Page 3 of Jason

After saying goodbye, I tossed the phone to my right onto the TV stand and limped my way over to the coffee table to start the cleaning process. I hated this plastic thing I had to constantly wear, the showers were a bitch. Granted, it didn’t itch like it would if I had a cast and it did serve its purpose, not to mention, reduced the need to depend on crutches. Thankfully, after four weeks of wearing the damned thing, it was finally time to take it off. I couldn’t fucking wait.

“Had a good time last night?” I asked the ass who just stood there and didn’t move a muscle to help me.

I didn’t look up from picking up the garbage that was all over the place. I was scared I would lose my fucking mind if I saw the smirk on Curts face one more time. How the fuck had they managed to make such a mess?

When Dylan, Matthew, Logan, and Jimmy showed up at my door, each holding a six-pack, I knew I was in for a long haul last night. When Curt came with girls trailing into my living room, I’d had enough. I told them it was time to wrap things up and go find some other place to continue with the party. I was tired, and in pain. As I closed the door of my bedroom, I was aware they’d ignored me, but I wasn’t willing to do anything about it. I just had one thing on my mind, to lie down, because the shot of cortisone was wearing off, and my ankle was throbbing. They all frequently made fun of me for living in a house and not in some mansion, but they sure liked to spend time here and bring their latest hook-ups. It was a tactic that worked well for them since none of the girls found out where they lived, and they had no way of finding out. It was the reason I had a lock on my bedroom door. It was also the reason I, at least twice a week, had to call the cops to escort women away who were camping outside, waiting for the moment my teammates would show up.

This shit had to stop.

I was getting tired of the boys hanging at my house almost every night. After living in Denver for almost a year, I knew it was high time to go out and meet some new people. The only problem with that, all I did was play football or go to practice. And every now and then, the guys were fun to hang with. I loved my place, usually. It wasn’t too big and I could take care of it myself. I also knew what NFL stood for...Not For Long...so I had my money safely tucked away in a savings account for when the moment came I needed to retire, I would be able to do it comfortably and not freak out without a plan. I would have the luxury of taking my time of figuring out what I wanted to do with my life without the fear of not having an income hanging over my head, and the main reason why I still put up with Curt, the man was one of the best in his business. I was aware that he was the one who got me the deal with Thunders, not only my ability on the field.

“Yep,” Curt said, popping the P. “You should have stayed with us and not gone to bed like a ten-year-old when the clock struck ten-thirty.”

“You know my schedule. You also know there’s nothing more important to me than to get back in the game. You further know I don’t want any partying in my home,” I once again reminded Curt.

My jaw was clenched so tight, my teeth hurt. It was alarming how frequently Curt asked me to go out to the clubs and find some easy girls for the night. One would think, being my manager and all, he would be first in line to get me to live a life of sacrifice required of a professional athlete.

“Oh, relax, Jason.” He waved me off like it was no big deal. “We just had a few beers and a good time. It wasn’t as if we trashed the place.”

It wasn’t like they trashed the place?

I kept my mouth shut; I only looked around then back to my manager and cocked a brow at him. At least the man had the decency to swallow hard and turn around to help throw out the trash from the mess they made last night. I was just hauling the last of the trash bags away when there was a knock at the door.

I could hear Curt open the door, then chuckle as he said in a patronizing tone, “Sorry, sweetheart, whoever you’re looking for, he’s not here.”

Before he could close the door on the poor girl looking to find her athlete and promptly start planning the wedding, a throaty voice said, “Ummm… I’m looking for Jason Harris. The hospital gave me this address. I’m Rory Ryan, his physical therapist.”

Standing in the kitchen, I could see the stunned look on Curt’s face and a small hand reaching in, trying to shake the asshole’s hand. Limping as fast as I could, I hurried to get to the door. I fully planned on slapping Curt on the back of his head to get him to stop gawking at whoever was standing in front of him and let my therapist in. My plan came to a halt when the sight that had Curt transfixed met my eyes. There, in the bright Denver sun, stood a tiny woman with honey-blonde hair that barely reached her shoulders. A pouty mouth that had the most perfect Cupid’s bow I have ever seen, and big hazel eyes that kept shifting nervously between the two of us. Pulling back her arm, she shook her head and licked those perfect lips. I was dying to know if nectar would leak out if I bit them.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. I probably have the wrong address.”

Those words and her soft tone made something in my gut jolt as I reached out, grabbed her wrist and gave it my all to ignore the electrifying current that shot through my palm right to my dick. I would be surprised if she didn’t catch the fact that I was intrigued by her. If I wasn’t so angry, I would have realized she obviously didn’t have the same reaction to me. Instead, she tried to dismiss me, not to mention dared to try and take away the most alluring sight I have ever seen, that being herself.

“No, no,” her startled yes came to mine. “You’re at the right place. I’m Jason Harris.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason Harris. I’m the one who’s going to torment you for the next six weeks.”

Watching her mouth move as she said those words, I had no doubt what she said was absolutely true. I knew the smile she fixed on her beautiful face, the same one that made her eyes twinkle, was going to haunt my dreams.

Chapter Two

Rory

“Please,” Jason gestured for me to take a seat at his couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

I could really go for some coffee, since the effect of the last one I had was starting to wear off, and thanks to my asshole brothers who kept me awake for most of the night, I really needed another. Still, I shook my head a little, declining. It was better for everyone if I got some on the way home, because if it wasn't done just the way I liked it, it wouldn't be pretty. For some reason, people tended to look at me funny, slowly backing away when I voiced that the coffee wasn’t done correctly. If they offered me some, they should be able to follow the instructions. It isn’t my fault that most of the population are certified idiots.

“No, thank you,” I muttered, looking around the place.

It wasn’t what I expected Jason house to be. Stepping inside, I was able to see everything as it was one huge, open space. On the left, there was a coat closet, and next to the door was a bench where you could sit and take off your shoes. When you turned right, the first thing you could see was a fire place that had grey tiles with black-ish veins in them, going all the way up to the ceiling. In front of the fire place was a couch that could easily seat four people, and in front of the couch was a glass coffee table with chrome legs. On the mantle of the fire place were some picture frames, but I didn’t have a chance to look closely and see what pictures were important enough for Jason to have on display.

As I continued into his house, I could see another couch and two chairs arranged in front of a huge TV mounted on the wall. Beyond that was the rectangular dark wooden table with eight chairs. What made the dining room perfect were the French doors, from there you could see the backyard and the greenery of his lawn.

I turned right again, stopped and froze immediately. I saw the most perfect kitchen ever. It was big, it was masculine, and it had two freaking islands with barstools, three to be exact, positioned in front of them. The mix of grey and steel went perfectly together. Even the farmers sink fit in like it was invented just for this kitchen only. The entire house was a mix of grey, white, and black. The sharp angles of Jason’s furniture didn’t look intimidating, but sophisticated. Definitely a surprise.

I came out of my stupor and followed Jason as he stood near the first couch and asked me to sit. I took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable couch, but upon leaning back, I felt something poke me. Then, a rude voice got my attention, and I looked up.

“How in the hell do you think you'll be able to be Jason’s therapist? Look at him, then look at you.”