Page 10 of Golden Goal

“Hey, Abbott. Got a minute?”

I think he doesn’t hear me as he carries on walking. But after a few steps he comes to a halt, his shoulders falling as he turns around.

“Yeah, Doc?”

Chapter five

Holt

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck.

I plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile as I wait for Dr. Jansen to speak. She takes a few more steps until she’s standing directly in front of me. Up close, I realize how short she is. Well, compared to me, she is. But also she’s pretty.

Strike that, she’s gorgeous.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her that way. But I can’t help it. I have eyes. I’m not blind. Plus, she’s the exact opposite of Kat as far as looks go. Kat was bottle blonde. Dr. Jansen has black hair. Kat’s makeup was always too much, between her fake ass long eyelashes and her swooshing eyeliner. Dr. Jansen’s makeup appears to be very natural, if she’s even wearing any, which I like.

Nope.

None of that.

She works for the team.

She’s the new doctor.

Not someone I should be thinking is pretty. On second thought, thinking she’s pretty is probably okay. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a woman’s beauty. What I shouldn’t be doing is comparing her to my ex.

“How’s your right hip feeling?” she asks.

I rear back slightly. “It-it’s fine.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

I’ve had the tiniest twinge of pain in my right hip for the past few weeks. During games, I’ve been able to push it away and do my job. But once the adrenaline wears off, like it’s doing now, I can feel it hurting again.

She meets my gaze, crossing her arms. “I think that’s bullshit, Abbott. So let’s try again, shall we? How’s your right hip? Your leg?”

I sigh, too tired to argue and ready to get home. “It hurts a little. I’m used to it though. Part of being a hockey player is always having a few aches and pains.”

She blinks up at me for a second. “Come to my office tomorrow morning at eleven, and we’ll see what’s really going on.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to protest as she brushes past me and continues down the hallway. Gritting my teeth, I hurry after her, my long legs eating up the distance between us.

“Wait up,” I say, grabbing her arm.

That’s a mistake because when I touch her, it feels as if I put a fork in a socket and got zapped by electricity. Or at least that’s what I assume it would feel like. I jerk my hand away.

What the hell?

Her eyes flash to her arm where I touched her before she peeks up at me, and I wonder if she felt it too.

“What?” she asks.

“I’m fine, Doc.”