Pucked Off (Pucked #5)(32)
Smart crosses his arms over his chest while I hold up a finger and wait for an answer. She picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” Her voice is soft and warm, the way her hands felt on me.
“Hey, hi. Are you busy? Did I call at a bad time?”
“What the hell are you doing? Planning a date?” Smart asks, incredulous.
“Hold on.” I cover the receiver. “I’m seeing if I can get in with the massage therapist.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
“Poppy? You there?”
“I’m here. What’s up? There haven’t been any cancellations since I messaged you half an hour ago.”
“Yeah. I figured. Look, do you think you could fit in a home appointment like we talked about?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few long seconds.
“I might be able to schedule something tomorrow night.”
“That’s too late. It has to be tonight.”
“I’m here until eight thirty.”
“I could come to you. I mean, if that would work. Unless you have plans.” Fuck. I forgot it’s Friday night. Some people have lives. The possibility that she might be going out—on a date even—makes the volcano inside me bubble. What the fuck?
More silence follows.
“Please, Poppy? The team trainer says if I don’t get another massage before tomorrow morning I’m not gonna be able to play on Sunday. It’s an exhibition game against the team who put us out of the playoffs. I don’t wanna miss it.”
“I don’t have plans.” She sighs. “Okay, fine. You can come to me, but make sure you’re there at nine.”
“Okay. Nine o’clock. At your house, right?”
“At my house.”
“You’ll send me directions?”
“I will.”
“Great. Thanks, Poppy. I really owe you.”
“You’re welcome. I have to go. I have a client in a few minutes.”
“Right, of course. See you tonight.”
“Bye.”
She hangs up, and I flash a grin at Smart as I pocket my phone. “Guess I get to play on Sunday after all, aye?”
He doesn’t return it. “A home appointment?”
“Lots of massage therapists do home appointments.” At least I think they do.
“Don’t make me regret cashing in that favor.”
“It’s not like that, Smart. I’m not gonna hit on her.” I don’t want to have to deal with someone else. I already know things with Poppy work.
He gives me a look before he turns to walk away. “Make sure you stretch and use the sauna before you take off.”
The sauna part I’ll do here; the stretching I can do at home. Rookie’s in there hanging out with Miller and Randy when I open the door.
“Romero!” He holds his fist out for props, so I hit him up. “Man, that was a killer party the other night.”
“Glad you had a good time.” I drop down on a free bench and try to get comfortable, which isn’t possible with the way my back feels. Smart has a point about me not being able to play like this.
“Good time? Man, those chicks were up for anything.”
Ballistic’s eyebrow lifts. “Sharing your contact list with the newbie?”
“He can consider it my welcome gift.”
“Best gift I ever got in my life. They gave me their numbers, said anytime I wanted to hang out just to call one of them.”
I snort, but inside I feel hollow. Here’s this kid from buttfuck nowhere, and I’ve managed to taint him before the official start of the season.
Miller blows out a breath. He’s been different with me lately, not hanging around as much. I have to wonder if it’s about more than his becoming a dad.
“Me and a couple of the guys are thinking about hitting Paris Club tonight. You guys wanna come?” Rookie asks, looking around the room.
“Nah, man, I’m staying in with my girl tonight,” Miller says.
“Same,” adds Randy.
“I’ve got an appointment for a massage, so I guess it depends how late that goes.”
Miller’s brow furrows. “You mean Poppy? From the clinic?”
I nod. “Yeah. She’s doing me a favor and treating me at home ’cause she didn’t have any openings and Smart and Coach won’t let me play if I don’t get one.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” Miller looks from me to Randy, his expression incredulous.
Randy shrugs, because this is the first he’s heard about it.
“Dude, you fucked her friend,” Miller snaps.
Rookie barks out a laugh.
I don’t know what Miller’s problem is. I can’t get a gauge on him. “I apologized, and she was cool about it.”
“You apologized?”
“Well, yeah.”
“For fucking her friend?” Miller looks like he’s about to have a brain aneurism.
“Not exactly, but I told her a censored version of what you said, about knowing her, and then I apologized in case I was an asshole. She said it wasn’t a big deal, so—”
His mouth drops open. “Jesus, Romero, you’re fucking clueless.” He shakes his head and turns to Randy. “I gotta go. Sunny’s having some kind of craving. I’m gonna cook burgers so she can huff the barbeque smell out of my shirt.”