The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 20
The problem was, my penis often took over where my brain was either too lazy and too indifferent to care. Which was why I kept digging a hole for myself by asking, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be feeling charitable, would you?”
She eyed me warily. “Why do you ask?”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I have tendinosis in my left knee, and it’s seized up on me. I was just headed to get Connors to work on it, but would much prefer if you had a look instead. I’m willing to bet he’s in a shitty mood, and I’d rather not be on the receiving end of it.”
Her gaze trailed down to my knee, skimming over my chest, abdomen, and the tattoo on my arm in the process. A little buzz of awareness went through me. I liked it when she looked. I liked it way too much. She was chewing on her lip, clearly uneasy.
Abruptly, with a shrill denial, she blurted, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m not set up properly yet.”
“What’s to set up? Everything you need is right through that door,” I said, gesturing casually over her shoulder.
She swallowed visibly, and for a second I thought about giving her an out. But something inside me, either my dick or my heart, I swear I didn’t know which, spurred me on. One or the other of them wanted Eilish’s pretty little hands on me. So yeah, probably the former.
After a long hesitation, she glanced at the door and seemed to steel herself.
“Okay well, I can’t promise miracles, but let’s see what I can do for you.”
I smiled widely, and she blinked as though caught off guard. Then she turned quickly and opened the door. Don’t follow her. Don’t do it.
I followed.
“I thought I told you to . . .” Connors’s words petered off as soon as he saw me, which made me wonder if he’d been about to chew Eilish’s head off for no good reason. What an arsehole. I’d keep tabs on his treatment of her, or at the very least mention it to Sean.
“Oh, Mr. Leech, I don’t recall you being penciled in for an appointment today,” he said, unkempt eyebrows furrowing.
“I’m not but my knee’s been acting up. I thought young Eilish here could take a look at it, seeing as it’s her first day.”
She noticeably bristled at the word young, shooting me an irritated glare.
Meanwhile, Connors tossed her a disgruntled glance. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I can do it.”
“But—” Eilish started, and I intervened.
“I’m happy for her to see to me, Connors.”
“Be that as it may, she isn’t qualified,” he sneered and looked at her like she was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.
“I’ve been around the block enough times to be able to guide her myself,” I said, irritated by his attitude. “So you can stand the fuck down.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he sputtered. “I’ll have you reported.”
“Oh yeah? Because you’re a gleaming paragon of virtue. Go back to your six-pack and let Eilish do the job she’s supposed to be training for.”
“I need to oversee her work.”
“Not this time you don’t.” I stared him down. He seemed to conclude that going up against me wasn’t worth the trouble. Everybody knew I could be as stubborn as they came.
With a few unkind words muttered under his breath, he retreated back into his office and turned the TV on. I motioned to Eilish. “Lead the way.”
I could tell she was upset, likely by Connors’s disrespect, but was doing her best not to let it show. I made a mental note to have a word with Coach Brian about it, see if he could maybe give our physio a stern talking to. If he didn’t, I was liable to do it myself and lose my temper in the process. Again.
Eilish stayed quiet as she gestured for me to sit on the examination chair. She bent low to have a look at my knee, and I swallowed tightly, my mind wandering to a place it had no business going. She was obviously young and inexperienced, and all this must’ve been a little intimidating. The last thing she needed was some old perv having dirty thoughts about her, even if she was unfairly beautiful. Too beautiful for a job like this. My single teammates were going to be throwing themselves at her before long. I clenched my fist just thinking about it.
You have no business clenching that fist of yours, my conscience finally intervened. You promised yourself no women until you kept a plant alive for six months, and now look at you.
Yeah well, where were you five minutes ago when I needed you to stop me from following my dick? I shot back grumpily.
“Which knee is it again? Your left?” Eilish asked softly, her cool fingers gently probing.
“Yeah, my left,” I answered, uncharacteristically lost for words. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been touched by someone I actually wanted to touch me.
“How did you develop the tendinosis? Injury or overuse?”
I noticed her eyes move over the tattoo on my arm again, then she frowned as though the sight of it was confusing.
“Overuse, but I did tear the meniscus years ago. I pushed my body too hard for too long. I used to be a heavy drinker, you see. Substance abuse and training for six hours a day don’t make for a healthy combination.”
Her gaze came back to mine and she seemed interested in this information. “You used to be?”
“Yep. I’m sober almost two years. You wouldn’t recognize me these days from the man I was when I drank.” I gestured to my tattoo, the one she’d been looking at a minute ago. “I got this a couple weeks after I quit drinking for good. It’s an ancient Mayan symbol for endurance, makes me feel stronger when I look at it. It also reminds me of how I never want to go back to where I was.”
