Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) (2 page)

“As far as I can tell, such a Chinese take-out place doesn’t
exist.”

“Ah.” He chuckled, delighted that she’d actually responded.
Also, the idea of food poisoning was working toward his goal of total
flaccidity. “Then you
have
begun to settle in. I’m sorry one of us
didn’t warn you about that.”

Savannah made a sound that could almost be called a laugh.
Garrick grinned.

Refusing to let his big mouth get him back into hot water
when, for the first time in weeks, he had one leg out of the tub, he shut up. Savannah
finished his wrap. As soon as she’d applied the last piece of tape, he moved
away. This warm fuzzy moment could result in a spandex pup-tent if he lingered
too long.

“Thanks.” He yanked on his shorts—a meager defense at best.

“Let me know how that feels. I added some extra support on
the side, see if it helps.”

“I have no doubt it will,” he said. “You’re like god’s gift
to tape.”

A grateful, albeit bewildered smile was his reward. Months
of torture suddenly seemed worth it, even if he’d come across as a complete
dork.

God’s gift to tape? Very smooth, asshole.

“Ahem.”

Bobby Kramer stood in Savannah’s doorway, ten minutes early
for his appointment. Turning back to her desk, she rolled her eyes. “I have to
go, Callum,” she told her oldest brother through the phone. Callum also had to
go on the ice tonight, so they’d needed to wrap up anyway. Still, her neck
heated with annoyance at Bobby.

Though she tried not to rank them, she definitely liked some
players better than others. Bobby Kramer would always reside at the bottom of
that list.

She nodded politely as he stomped past her and parked
himself in front of her table, his ass resting against the edge. He liked to stand
for his visits, probably just so he could loom over her. Most of the guys who
needed elbow work sat, either in a chair or on the table. Not Bobby. He stood, leaned
into her, held his arm closer to his body than necessary, and recently had
taken to bending his head down to hers, trying to force an intimate
conversation.

Just the memory of his breath on her neck made her shudder.

She’d made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested in him
or amused by his advances. He either didn’t understand her not-very-subtle
rebuffs or he didn’t care. The last time he’d been in her office, he asked what
she was doing that weekend.

She’d snapped, “Nothing with you, Bobby, and that’s all you
need to know.”

His friends had howled at that and she’d kicked herself for letting
her anger show. Not that she regretted getting her point across since it seemed
he’d finally heard her. The look he’d given her as he’d left her office that
night had been chilling.

The look he sent her right now wasn’t much better.

Bobby Kramer was a local, like Garrick. Yet not like Garrick
at all. He was the son of some big-wig businessman who owned half the bars, all
the off-track betting joints, and a couple hotels in town. His father was a
notorious douchebag, from what Savannah had heard, and he had obviously raised
his son in his own image.

Bobby was a spoiled brat. No, worse than spoiled.
Entitled
.
Entitled to his position on the team, though his only specialty was fighting
and he was one of the weakest skaters on the roster. Entitled to the devotion
of the puck bunnies he treated like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Entitled
to be late to practice and ignore the advice of the trainer, coaches, and team
management alike. Entitled to show up for his appointment with Savannah any
time he saw fit.

At least today he was early, so he wouldn’t screw up
everyone else’s time too. She’d scheduled him first with the hope he’d be in
and out quickly. She’d love to bounce him to Steve, the very nice assistant
trainer who helped out on game nights, but Bobby’s elbow work took more
strength and finesse than Steve’s experience or seventy-year-old hands could
handle.

Facing her counter, she gathered what she would need and schooled
her features before she turned back to Bobby.

“How’s the elbow? Has it been bothering you at all?”

“It fucking sucks.”

She kept her voice neutral. “Have you been icing it after
games and practice?”

Bobby’s face twisted into an ugly sneer, which, actually,
wasn’t too different from his normal expression. “I don’t have time for that
shit. I shouldn’t have to. If you knew what the fuck you were doing, I wouldn’t
have this problem.”

She forced herself to move slowly, carefully placing the
rolls of tape and bandages on the table next to Bobby’s hip where they would be
within easy reach.

“I think you’ll find icing after games and practice will
help.”
Just like I told you the last twenty times.
“I can also refer you
to a couple good PTs in town if you want to get another opinion.”

