He looks over then and smiles. “Okay, Shantae. Tell me how you like your ankles done.”
“Hard. And tight,” she says, waggling her brows.
He looks up once more and then laughs. “Okay.”
She tries to talk to him, but once more, he sidelines her. He makes quick work of her ankle, and when he’s done, he pats it. “Good?”
“Great.”
“Anything else?”
“Your number? Your time?”
He grins at her. “Sorry, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’m focusing on my goals.”
“I can respect that,” she says, pressing her hands into the table so her breasts pop out farther. “But you can focus on your goals, and I can focus on making you feel good.”
“How about this,” he says, crossing his arms, “I tape your ankles when you need it.”
She waits for him to say more, but even I can tell he’s done. She eyes him as he stands there, cool as a cucumber. “Okay, point taken.”
“Awesome. Have a great practice.”
“Yeah,” she grumbles as she gets up and heads out. “Shut it, Cal.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I laugh, but she’s pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone reject her. Super odd. But then, I respect what he is saying. After everything he’s been through, I wouldn’t doubt that he wants to keep things low-key. It’s been rough on him. While I want to ask him out or even just get to know him, I can’t help but feel as if it’s not the right time.
I clear my throat and pray Evan doesn’t remember me. Maybe he didn’t get a good look at me. Once I enter, he looks up and almost looks down again, but then he points to me. “Hey!”
Great. My heart kicks up at being under that green-blue gaze. “Hey,” I draw out, my face warming. “Hoping you didn’t remember.”
He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh that makes me tingle everywhere. “Forget you? Never.”
I cover my face to keep him from seeing me geek out. “Great.”
“Hey, that step was brutal. Even I tripped on it. I didn’t fall, but I tripped.”
I drop my hands. “I sent in a complaint!”
He laughs as I sit down. “I mean, you should. Especially since you have weak ankles.”
When he winks, I realize something.
Weak ankles are the least of my worries; it’s these weak knees now.
“True,” I agree, my heart pounding in my chest. “So, I like them taped tight around the ankle bone, but loose on the top and semi-tight on the bottom. I lose circulation in my toes sometimes.”
He nods. “Both ankles?”
“Yeah. Snapped them in a double layout off bars when I was thirteen.”
“Good God. I took a puck to my ankle and shattered it. I have to wear sleeves on it.”
“I used to do the sleeves, but tape is just better. More hold.”
“Good to know,” he says, and then he starts to tape, “if I ever hit the ice again.”
“Have you not played since retiring?”
He stops and looks up at me. “Must be a hockey fan. Or just rumors?”
He doesn’t remember me. Wow. Okay. “Hockey fan.”
“Nice.”
When he doesn’t answer me, I ask again, “So, you haven’t been playing?”
“Nope,” he says as he makes quick work of the prewrap. “Been focusing on healing.”
“That’s great. Healing will help get you back out there.”
He shrugs as he starts to tape. “I don’t know if I want to get out there.”
“But you love it.”
“I know. But right now, all I see is what I couldn’t conquer.”
“I get that,” I say, nodding even though he’s not looking at me. “I almost walked away from bars when I couldn’t catch a skill called a Ray. I knew I needed it for college and figured if I couldn’t do it, why try? But then my love for the sport made me work even harder.”
He looks up. “What if I don’t love it and just thought I did?”
I nod slowly. “Then that is something you need to recognize and build from.”
He holds my gaze, and I feel like I’m suffocating. I press my lips together and watch as he glances down before quickly moving his eyes back up to mine. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he do anything. We just stare into each other’s eyes as the air around us crackles and pops. When he looks down, I take in a deep breath, sighing loudly as he finishes my other ankle in silence.
“How do you like the gym?” I ask since the silence is driving me nuts.
“It’s a great facility.”
“Is everyone being nice? Coach is rough around the edges.”
He nods, and I enjoy how his brow furrows as he concentrates. His hair brushes against his forehead with every move he makes. His shoulders flex, and Jesus, I’m getting hot watching his man tape me. In my head, someone has cued the porn music.
When he starts to answer me, I’m thankful and disgruntled by his distraction. “Coach is a hoot, reminds me of my brother. And everyone is coming off really thirsty, if you know what I mean.”
“Because they are,” I deadpan, and he laughs. “Sorry, they’re a lot, but we’re a good group of girls.”
“Yeah, I can tell. And I get it. I’m the new, sparkly thing. They’ll get bored of me.”
Good, because I won’t. He pats both of my ankles once he’s done checking them, and then he looks up at me. “How does that feel?”
I flex my toes. “Great.”
“Awesome. Have a good practice,” he says, holding out his hand for mine. I take it, and somehow, we’re doing a handshake I used to do with Nico. He laughs, visibly impressed. “You know that shake?”
I nod. “I do. I do it with my dad-guy.”
“That’s crazy. I learned it from my brother.”
Whom I assume taught it to Nico. Why don’t I say that? “That is crazy.”
He helps me off the table, and I lift up on my toes to make sure the tape is good. “Cool. Okay, so I guess I’ll see ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya. Don’t trip over anything.”
I look back at him. “I won’t. I’m a gymnast, which means I have perfect balance.”
A beautiful grin comes over his face, and I smile back before I head out of his office.
With way more pep in my step than needed.
So much so, I trip on the mat when I go to join my team.
I look back, praying Evan didn’t see that, but I find he is watching me as he twirls a roll of tape on his finger.
And he’s laughing.
You’ve got to be kidding me.