Jason (Ryan family Book 1) Page 2

  “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I probably have the wrong address.”

  Those words and her soft tone made something in my gut jolt as I reached out, grabbed her wrist and gave it my all to ignore the electrifying current that shot through my palm right to my dick. I would be surprised if she didn’t catch the fact that I was intrigued by her. If I wasn’t so angry, I would have realized she obviously didn’t have the same reaction to me. Instead, she tried to dismiss me, not to mention dared to try and take away the most alluring sight I have ever seen, that being herself.

  “No, no,” her startled yes came to mine. “You’re at the right place. I’m Jason Harris.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jason Harris. I’m the one who’s going to torment you for the next six weeks.”

  Watching her mouth move as she said those words, I had no doubt what she said was absolutely true. I knew the smile she fixed on her beautiful face, the same one that made her eyes twinkle, was going to haunt my dreams.

  Chapter Two

  Rory

  “Please,” Jason gestured for me to take a seat at his couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

  I could really go for some coffee, since the effect of the last one I had was starting to wear off, and thanks to my asshole brothers who kept me awake for most of the night, I really needed another. Still, I shook my head a little, declining. It was better for everyone if I got some on the way home, because if it wasn't done just the way I liked it, it wouldn't be pretty. For some reason, people tended to look at me funny, slowly backing away when I voiced that the coffee wasn’t done correctly. If they offered me some, they should be able to follow the instructions. It isn’t my fault that most of the population are certified idiots.

  “No, thank you,” I muttered, looking around the place.

  It wasn’t what I expected Jason house to be. Stepping inside, I was able to see everything as it was one huge, open space. On the left, there was a coat closet, and next to the door was a bench where you could sit and take off your shoes. When you turned right, the first thing you could see was a fire place that had grey tiles with black-ish veins in them, going all the way up to the ceiling. In front of the fire place was a couch that could easily seat four people, and in front of the couch was a glass coffee table with chrome legs. On the mantle of the fire place were some picture frames, but I didn’t have a chance to look closely and see what pictures were important enough for Jason to have on display.

  As I continued into his house, I could see another couch and two chairs arranged in front of a huge TV mounted on the wall. Beyond that was the rectangular dark wooden table with eight chairs. What made the dining room perfect were the French doors, from there you could see the backyard and the greenery of his lawn.

  I turned right again, stopped and froze immediately. I saw the most perfect kitchen ever. It was big, it was masculine, and it had two freaking islands with barstools, three to be exact, positioned in front of them. The mix of grey and steel went perfectly together. Even the farmers sink fit in like it was invented just for this kitchen only. The entire house was a mix of grey, white, and black. The sharp angles of Jason’s furniture didn’t look intimidating, but sophisticated. Definitely a surprise.

  I came out of my stupor and followed Jason as he stood near the first couch and asked me to sit. I took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable couch, but upon leaning back, I felt something poke me. Then, a rude voice got my attention, and I looked up.

  “How in the hell do you think you'll be able to be Jason’s therapist? Look at him, then look at you.”

  I did just that, looked at Jason, that is. The man was beyond handsome. Dark brown hair, with just the right number of blond strands in it, which just by looking at them I knew came from being out in the sun and not a bottle. It was a sad fact that nowadays, women had to go to battle for hair color, while for men it came naturally. His brown eyes reminded me of coffee grounds, but then again, that could be just me imagining it, thanks to the lack of caffeine in my blood. High cheekbones, thin lips that for some unexplainable reason look really soft, and a five o'clock shadow decorating his square jaw. Not to mention all the muscles, that even in his relaxed posture, looked flexed and powerful. The man was simply delicious. I could see the other man’s point, and a few years ago, I would have suggested they find someone else to work with Jason, but after working so hard and becoming one of the best in my field.

  Entering the prestigious league to be able to work with professional athletes, I wasn't going to cave. Especially when I saw the smirk Jason was wearing, probably thinking he could intimidate me and get me to leave.

  “My eyes work just fine,” I drawled, feigning disinterest and trying not to fidget as that mysterious thing kept poking me in my lower back. “I'm confident that if Mr. Harris will listen to my instructions, we'll be able to work together just fine.”

  “And would you be able to keep your hands to yourself and not try to get my client to fuck you, so you could get whatever the hell you women want?”

  Wow, the man was hands-down the biggest jerk I ever had the displeasure of meeting.

  “Oh, I'm quite positive that will be avoided,” I said, feeling satisfaction when Jason’s smirk was wiped clean off his face when he heard my words.

  Sure, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and that moment when he touched my skin still had me discreetly clenching my thighs, trying to relieve the pressure building between my legs, but I’d be damned if I ever let him do anything even remotely suggestive. I knew his type. Not this handsome, but the athlete in him. They had women falling down on their knees, begging them to fuck them, wherever they went. And usually, they took the offer. I mean, who wouldn’t? I also knew, from past experience, that they asked for it if you didn’t offer. I don’t know how many times I had to shut a player down and tell him there was no way in hell I would ever have sex with him, give him a blowjob, or let him rock my world, as they put it. Just because I was rubbing the man’s thigh didn’t mean I wanted to give him a hand-job, for Christ’s sake. It was a massage, and they needed to learn it didn’t come with a happy ending. I also knew that most of said players were shit in bed. People talk, and sure, there are some of my co-workers who do this just to get their player and all that comes with him.

