Delay of Game (San Francisco Strikers Book 3)

by Stephanie Kay

  It fucking sucked.

  He’d iced his ankle as soon as they’d returned home, but it ached. He’d spent the rest of the night on the couch, after cancelling his plans with the guys, even though he’d needed a beer or three. What he didn’t need was the chirps. Cheesy had been practicing. The latest had centered around Finn needing skinny jeans for his shrinking leg.

  He brushed off chirps all the time—he was a hockey player, after all—but he hadn’t been in the mood to joke around.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and Finn barked out for them to enter as he straightened up on the chair. At least he’d left the crutch at home.

  “How are we doing today, Finn?” Dr. Anders asked, and entered the room, with Sophia behind her.

  He was determined not to spend the appointment fixated on the PT assistant. He would not think about how pink her cheeks had been during their last appointment. Or how he itched to tease her for reasons he couldn’t explain.

  Maybe she was a welcome distraction from his pity party.

  “Not bad. Ready to get started,” he said.

  “No soreness?” Dr. Anders asked.

  “Of course there’s soreness. But it’s manageable,” he muttered, wanting to get the appointment over with. With each one down, he got closer to getting back on the ice.

  They briefly went over what exercises caused the most pain, and he mentioned walking with Bash, leaving out how exuberant his puppy was. Or how difficult it was to keep up with Bash’s pace in the damn boot.

  When Dr. Anders gestured for him to get on the exam table, he removed the walking boot and gingerly hopped up, refusing their help. He could get up on a damn table. She rolled up his pant leg and pressed against his ankle, testing his mobility. He held back a grunt of pain when she found a particularly tender spot, but her narrowed eyes told him that she hadn’t missed his flinch.

  He spent the next fifteen minutes going through stretches with Dr. Anders, while Sophia typed on her tablet. He’d caught her gaze a few times and refused to think about what her soft smile did to his insides. He turned his attention back to his ankle just as Dr. Anders stepped back.

  “Okay. Your ankle looks good. There’s some swelling, but that’s normal. I want to get you on our exercise floor. I think we’ll start with the stationary bike and then work on balance and putting your full weight on your ankle. Sophia is going to lead you through everything, and I’ll check back with you at the end. We want you to push yourself, but if something is too painful, you need to tell us.” She pinned her gaze on him. “You really need to tell us. I don’t want to hear the I’m stubborn excuse again. We are here to help. Don’t think I missed your flinches these past twenty minutes.”

  “I can take it.”

  “I have no doubt, but further aggravating your injury will just make it worse.” Her look would brook no argument, even if he wanted to maintain that he knew what he was doing.

  “I’ll let you know if anything is extra painful,” he said, unwilling to give her anything else.

  “Good,” she said, before turning to Sophia. “Start with the bike, then the Bosu. Finish up in here with resistance bands and EMS.”

  “Ready?” Sophia asked, after Dr. Anders left the room.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he muttered, and followed her out of the office, refusing to focus on her ass as she walked in front of him.

  What the hell was his problem? Yes, she was gorgeous, but she was also helping him rehab. He had to stop thinking about her in any other capacity.

  Then he plowed right into her as she stopped. His hands grabbed her waist to keep upright, and she gasped in shock. He felt the slight tremor under his touch.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling back immediately, cursing himself for not paying attention, and then cursing himself again as his ankle throbbed when he’d stepped back quickly.

  “It’s fine,” she said, pushing open the door to the gym. “But you should pay attention to where you’re walking. We wouldn’t want you to reinjure yourself and delay your timeline.”

  He didn’t miss the scolding tone of her voice—hell, he deserved that—but it was the flush in her cheeks when she turned to face him that intrigued him. He affected her, and that shouldn’t excite him, but he wanted to feel her under his touch again.

  “Let’s start on the recumbent bike,” she said, gesturing across the room, turning his focus back to what mattered.

  “Wouldn’t the upright bike be better? To test the pressure on my ankle.” He hated recumbent bikes. He might as well be lying on the damn floor.

  “We’ve already talked about this, and don’t worry, we’ll get there soon,” she said. He tried to not let his frustration show as he slid onto the bike.

  “Let’s do fifteen minutes. Slowly increase your speed, but don’t strain yourself.”

  He settled back and started peddling. “Yes, I know,” he said. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep on the damn thing.

  Sophia was still trying to catch her breath as she leaned against the wall next to Finn’s bike. Holy crap, how was she supposed to keep it together after he’d grabbed her waist?

  She shook her head and focused on his pace. She was here to do a job. And that was it—no matter how many times she reminded herself that Finn was a player she’d followed for years. Or how his grumpiness turned her on more than it should.

  “Slow down,” she said, spotting his current speed. “This isn’t a race.”

  “I know,” he muttered, slowing down.

  “One minute left, and then we’ll work on your balance.” She focused on his face, looking for any signs of discomfort when he walked away from the bike, but he held his body stiff, his expression neutral. Balancing on the Bosu ball would test him more than anything they’d worked on before.

  After a minute, he moved to the stability ball.

  “Let’s start with both feet on it, and then we’ll move to just your injured foot,” she said, holding her arm out if he needed support.