“Fuck that. I don’t need any ice but the shit I’m skating on.”
He chuckled at his own feeble wit. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is I have
to do stretches after I jerk off.”

Oh yes, Bobby was
all class
.

She picked up a bandage and began to wrap his arm. He didn’t
even try to keep it away from his ribs, forcing her to reposition him repeatedly.
Her jaw ached from gnashing her teeth, but she did her job and did it well.

Bandage secured, she reached for the tape, her fingers barely
brushing the roll before he yanked it from her grasp. She grabbed for it, twice,
increasingly furious at Bobby’s asinine game of keep-away. She realized too
late she was off-balance and much too close.

She had just threaded her fingers through the tube of the
tape when Bobby grabbed her ass and hauled her up against him.

Oh shit
.

Stomach plunging, she tried to shove him away. “What the
fuck are you
doing
?”

Using her knee against his thigh as leverage, she drilled
her patella into his quad and pried herself loose. He released his hold on her
ass so suddenly she stumbled back,  slamming against the hot tub with a clang,
the scissors in her back pocket digging painfully into her right butt cheek.

Bobby immediately advanced on her.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Bobby,” she said, her voice
loud enough to carry into the silent hallway.
Where the fuck is everybody?

Not for the first time, she regretted team management’s decision
to move the trainer’s office out of the locker room when she took the position.
Steve was still in the old space since this new one was so small. She could
have used his help right about now.

She dodged to the right, but Bobby stopped her. He wrapped one
ham-sized hand around the edge of the tub, cornering her and killing any hope
of getting between him and the door. She thrust her palm against his chest in a
vain attempt to get him to back the fuck off.

He shoved his face to within an inch of hers. “You’re a fucking
bitch.”

Adrenaline rampaged through her system and bile rose in her
throat. She’d once heard one of the most effective means to deter a would-be attacker
was to vomit on him. She’d thought it would be hard to force herself to barf at
a moment like this. As the burn reached her tonsils, she realized it would be no
trouble at all.

She cocked her leg, ready to thrust a knee up. “Back off.
Now
,
Bobby.” Her command was loud and firm and it didn’t do shit.

“You fucking bitch. You think you can talk to me like that?
You think you’re better than me?”

She wisely kept her mouth shut and instead shoved both hands
against his chest as hard as she could. He didn’t budge. Changing tactics, she
swung her leg, her toe connecting with his shin. He didn’t even blink. Goddamn
it, she wasn’t even sure he’d felt it except that his hand came down, blocking
her knee from making contact with his groin.

“Nice try, bitch.”

“Back off, asshole!
Now
!” Hysteria laced her voice
and she swallowed hard. She was trapped. Fear swept away the last vestiges of
annoyance and she drew in a deep, shaky breath. Time to scream her freaking
head off.

Before she made a sound, Bobby shoved away from her and spun
to face the door while she slammed into the tub once more. A huge man charged
into her office, roaring like an enraged bear.

A sharp stab in the ass reminded her she wasn’t without a
weapon and she yanked the scissors from her back pocket, fully prepared—
eager
even
—
to stab Bobby, if he wasn’t ripped limb from limb first.

Never in her life had she been so happy to see Garrick
LeBlanc.

Garrick hurled himself at Bobby, determined to rip his
fucking useless head from his fucking useless body. Under any other
circumstances, Bobby’s cowardly retreat up and over Savannah’s treatment table
might have been funny. Garrick wasn’t amused. He was about to sail right over
it himself when Savannah grabbed his arm.

“Wait.” She was pale, her knuckles white on the hand brandishing
the scissors.

His hesitation was all the time Bobby, the fucking scumbag,
needed to escape. His heavy footsteps retreated down the hallway to the locker
room. He let go of chasing Bobby down for now, though he would definitely get
back to him later.

Garrick spun to face Savannah. Her eyes widened as she
stumbled back.
Damn it.

Savannah’s disheveled appearance set off another surge of
rage but he took a deep breath and wrestled it back under control. “Are you
okay?” he asked as gently as he could manage. He reached for her, freezing when
she shied away. His arms dropped to his sides, his hands curled into fists.

God, he
really
wanted to hit something.

She visibly regrouped and released her death grip on the
scissors to straighten her clothes, her pale cheeks turning a dull red.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

 Her voice was remarkably steady. He might have believed she
had nerves of steel if he hadn’t seen her hands shaking as she put the scissors
down on a tray.