She eyed me warily. “Why do you ask?”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I have tendinosis in my left knee, and it’s seized up on me. I was just headed to get Connors to work on it, but would much prefer if you had a look instead. I’m willing to bet he’s in a shitty mood, and I’d rather not be on the receiving end of it.”
Her gaze trailed down to my knee, skimming over my chest, abdomen, and the tattoo on my arm in the process. A little buzz of awareness went through me. I liked it when she looked. I liked it way too much. She was chewing on her lip, clearly uneasy.
Abruptly, with a shrill denial, she blurted, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m not set up properly yet.”
“What’s to set up? Everything you need is right through that door,” I said, gesturing casually over her shoulder.
She swallowed visibly, and for a second I thought about giving her an out. But something inside me, either my dick or my heart, I swear I didn’t know which, spurred me on. One or the other of them wanted Eilish’s pretty little hands on me. So yeah, probably the former.
After a long hesitation, she glanced at the door and seemed to steel herself.
“Okay well, I can’t promise miracles, but let’s see what I can do for you.”
I smiled widely, and she blinked as though caught off guard. Then she turned quickly and opened the door. Don’t follow her. Don’t do it.
I followed.
“I thought I told you to . . .” Connors’s words petered off as soon as he saw me, which made me wonder if he’d been about to chew Eilish’s head off for no good reason. What an arsehole. I’d keep tabs on his treatment of her, or at the very least mention it to Sean.
“Oh, Mr. Leech, I don’t recall you being penciled in for an appointment today,” he said, unkempt eyebrows furrowing.
“I’m not but my knee’s been acting up. I thought young Eilish here could take a look at it, seeing as it’s her first day.”
She noticeably bristled at the word young, shooting me an irritated glare.
Meanwhile, Connors tossed her a disgruntled glance. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I can do it.”
“But—” Eilish started, and I intervened.
“I’m happy for her to see to me, Connors.”
“Be that as it may, she isn’t qualified,” he sneered and looked at her like she was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.
“I’ve been around the block enough times to be able to guide her myself,” I said, irritated by his attitude. “So you can stand the fuck down.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he sputtered. “I’ll have you reported.”
“Oh yeah? Because you’re a gleaming paragon of virtue. Go back to your six-pack and let Eilish do the job she’s supposed to be training for.”
“I need to oversee her work.”
“Not this time you don’t.” I stared him down. He seemed to conclude that going up against me wasn’t worth the trouble. Everybody knew I could be as stubborn as they came.
With a few unkind words muttered under his breath, he retreated back into his office and turned the TV on. I motioned to Eilish. “Lead the way.”
I could tell she was upset, likely by Connors’s disrespect, but was doing her best not to let it show. I made a mental note to have a word with Coach Brian about it, see if he could maybe give our physio a stern talking to. If he didn’t, I was liable to do it myself and lose my temper in the process. Again.
Eilish stayed quiet as she gestured for me to sit on the examination chair. She bent low to have a look at my knee, and I swallowed tightly, my mind wandering to a place it had no business going. She was obviously young and inexperienced, and all this must’ve been a little intimidating. The last thing she needed was some old perv having dirty thoughts about her, even if she was unfairly beautiful. Too beautiful for a job like this. My single teammates were going to be throwing themselves at her before long. I clenched my fist just thinking about it.
You have no business clenching that fist of yours, my conscience finally intervened. You promised yourself no women until you kept a plant alive for six months, and now look at you.
Yeah well, where were you five minutes ago when I needed you to stop me from following my dick? I shot back grumpily.
“Which knee is it again? Your left?” Eilish asked softly, her cool fingers gently probing.
“Yeah, my left,” I answered, uncharacteristically lost for words. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been touched by someone I actually wanted to touch me.
“How did you develop the tendinosis? Injury or overuse?”
I noticed her eyes move over the tattoo on my arm again, then she frowned as though the sight of it was confusing.
“Overuse, but I did tear the meniscus years ago. I pushed my body too hard for too long. I used to be a heavy drinker, you see. Substance abuse and training for six hours a day don’t make for a healthy combination.”
Her gaze came back to mine and she seemed interested in this information. “You used to be?”
“Yep. I’m sober almost two years. You wouldn’t recognize me these days from the man I was when I drank.” I gestured to my tattoo, the one she’d been looking at a minute ago. “I got this a couple weeks after I quit drinking for good. It’s an ancient Mayan symbol for endurance, makes me feel stronger when I look at it. It also reminds me of how I never want to go back to where I was.”