  He muttered something.

  “What was that?”

  “I don’t need your arm. I can stand on this thing on my own.”

  “Stop fighting me at every turn. I get it. Injuries suck, but we are here to help you recover.” She held her ground with him. It was the only way he would learn to trust her. And that trust would help him rehab correctly.

  He stepped onto the Bosu and wobbled, but he held strong, his knees shaking briefly before he gained his footing.

  “Okay. Now lift your good leg,” she said, ignoring his bristle when she stretched out her arm again. He could balk all he wanted, but he’d be grateful it was there if he lost his balance.

  He slowly lifted his right leg, his eyes focused on the mirror in front of him, and not on his feet, which was a good sign. When you stared at your feet, you tended to lose your balance.

  His ankle shook, and a few curse words slipped free before he dropped his right foot back down, his hand gripping the wall next to him.

  “It’s going to take time. Let’s do this a few more times, see how long you can stay off that right foot, and then we’ll move on to something else,” she said as he rolled his shoulders back and lifted his foot again.

  They continued for another five minutes. He wobbled every time, his right foot coming back down as his mouth tightened. She could only imagine the profanity ripping through his head right now, but she was grateful none of it slipped past his beautiful lips.

  Dammit. Now she was the one holding back curse words.

  Chapter 3

  “To your new job,” Claire said, holding up a mimosa late Sunday morning, and clinking her glass against Sophia’s.

  Sophia laughed. “I’ve already been on the job for a week. How many times are we going to go out to celebrate?” She took a sip of the tart brunch staple, the bubbles tickling her nose. She wasn’t a huge fan of champagne, but add in some OJ and give her a glass. Vitamin C was important.

  “This is the You’ve lasted a week, wo
ohoo weekend celebration.”

  Sophia opened her mouth, but her roommate kept going.

  “We would’ve celebrated with drinks and dancing this weekend, but someone is working at their other job both nights.”

  Sophia let out a sigh. “What was I supposed to do? Tell my family I’m done with the restaurant?”

  “Yes,” Claire deadpanned. “You have your dream job. Or maybe not your ultimate dream job, but it’s a giant step in that direction. You’re working with the best PT in the city, and your parents should be proud and understand.”

  “You’ve met them, right?”

  Claire rolled her eyes. She didn’t get it. Claire had parents that didn’t care if Claire wanted to be an actress, a scientist, or an astronaut. They just wanted her to be happy. Not that Sophia’s parents didn’t love her and want her to be happy. They just had their own set of dreams for their kids.

  “Eventually, I’ll stop working at Lanzi’s.”

  “Are you sure? Sometimes I think you’re going to work both jobs forever.”

  Claire’s gaze held a smidge of what Sophia hoped was concern or frustration, and not pity. Hell. She hoped it wasn’t pity. She brushed that aside.

  “I’m not going to work both jobs forever. I just need more time to ease them into the thought of me not working with the rest of the family. And why are you complaining? I bring home leftovers every time,” Sophia said, polishing off the rest of her mimosa and diving into the fluffiest pancakes in town. Every Sunday, they went to Madeline’s for brunch. Sophia didn’t know what was in the woman’s pancakes, but she could devour them until her belly ached. And she’d probably go back for more.

  “I know, I know. And I mean, don’t get banned from the family, please. I’m not sure what I would do without those stuffed shells.”

  Sophia chuckled at the look of horror that crossed Claire’s face. “I don’t know. If I try to quit, they might ban me.”

  “Okay. Let’s not be hasty. Maybe try cutting down to three days a week instead of five or six.”

  “Nice to see where your priorities lie.”

  “You can’t get those shells anywhere else. What do they put in them?”

  “Love.” They both said at the same time, and then laughed. Every time Sophia asked about the secret ingredient, her parents and aunts and uncles would all say it was love. It was cheesy as hell, but it was who they were.

  “I know that I need to grow a set and tell them I’m leaving, but it’s not easy,” she said. “I’m the oldest in the family. They keep hoping I’ll change my mind and want to stay. I think they keep putting me on the schedule every week in the hopes that one day I’ll forget that I don’t want to work there anymore.” At least her sisters loved working at the restaurant. Caterina would finish college next year and was already a staple in the kitchen. And Elena, her youngest sister, was headed to college in the fall. Elena was a wiz with numbers and wanted to manage the restaurant’s books when their aunt retired.

  Not that she wanted to sign her sisters’ lives away to the restaurant, but they wanted it, and once Caterina was out of school and working full-time at Lanzi’s, hopefully the pressure would ease on Sophia. She bit back her snort. Lofty dreams.

  “I know it’s not, but you’re going after what you want, and you want to help people heal, not stuff them with carbs, no matter how amazing those carbs might be.” Claire gave her a soft smile and Sophia returned it.

  They’d been best friends since Claire had moved in across the street from Sophia when they’d been eight. Maybe not immediately, since Claire had caught the eye of Danny, the boy who Sophia had crushed on since kindergarten. Once they’d realized how gross he was, they’d become fast friends. Boys that picked their noses and flicked it at anyone passing by were not future dream men. Not that she was particularly good at picking out dream men.

