4th & Girl

He nodded. “Got it.”

Just as he started to step inside the bathroom and shut the door, I remembered one last thing.

“Oh! Shit! And don’t flush the toilet either!” I exclaimed as I clumsily stopped the door’s momentum with my foot.

And the Medical Assistant of the Day award goes to…not me.

We stared at each other through the small crack in the door, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smack my head against said door, or run away and hide behind Lisa’s Leaning Tower of Pee-sa.

But, eventually, there was that sexy little smirk again.

If it were up to me, the damn thing should’ve been illegal.

I mean, who in the hell could work under these kinds of conditions? With this kind of hot, red-blooded male with the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen staring back at them?

Certainly not me.

“Pee in cup. Don’t flush the toilet. Don’t put the lid on the cup, and hand it to you when I’m done,” he said, and amusement cradled his voice. “Anything else?” he asked, and I swear on Grandma Louise’s grave, those eyes of his turned even bluer with his words.

Fuck if I knew. But it was as far as I’d gotten in the instructional manual.

“That should do it.” I hope.

I removed my right foot from the door and my left foot from my mouth, and while Leo went into the bathroom and did the damn thing, I slipped on latex gloves and waited outside while I mentally chastised myself.

When he comes back out here, do not make it awkward, Gemma.

Don’t say anything like “nice urine” or “good job, buddy” or offer a fucking fist bump.

For the love of God, just collect the urine and do not make it awkward.

Piss. Shake. Flush.

It was the normal routine whenever I, or anyone with a dick for that matter, went to the bathroom. So, honestly, I thought I’d have it down.

But this wasn’t an ordinary trip for several reasons, and the most glaring excuse of all was the cute blond waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, I was self-conscious.

Could she hear me peeing? Was she wondering what was taking me so long? Was this all normal practice for her?

I had no idea, but it was safe to say, thinking about all of it had me rattled.

Plus, I wasn’t allowed to flush when I was done, a practice ingrained in me from the time I was a toddler by my type A mother, and the change in routine had me repeating the simple instruction in my head like some kind of bathroom psychopath.

Don’t flush, don’t flush, don’t flush.

Not to mention, the importance of this sample was significant, as the results would determine if I was eligible to play professional football or not.

I wasn’t worried—I wasn’t into drugs and had barely even imbibed alcohol since high school—but the pressure of everything falling on one tiny cup of piss still niggled.

Thirdly, I didn’t think I’d ever had to hand a cup filled with piss to such a pretty woman before.

My nurses during NCAA testing always seemed to be more Helga than Heidi, so mixing thoughts of urine and arousal had never been an issue.

Until now.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Setting the cup carefully on the sink, I washed my hands and dried them with a paper towel before grabbing the specimen and opening the door.

The cute blond’s head jerked up from the spot on the tile she’d apparently been focusing on, and I felt a smirk curl the very corner of my mouth.

Maybe I’m not the only one feeling self-conscious.

And good God, she was pretty.

Pint-sized. Big blue eyes. And the kind of full lips most women would pay large amounts of money to recreate with the help of a surgeon.

Not to mention, even with her in a pair of navy blue scrubs, I could tell she had curves.

The exact kind of curves that would make my mouth water and fit perfectly into my big hands.

I felt like a bit of a bastard for even taking that much inventory on the woman who’d been hired by the Mavericks to help process our urine samples, but I couldn’t fucking help it. She was perfect in all the ways that drew me in, and with her quirky yet adorable awkwardness, she was imperfect in all the ways that I found endearing.

“All done?” she asked, and my little smirk turned into a smile.

“Yep. I figured it was best to finish up completely rather than come out halfway through.”

She blushed at my teasing and looked back to the ground, reaching out for the cup as she did. “Of course. Right.”

I shook my head slightly, taking the final two steps necessary to close the distance, and pushed the cylinder into the palm of her hand before releasing.

She exhaled then, looking up from the tile to meet my eyes once more—the connection was powerful.