Quinn
Straining my groin is bad enough. It puts my hockey career, my future, but even worse, my dignity on the line. Having to get massages in that area from Vance Landon, one of the team trainers, is mortifying. It’s impossible to hide my feelings toward him. If my constant blushing and bumbling doesn’t give it away, my body does. It’s getting to the point where I wonder if hockey is even worth the embarrassment.
Trying to avoid him only makes him seek me out more. He’s determined to rehab my injury, but all I want is for him to leave me alone. Or fall for me. One or the other.
Vance
Ayri Quinn isn’t your typical jock … except for the fact he refuses to admit when he’s injured. I’ve seen more than enough professional sportsmen lose the career they love due to injury, and I’m not having it happen again. Especially not when the guy in question happens to be the sweetest, most awkward, innocent jock I’ve ever met.
When a night out leads to Quinn re-injuring himself, I create a care plan that keeps me hands on, literally. Unfortunately, working with him in close proximity brings all those feelings I’ve been trying to ignore to the surface. I just need to get him better so he can be back on the ice and out of my bed. Ah, my massage bed. Because if this goes on any longer, I might mean my actual bed. Ayri Quinn is impossible to resist.
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