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Orion turned as I peeked around his large frame to see Harley standing in the doorway to my office. “It’s fine,” I bit out. “Just meeting my newest patient.”
Harley’s sigh could be heard all around the room. “Why, Lord? Why?”
Neither Orion nor I said anything as Harley shook his head solemnly, heading back to wherever he had come from, wisely wanting to stay far away from this clusterfuck.
I didn’t blame him.
Letting out a deep breath of my own, I said, “Look, let’s just call a truce. The sooner we can focus on your shoulder, the sooner that we never have to see each other again.”
Orion turned to look back down at me. “Fine,” he bit out.
I arched a brow. “And at any time, if you feel that I am not adequately serving your needs-”
“Do not finish that sentence,” he ordered, cutting me off. “I already told you that I want the best.”
After biting the inside of my cheek all to hell, I said, “Fine. Follow me.”
Without another word said between us, I walked out of my office, Orion Knight hot on my heels. If I were a better person, I’d remind myself that the NBA wasn’t to blame for Cap Aldrich and the scars that he had inflicted, but Orion Knight really was a jerk. While I wouldn’t call him a complete douche, it was clear that he had a healthy dose of arrogance to him, and it really flippin’ sucked that he was so damn hot. Why were all the hot ones such jackasses?
When we reached the therapy room, I wanted to hit my head against the wall as I rememberedexactlywhat it was that I did for a living. However, before I could give myself a concussion, Orion asked, “Where do you want me, baby?”
Just great.
Chapter 11
Orion~
She didn’t have a boyfriend.
With her glaring at me from across the massage table, that’s all that I could think about. The guy from Your Choice was her best friend, and he also worked with her. When he had appeared at her office, he’d been dressed exactly like her, both of them in Coltrane Therapy scrubs. He also hadn’t felt like she’d needed saving because he had quickly gone about his business. Granted, I seriously doubted that this athlete-hating threat to humanity needed saving often.
“I’ll need to assess your shoulder first,” she explained, none too happy about it.
“If I get on that table, you won’t be able to reach my shoulder,” I pointed out.
Sinclair kicked a rolling stool from underneath the massage table. “That’s why we have that.”
Yep, she hated me.
I pulled the stool forward, then took a seat on it. It creaked, making me wonder if it was going to support my weight. Not for nothing, I wasn’t a small guy. Yeah, the massage table looked long enough to accommodate my height, but it made sense since Coltrane Therapy was contracted by the NBA.
“I need you to remove your shirt,” she ordered, again, sounding none too happy about it.
I stared into her royal-blue eyes. “Is that all?”
“I will walk out this door, Mr. Knight,” she threatened.
“Call me Orion,” I instructed as I reached for the hem of my shirt.
“I’d rather not,” she sniffed.
Removing my shirt, I didn’t miss the way her eyes flared at my naked chest, reminding me that women weren’t much different from men. We got a lot of shit for our appreciation of the female form, but women were just as bad. Show them a six-pack, and they looked. Granted, she was probably used to seeing hot guys in their prime, but I wasn’t about to let that deter me.
With her eyes narrowed, she said, “I don’t want any macho bullshit from you.” My hands were itching to grab her by her hips. “If it hurts, then Ineedyou to tell me that it does. I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Mr. Knight.”
“Call me Orion, and I’ll tell you every secret that I have,” I told her.
“I’m serious,” she drawled out, annoyed.