  “And when you get your doctorate, you definitely won’t have time for the restaurant.”

  “Whoa. Getting ahead of yourself there. I’ve been a PTA for less than two years and going for my doctorate would be a massive step. I’d either have to go back to school and start the PT program from scratch or do a bridge program that a couple of schools offer, none of which are in California.”

  Not that she hadn’t thought about it—repeatedly, but she’d stuck with the associates program so she could be an assistant for now. Maybe that would be enough, but even she knew that was wrong. She could kick herself for not just going for it from the start, but it always came back to her parents and their expectations of their daughters.

  “And of course that wouldn’t be allowed because then you definitely couldn’t work at Lanzi’s,” Claire said.

  Sophia glared at her friend. Being a full-time PTA was one thing. She still had time for the restaurant. She could still straddle both lines. Barely. But going for her doctorate? She’d have to go back to finish her bachelor’s degree. That was more schooling. More student loans she had no desire to take out. And breaking it to her family that she was finally leaving the restaurant.

  “I don’t have the savings to go back to school anyway.”

  “Stop making excuses. You just don’t want to tell your parents.”

  “For a best friend, you’re really ruining this celebration, and these pancakes,” she said, jabbing her fork at her nearly empty plate.

  “I just don’t want you to settle because you think you’re supposed to.”

  “I won’t. I promise. You know my parents drive me crazy. I just need to show everyone how amazing I am at my job and hopefully it’ll be less of a blow when I finally quit the restaurant. I mean, it’s not like all the family members work there. Grant and Lily have their own careers. Of course, they weren’t born with the Lanzi name, so that probably aided their escape,” she muttered, then reached across the table and snagged a piece of Claire’s bacon.

  “What the hell,” Claire sputtered, before waving her fork toward the wall of food. “This is a buffet. Don’t steal my bacon.”

  “It’s sympathy bacon. You made me feel bad… so this is your payment,” Sophia said between bites, and then grinned.

  “You’re ridiculous. Now go get more bacon,” Claire ordered. “And then I want to hear more about this job. You get to work with athletes, right? Had your hands on anyone I know?”

  Claire wiggled her eyebrows, and Sophia slipped out of her seat and headed for the buffet line, willing the heat to leave her cheeks. Claire had a thing for athletes, and she knew all about Sophia’s favorite Striker, who Sophia had just happened to have her hands on twice this week. She’d keep her patient list a secret for now. It was easier that way.

  And now she was thinking about him again. It’d happened way too often since she’d stepped into the exam room Monday morning. But she couldn’t let him distract her. She had a job to do and she was a professional. She had to prove that to everyone.

  Her nerves wreaked havoc in her belly. Her goals were so close she could taste them.

  That was a lie. She could only taste bacon right now, and maybe another pancake.

  Finn had a few hours to kill before his PT appointment and was tired of staring at the inside of his condo. Bash had still been snoring in his bed when Finn headed up to the gym on the top floor of his condo building. And a good workout, even if he was still taking it easy, would clear out the one too many drinks he’d had last night at Crash and Byrne with the guys. Working out always made him feel better, which was why being sidelined for the last three months was slowly killing him.

  He headed to the row of machines set up for circuit training. Blasting through the upper body exercises, he moved on to lower body, avoiding the leg press machine. Even he knew that pushing out weights with his foot wouldn’t do his ankle any favors. He was stubborn, not stupid.

  Twenty minutes later, the door swung open, and Colin O’Sullivan, Sully to his teammates, walked in, a towel slung around his neck, his red hair standing up at odd angles.

  “Surprised to see you so early
in the morning. Looks like your overnight guest had way too much fun with your hair, Sully.” Finn barked out a laugh as Sully glared at him and ran his hand through his nest of hair.

  “I didn’t take anyone home with me,” he grumbled.

  “Pretty sure you walked out with a stacked brunette.”

  “I just made it look that way. For her,” Sully bristled.

  Finn shook his head. “Sara? Trying to piss her off isn’t going to get you inside her pants any faster.”

  “Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.”

  Finn laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s correct.”

  Sully continued to glare. “Just leave it. She’s with someone anyway. I don’t think she cares.”

  Finn felt bad for the guy. Sara was the head cook at Crash and Byrne and wouldn’t give Sully the time of day. He’d thought something was going on last season, but now she had a boyfriend, and Sully was getting grumpier by the day. He’d end up taking that title from Finn if he wasn’t careful.

  Finn climbed on the bike and started to pedal, keeping his back straight to ease some of the pressure off his ankle. He wanted to lean forward to put all his energy into it, but he resisted. He was so tired of resisting. And so tired of his internal pity party. He was starting to annoy himself.

  They settled into a silent routine, Finn on the bike, and Sully working out his frustration, and most likely a killer hangover, on the treadmill.

  Ah, what he wouldn’t give to be able to run like that. Fuck. He needed help. Finn began to pick up the pace on the bike. His body felt good, and his ankle barely throbbed. Each day was getting better, and he was getting his strength and mobility back.

  “Aren’t you supposed to take it easy on that foot? Pretty sure you spent a chunk of time bitching about it last night,” Sully said, and nodded toward Finn.