  “Let's move on.” Jason cleared his throat, and after running his eyes up and down my frame, making every hair on my body stand at attention, he quirked a brow as I squirmed. “Let me see your recovery plan.”

  I couldn't take it anymore. I had to reach behind my back and move whatever it was that was now bruising my skin. Pulling out a red bra, I gave him a look, finally gaining the upper hand.

  “There isn't one,” I started to explain and had to put my hand up to stop both men from talking when they opened their mouths. “Tomorrow morning, I'll meet you at the hospital when your boot is taken off. Judging by your constant glaring at it, I'm guessing it was probably good they didn't give you the key.”

  “I could have gotten the key?” he asked in surprise, giving the brace another glare.

  It irritated me how cute he looked while doing it. And I doubt he was even aware he was doing it, which of course made it even cuter.

  “After, we'll go to the training center and do a light stretching of the joint. You don't want to start exercises at least for a few days, as the joint is stiff, and if we put too much strain on it before we loosen it up, it could do more damage than good.” Finally, he was giving me a serious look, hanging on my every word, and not looking at me like I was a joke. “Then, we'll do some exercises, including walks and, after a few days, runs. And last, we'll add in weights. In between, you'll get the daily massage to loosen up your muscles, again so the joint will be loose. At first, you will have therapy, and down the road, we'll discuss when to have it two times a day.” I had to admit, I was proud of myself for coming up with a semblance of a plan in under five seconds.

  “When can he start training?” The question came from the
jerk who stood behind my patient, but I gave my answer to Jason.

  “The first assessment still stands. Granted, you did manage to shave off a week of wearing the boot. Unfortunately, I can't say how long it'll take for you to be fully functional and come back to playing without putting yourself into jeopardy of a repeated injury.” I hated that I couldn’t give him the news he wanted to hear, and when his face fell, I had to look away or I would get up, hug him and stroke his hair.

  God, What the hell was going on with me?

  The sound of a throat clearing lassoed my eyes back to Jason. He had a tentative smile on his face as he nodded his head and said, determination steeling his voice, “Let’s do this.”

  *~*~*

  “Hey, boo,” I whispered to my black cat who waited for me to come home and graciously gave me the opportunity to scratch her behind her ears.

  That is, until two seconds later, when she decided I had enough of the gift she was giving me and promptly turned her back, her tail sticking in the air like an antenna, and at a leisurely slow pace went to my kitchen, where she regally awaited me to do my sworn duty of feeding her. Usually, that would irritate me, the fact that she considered me her servant and not fulfilling my dream of her being my pet I could snuggle with, but today, it only served as a reminder I was home and could finally relax. It was a meeting from hell with Jason, where Curt, his manager, as I was informed by the man himself, demanded I first find Jason a suitable therapist. After I phoned the club and they assured him I was indeed the best, which I'll admit left me a little smug, he then proceeded to question my every word. I grabbed a cup of coffee and went to the clinic to pick up Jason's scans and medical history. Thankfully, I was able to avoid Niles, one of the male nurses who got it in his head that his sole purpose on this earth was to fuck me, and his attempts became creepier by the day, and got out without incident.

  After putting my stuff away and looking dreadfully at the stack of papers and scans that awaited me to go through later, I went to the kitchen to do what was demanded of me by increasingly louder meows. I loved my place; it was everything I ever wanted…for now. I was determined not to go down the road my mom did and be financially dependent on some man. I knew if I worked hard and saved what I could, one day I would be able to fulfill my dream and own a house. My mom did her best, but after my dad got killed, working two jobs and taking care of four children became too much. Not that I blamed her. My brothers were the reason I got into physical therapy and always had a secret stash of bail money.

  So, after five years of trying to take care of everything by herself, she caved and got married to Nate, the man she was seeing at the time. Normally, my brothers and I wouldn’t have had an issue with her remarrying. Teresa Ryan was too beautiful of a woman to spend the rest of her life on her own, but our dearest step-dad was a complete and total jerk. He not only constantly reminded her that he was the one who kept a roof over our heads and food in our tummies, but he also went as far as to actually expect my mom to wait on him with dinner ready, demanding to be served, all while she still worked two jobs. Sometimes, and that was before my brothers went into their growth spurt, he would give her threatening looks until she cut his food.

  So, five years ago, when I found her sitting on her bed with tears silently going down her face and longingly looking at a picture of my dad, I had enough. It took some convincing, but I made her see reason, opened her eyes to the fact that all her kids had grown up and lived on their own, and got her to divorce the asshole. I thought I could finally breathe once the divorce papers were signed, but I was wrong. Before the ink was dry, Teresa decided she could start living her life again and started playing the field. When my thoughts went down the dangerous road of my mom dating, I shook my head, threw my bag on the floor, and hung my coat. I didn’t need the torture of dreading what kind of mess she would end up in now, and I also didn’t want to call my brothers and ask if there were any new developments.

