Hot Puck (Rough Riders Hockey 2)

The doctor turned that direction with a disbelieving “Again?”

“We’ve got this,” Eden told him. It wasn’t like he was helping anyway. “Go ahead.”

The doctor moved on to his next patient, and Eden started on the straps attached to the backboard.

She kept a watch on Croft’s face, anticipating trouble if he regained consciousness before they had him secured. He reminded her more of a boxer than a hockey player, with the ugly green-and-yellow resolving bruise shadowing one eye and an inch worth of fresh stitches across the same brow. A few days’ worth of beard darkened the lower half of his face, but the balance and strong, squared angles of his features made him undeniably attractive.

Eden tightened the strap over his hips as Croft’s lashes fluttered. She met Gabe’s eyes and lifted her chin toward the opposite side of the gurney. “Rail.”

Her partner lifted the metal arm while Eden untwisted the final strap for Croft’s chest.

He opened his eyes and looked around, dark eyes flooded with confusion. Urgency created tension along Eden’s shoulders. She wanted to get him tied down before—

“What the—” Croft jerked his legs against the straps, and fury cut across his face. A look that brought back nightmares and chilled the pit of Eden’s stomach.

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Croft,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. “We’ll have you out of this in—”

“Now.” He pulled himself upright and twisted to grab for the strap at his thighs. “You’ll get me out of this right fucking now.”

In her mind’s eye, she saw the spinal column as she’d studied it so intricately. Saw a potentially chipped vertebra cutting into his spinal cord. Saw delicate nerve endings wedged and compressed as he twisted and fought. She was momentarily caught between the urge to swear at him and the desire to throw her hands up and let him ruin the rest of his life.

“Mr. Croft,” Gabe said in what Eden called his dad voice, “you need to lie down.”

But Croft obviously had no respect for any kind of authority. He pulled on the strap in Eden’s hand.

“Mr. Croft—” Gabe repeated.

The buckle pinched Eden’s fingers, pain sliced through her hand, and her fraying patience snapped.

Eden planted her knee on the gurney at Croft’s hip, steadied herself with one hand on the edge, and pulled herself up to his level. Slapping her free hand to the center of his chest, Eden pushed him straight back and against the pad. An oomph drifted out of him, and he stared up at her with a mix of shock and confusion.

“Whoa, sugar.” He held up his hands, his dark eyes making a quick sweep of her body. “I usually save the rough stuff for the second date, but since you’re so good at it, I’ll compromise this time.” He met her gaze again, and his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Bring it, baby.”

A smattering of relieved laughter rounded the room. Eden experienced relief and embarrassment, frustration, and, yeah, a twinge of excitement. Because, okay, he was pretty hot when he smiled. Even for a hockey player.

Gabe stepped to the opposite side of the gurney, and in Eden’s peripheral vision, she noted his nervous gaze darting between them. “Mr. Croft, she’s probably not the one you want to tangle with. I’m far more congenial.”

Both Eden and Croft tilted their gazes toward Gabe.

Eden lifted a brow at him. “Really?”

Her partner smirked back. “Just trying to defuse the tension.”

It worked. When she and Croft locked gazes again, he was grinning. And damn, the boy had a smile that could melt steel.

“Are you done fighting and arguing and generally being an ass?” she asked, far less forceful than she’d been a moment ago, but stern enough to let Croft know she wasn’t backing down. “Are you going to let us do our jobs?”

“I don’t usually let anyone get between me and the ice”—his voice was warm a

nd his gaze playful as he wrapped a hand around her wrist—“but I might make an exception for you.”

She didn’t get a chance to tell him how full of shit he was before he tried to pull her hand away and sit up. But Eden already had her weight balanced over him and used the miniscule advantage to keep him down.

“Look, we both know you could toss me across the room if you wanted. And I really have more important things to do than fight with you, Mr. Croft. I want you to hold still long enough to hear me out so you can make an informed decision.”

His mouth quirked again. “I’ve really got more important things to do than listen to your advice—”

“If you haven’t already completely fucked up your spine,” she said, forging ahead anyway, “continuing to move in the presence of an injury could do even more damage. So if you really love hockey and the rough stuff on the second date, you’ll hold still until we can get you to the hospital and make sure you didn’t do irreparable damage to your head, neck, or back. An injury like that could not only keep you from the things you love most, but it could keep you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.”