“I’m going to get Mark,” he said, referring to the team’s manager.
“Do you want to come with me, or are you okay here alone for a minute?”

She surprised him by grabbing his arm. “No. Don’t.”

“Rick, then?”

“No!” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s
just get you wrapped up for the game.”

“What?”

“Let’s get you prepped and we can figure out the rest
later.”

Garrick stared at her. “Figure it out later?”

“Yes.” She prodded him toward her table.

He held his ground. “No.”

Her hands fell away and her shoulders slumped. “You’re going
to be difficult, aren’t you? Can’t we just forget about this?”

“Can’t we just…
what
?” he yelled. Loudly. Maybe he
wasn’t being the sensitive new-age guy he was supposed to be in this situation,
but he really didn’t give a flying fuck. “Are you seriously asking me to forget
that Bobby just attacked you?”

He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more—what Bobby had done
or that she was going to let him get away with it. He would have sworn she was
smarter than that.

“No, of course not,” she said, clearly trying to placate him.
His anger and disappointment ratcheted higher. “I’m obviously not going to
forget that. All I’m asking is that I be allowed to get through my pre-game work,
then I’ll go to Mark and tell him myself.”

Garrick was only mildly relieved. “Bobby is bad news. You
should tell Mark now.”

“And what? Send you and everyone out on the ice without proper
prep? Pretend they’ll delay the game while Mark scolds Bobby for being a
colossal asshole?”

“We can live without you,” he said, skillfully proving yet
again his inability to prevent his foot from lodging in his mouth around her.

“Gee, thanks.” She grabbed more bandages.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant for one night. Tonight.”
He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He was fucking this up.
She’d never listen to him if he kept insulting her, for Christ’s sake. “You’re
the best trainer this team has ever had.”

She blinked. “Thank you.”

“My point,” Garrick continued, “is that Bobby can’t get away
with this shit. And you can’t think it’s okay.”

Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her hand across her
forehead. “You’re right. It’s not okay. I give you my word I’ll go to Mark. But
all he’s going to do is slap Bobby’s wrist. I’d rather minimize the drama as much
as possible.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

“Look, I’m the new girl, right? And, you know, a
girl
.
Well, a woman, actually, but that’s an argument for another night. I’m pretty
sure it won’t shock you to learn that I get hit on sometimes.”

He cringed, taking some solace that the corner of her mouth
kicked up in response. Like just maybe she could find humor in his idiocy.

“The last thing I need is some huge brouhaha that impacts
the entire team before a game because of some shit like this. I promise you I
will speak with Mark. Tonight. And if it’s okay with you, I’ll tell him to
verify what happened with you if he feels it’s necessary.”

“Please do.”

“But as much as I’d like to have Bobby smacked down in front
of the entire team, I would rather have this be handled discreetly.”

Why shouldn’t Bobby be smacked down? Handed his ass and his
walking papers? The asshole deserved that and more. Though Garrick wasn’t naïve.
It was highly unlikely to go down that way.
Unfortunately
.

Savannah gently urged him toward her table again. “I’m
asking you for a favor,” she said, her eyes pleading. “I don’t think I can
explain to you in the next five minutes just how much this job means to me.”

Sighing, he stripped his gym shorts off and stood where she
wanted him. “Try.”

Her lips curled, just a little, and she met his gaze. “Thank
you.”

“You’re welcome.” He tried to ignore what her smile was
doing to his insides. “I’m going to talk to Mark an hour after the game. If you
haven’t told him by then, I will.”

She nodded, looking straight into his eyes. “He’ll know.”

He still didn’t like it, but he believed her. “Okay.”

She immediately went to work wrapping his hip.
Distraction
time.

“So why hockey? Why this job?”

She didn’t hesitate. “It started with my brothers.”

“Are they hockey players?”

She laughed. “Yes. All six of them.”

Two hours later, early in the second period, Savannah stood with
Mark in the tunnel to the locker room, next to the bench. She kept one eye on
the players and the game, always on the alert in case they needed her. The line
change came off the ice and all sat without a glance in her direction.

Quickly, quietly, she told Mark what had happened.

She fought to remain detached as she laid out the details,
only stopping when Mark moved toward Bobby, clearly furious. She put a quelling
hand on his arm, discreetly pointing out the TV cameras, her smile fixed in
place.