  I loved my family, adored them, but they were exhausting sometimes.

  The two-bedroom apartment was my sanctuary. Open floor plan with the kitchen right across from the door, a round table that seated six with a glass vase in the center of it that held four white calla lilies. On the left was a cream couch and chair in front of which stood a brown low coffee table, and farther on the wall hung the big TV. The best part of it all was the big arched windows next to the table that poured the natural light in every corner.

  “Here you go, Miss,” I murmured to my cat, stealing a few more scratches, which she ignored.

  I turned and went down the short hallway that had doors on each side. On the right, it was my makeshift gym. I needed to gain and secure my strength to work all the kinks and aches out of the athletes’ muscles, which were firmer than stone. At least it seemed that way. Opening the door on the left, I entered my bedroom, and not looking up, went straight to my bathroom to my most prized possession…my tub. Turning the hot water knob, I plug the drain and let the water fill the tub.

  “Finally, heaven,” I moaned into the empty bathroom, my voice echoing around the steam-filled room as I lowered myself into the hot water.

  I knew that at least three hours of work waited for me in my living room. I had to go through Jason’s medical history, but as I closed my eyes, his image started dancing behind my closed lids, and the ghost of his touch prickled across my skin, and I really couldn’t care less.

  Chapter Three

  Rory

  “When will you finally tell us who your new patient is?” Max asked me around a mouthful of burger.

  I had every intention of having a quiet and relaxed night home, right after a good hour of soaking in my tub, because God knew I needed it after the day I had. But my oldest brother had other plans. Seeing him the moment I turned the corner as he leaned on the wall next to my bedroom door, holding a bag of takeout containing only one burger and French fries…selfish bastard…I knew my day from hell wasn't over.

  First, I overslept and ran late for Jason’s appointment. I stayed up way too late, studying his medical records and scans. Once his cast was removed, we went on to our first therapy session. Overall, I was actually impressed with the guy. He was in perfect shape, all his random drug tests came back negative, and there was no record in any gossip magazine articles that Google could find of him stumbling out of some nightclub drunk. I checked. I had my suspicions about him being one of those guys who partied all night only to come to practice hung over. It wasn't unheard of, especially in football. But the guy was squeaky clean.

  The moment I stumbled into the exam room, still on my first cup of coffee, the questions started.

  “Do you have a therapy plan?”

  “How long do you think before I can start with practice?”

  “What are we going to do today?”

  “Don't you think, since I have dedicated my life to the sport, I should be able to go through the phases you said yesterday much faster than others?”

  I just stood in the corner of the bright room, trying to hide from the sunlight pouring in through the windows, rubbing my temples and praying to God that I could stop my normal reaction when someone dared to speak to me before I finished with my first cup and not cry. The strong scent of alcohol and other hospital odors didn't help either. I had no other choice in the end but to give the man, who starred in my dreams last night doing all the naughty things to me known to man, the death glare and growl, “Shut up!”

  His eyes closed dangerously to slits and he opened his mouth, but I got there before him, cutting him off in time. “No! What you need to understand is you're the one who needs me. You can't do this without me, and I hate to break it to you, but I'm your best shot at a full recovery.” Okay, maybe I did let myself get a little smug on that last part. It was my full right after all, since I worked my butt off to be where I was. “You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do, to the very last letter. You're not going to bitch at me, whine, beg, or any other thing along those lines, espe
cially before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.” Which reminded me to take a sip, just to get a little more patience for the man. “Now, be nice, shut up, and leave me alone. Don't open your pretty mouth and try to speak. I need total silence if I want to finish my coffee, so we can prevent me from wringing your neck.” The last I muttered to myself, but when I chanced a peek at his face, I was pretty sure he heard me. If the mix of stunned and smug look that was gracing his beautiful face was any indication.

  After Jason sent one last grim look to the brace that the blushing and giggling nurse was holding, I picked up my bag and waited for him to hobble to me so we could get going. That was after she basically crawled all over him under the guise of checking if he was all right, through which Jason just sent her polite little smiles and darted his eyes all over the place. I pushed away the sudden urge to bitch-slap her and instructed Jason to follow me to the therapy area. I hadn't even taken one step out of the exam room when his words stopped me. “No, we have to go to my place.”

  “No, we don't,” I said slowly, trying to remain calm when everything in me was screaming just to say fuck it and quit. We weren't working together even a whole day, and I was close to walking away. “We have everything we need right here at the hospital.”

  At my words, for some reason, a slight blush crept up his neck to his face. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his flexing muscles a siren song for my eyes to track them.

  “I'm sorry, but I can't come here every day. I don't know how, but the press and fans got word that I'm here, and at least twenty of them are waiting at the entrance for me to come out. There's no telling how many of them will be camping here as I come in each day, and I'm sure you want the hospital to function properly and take care of its patients.”