The pain didn’t come. It hurt, but therapy always did.
Though, it was a lot less painful so far because he had Alicia to push him around. Maybe this could work.
* * *
ADMITTEDLY, ALICIA WAS NERVOUS. NOT JUST A LITTLE nervous, but a whole bundle of jammed-up tension that had settled right between her shoulder blades as she worked through this first session with Garrett.
There was a mountain of pressure on her to do this right, and a lot riding on this—Garrett’s career. If she didn’t get his shoulder working again, and not just working minimally, but fully enough that he could pitch and pitch well, then she’d likely be out of a job. Sports medicine specialists were hired—especially by a baseball team—because they were the best. Throughout her time in school and at the orthopedic clinic she’d worked for prior to being hired by the Rivers, she’d prided herself on being damn good at sports medicine. She’d studied anatomy and physiology before she’d ever stepped foot in a college classroom, had worked on her brother’s and cousins’ aches and pains, and had watched athletes’ mechanics and studied their injuries.
This is what she’d spent her life training for. Now was her chance to prove herself.
She put Garrett on the leg press to give his shoulder a break and also to balance his workout. She took a moment to ogle his muscles as he lay back and pushed a sizeable amount of weight. Since he’d warmed up, he’d shed his sweats and was down to his shorts, his thighs flexing as he pushed up on the press.
If she wasn’t an employee of the team, she’d be all over him like she was sure many women were. But fantasizing about the hot pitcher wasn’t going to happen, no matter how amazing his body was or how sexy his eyes were when he glanced up at her.
He was her patient, and he was going to remain firmly rooted in that spot.
He sat up after locking the weights into place.
“So, how experienced are you at this, Alicia?”
“I have plenty of therapeutic experience.”
He dropped his chin then lifted his eyes. “Right. Tons, I’ll bet.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d been questioned by one of the athletes about her background. “I have a master’s degree in sports medicine. I both interned and worked for some of the best orthopedic surgeons out there before I was hired by the Rivers. I’ve been working in this field for seven years. But if you have any doubts about working with me, you can feel free to—”
He held up his hands. “Touchy subject, obviously.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted me. If you’ve changed your mind, just let me know, and I’ll turn you over to Max again.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good.” She picked up her notebook and sat on one of the benches. She was irritated but more at herself than at Garrett. She was being overly sensitive, and she knew it, and it wasn’t his fault. Well, indirectly it was, because he’d placed her in this position by singling her out and putting her in charge of his recovery.
“Why me?”
He frowned. “Huh?”
“Why did you choose me? You had to know I don’t have half the experience of some other members of the team.”
“I told you why. Because you didn’t take any of my shit and you told me exactly how you’d handle me.”
“I see.”
“So . . .” He looked down at his shoulder then back at her. “Handle me.”
She really wished she hadn’t picked up the sexual innuendo in what he said. Which was probably all in her mind and not at all in his words. She wished he was ugly or unpleasant to deal with.
Even when he was whiny and complaining, there was still an underlying charm about him. He might be a pain in some areas of his recovery that made him cranky, but that she could handle. He was also friendly, and oh, dear God, was he gorgeous and sexy, and he had a body she wanted to get her hands on in much more than a therapeutic way.
But this was her golden opportunity, so she was going to have to separate her . . . urges from her job.
“So . . . are we done here?” he asked.
“Nice try. Our time together isn’t up yet.”
“My shoulder feels like a limp noodle.”
“And you’re not the therapist, so suck it up and sit there until I tell you you’re done.”
She walked away to get the stretch bands and the ball, mainly to create distance. The less she chatted with him, the less she’d think about him on a personal level. When she brought him the bands, he gave her a dubious look.
“We should be beyond this.”
“And you like to cut corners. That’s why your therapy isn’t progressing. Let’s do this.”
He blew out a loud, frustrated sigh but did the routine she laid out. She turned some relaxing music on.
“I’d prefer something harder.”
She tried not to wince. For some reason, everything he said conjured up sex in her head. She’d like something harder, too, but it wasn’t music she was thinking about. And she needed to stop acting like a lust-filled teenager for the love of God.
“This is relaxing. I want your muscles liquid, not tensed up.”
“You could always give me a massage after.”
“You want a massage therapist, I’ll bring one in. That’s not what the team is paying me to do.”
“Oh, so you will bring in a masseuse for me?”
She stood beside him, watching and making notes while he pulled at the bands. “If I think one is warranted.”
“Yeah? And how will you know?”
“After I finish you off, I’ll see how your muscles feel.”
“How come you won’t do the massage yourself? My other trainers did.”
“Good for them.”
“But you don’t want to climb on me and massage me. It’s too personal for you.”
Now that was innuendo. Plain and clear. She slanted him a glare. “Well, now I know what kind of massages you get.”
“Huh?”
“Climb on?”
He laughed. “Okay, I was exaggerating. But I know you all give massages. Except you, obviously.”
She met his gaze and couldn’t tell if he was teasing her, challenging her, or plain trying to annoy her. She chalked his attitude up to sore muscles and decided to give him a break. “I didn’t say that.”