchmark career riding on rehabbing Easton Wylder. I have my father’s last wishes to fulfill. I have my reputation to solidify.

“Feisty, gorgeous, intelligent, and polite,” he muses, crossing his arms over his chest so his biceps flex with the movement. Eyebrows lifted, he gives me a full-blown smile to boot. “Because of that, I’ll obey . . . but just this once.”

Quit staring at me. “Let’s get to it.” Quit smiling at me like that. “On the table.” Quit flexing your biceps. “Shirt off.” Quit unnerving me.

“My shirt’s already off.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Crap. Nothing like showing you’re capable and in control by completely missing the obvious. “Do you want to tell me where it hurts the most, so I can start there?”

“I’ve got a lot of hurts.” He laughs, and it irritates me that I find the sound of it sexy. “But I’m curious, how do you plan on fixing me if touching the clientele is off-limits?”

“I touch, Wylder. There are no limitations. I throw my hands and my body into it until I’ve made the pain go away. Then we move on to your next ache and start the process all over again.” Ignoring the disbelief on his face, I point to the table behind him. “I thought you were going to obey this once?”