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If I were one of my patients, I would tell them to face their fear head-on, which is why I haven’t pushed Duke away. What we’re doing wrong is still highly unethical and unprofessional. We can be friends until his suspension ends.
After Max looks like she’s about to fall over, she skates off the ice and rushes toward me.
“Mommy, did you see me? I beat Duke at hockey.”
Duke is behind her, laughing his ass off. “You did good, kid.” He pats the top of her helmet.
He drops his stick against the bench and strips off his gloves. Then, he sits down in front of Max to help her remove her equipment.
“Mommy, Duke said he’ll get me a special hockey stick like his.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he says.
He holds up the black hockey stick that says CCM on it. They all look the same to me. I can’t tell one stick apart from the other.
“They make the same one for kids,” he says, setting it on the floor. Then, he leans in close. “Don’t worry. It’s just a standard stick most of us use.”
“Yeah, and she’s going to tell everyone on her new team that she uses the same stick as Duke Baldwin. And that he’s friends with her mom.”
“That should make her pretty popular,” he says with a wink.
Since Duke doesn’t see the problem with that, I don’t point it out. No sense in ruining a good day over nothing. It’s bad enough that Max told her dad about Duke hanging out with me after the game. His teammates, one of which was a patient, saw us together, too. We don’t need anyone else to know about us. Our relationship is already much too complicated.
On our way back to my house, Duke turns up the heat in the car for Max. She’s in the backseat, teeth chattering. I rub my hands together in front of the vents, and Duke laughs but doesn’t comment.
“You better get used to the cold, kiddo,” he says to Max. “Or you won’t last long playing hockey.”
Easy for him to say. Men run hotter than women because they have more muscle mass. Duke has a whole hell of a lot of muscle hidden beneath his long sleeve shirt. He doesn’t even bother to wear a winter coat. Most of the time, I see him in a thin shirt more appropriate for summer.
We haven’t discussed the kiss. Our sessions have been about Duke and helping him grow. I still think about kissing him, think about how his hands felt against my skin, leaving a brush of heat in his wake. Some things you will never forget. For me, that’s Duke and that heart-stopping kiss.
After we get to the house, I turn on the shower for Max. She looks like a wet dog, with her sweaty hair now frozen to her head from the cold. I promise to make her favorite—hot chocolate with four marshmallows. Without complaint, she gives me a smile and then disappears into the bathroom. She’s a good kid, but I swear she listens more with Duke around.
“Thank you,” I say to Duke on my way into the kitchen.
“For what?” Duke asks as he follows behind me.
“Max is excited that you’re coming with us on her first day of practice.”
“Her teammates will never believe she knows me otherwise. And besides, what kind of coach would I be if I didn’t come and watch her first practice with the team.”
“You’re good to her, Duke. I can’t thank you enough.” I point at the pantry closet on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Can you get the marshmallows out?”
I reach into the cabinet and grab the box of hot chocolate Max loves. Duke comes up from behind me, digging his hip into my side.
“You’ve been good to me,” he says against the shell of my ear, dropping the bag of marshmallows on the counter in front of me.
His masculine scent—a mixture of sweat and spicy aftershave—fills my nostrils. He smells so damn good I drink him in. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath when he moves my hair off my neck. My breath catches as his fingers lightly graze my skin. A moan escapes my lips when his lips hover over my neck, his breath so warm against my cold skin. He slides his hand onto my hip, and his fingers tug at the waistband of my jeans. I want him so damn bad I could scream.
“Duke,” I whisper. “Max is down the hall.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, raging a war inside me. I can’t control myself around Duke, and the feeling seems to be mutual.
“You drive me crazy, Doc.”
I spin around to face him, and my chest is pressed against his. Duke lowers his gaze and licks his lips. You can see down the V neck of my sweater from this angle.
