002

“Congratulations. You’re hired.”

I sat across from Coach Williams, pen in hand, the employment contract open to the last page. My signature sat on the left.

He extended his hand, smiling. “I’m sure you won’t regret this.”

I smiled back, not believing a word of it, and signed. This money was the only ticket to mine and my sister’s safety. That was the only reason I was here.

“Your official work begins tomorrow,” he said, standing, “but you need to meet someone first.”

I followed him down the hall to a private room. He knocked once.

“Come in. The deep lazy baritone that answered was so familiar and it sent a shiver down my spine.

That was unmistakably Chase Hudson’s voice.

Coach Williams opened the door and held it open for me. I thanked him and stepped inside.

I was met with a wide and spacious room that looked more like a penthouse than a hospital room.

The room was decorated with a minimalist aesthetic but the person occupying the bed drew all the attention.

Chase Hudson lay propped against a pile of pillows, a tablet resting on his lap. His dark hair was tousled in that messy way models strive for...It was giving typical bad boy vibe.

Even lying down injured, he radiated an intimidating energy. The hospital gown did little to hide the powerful build of a professional athlete. He was, as Mabel had so crudely put it, fucking handsome.

His eyes lifted from the tablet, settled on me, and narrowed. A smirk curved his mouth.

“Coach, you really are the best. How’d you know I was bored and needed someone to play with?”

“Stop fooling around. Miss Hartley will be your personal nurse.” The coach's voice was tight with barely controlled frustration.

“Oh yeah? I thought she’d be my playmate.” He mused.

I glared at him. Coach Williams ignored the comment and turned to me.

“He’s being discharged tomorrow morning. Be here on time.”

He gave Chase one last warning look, then the door clicked shut behind him.

The smirk vanished the second we were alone. Chase’s expression went flat.

“So you’re the new babysitter. Tell me, did Coach promise you a bonus if you last a week? Or better yet, how the hell did your dumbass boyfriend let you take a job looking after someone like me?”

The words landed like salt on an open wound. But I kept my expression flat and voice calm.

“Since you already know you’re awful to deal with, try not to make this harder than it has to be.”

His eyes sharpened and a slow, half-smug, half-angry smile pulled at his mouth.

“Don’t tell me the perfect college couple actually broke up.” He teased or was it mocking?

I refused to give him the satisfaction so I picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and read aloud.

“ACL tear. The recovery timeline is six to nine weeks if you follow the protocol.”

Chase watched me like a predator assessing prey. The lazy act was gone. This was the Chase Hudson from college…the one who could dismantle an opponent with a single glance.

“Protocol?” He scoffed. “I don’t need a nurse holding my hand through stretches. I need to get back on the ice. The Wolves need me.”

“Your ACL needs you to follow the protocol.

It's either you listen to me or kiss your career goodbye.” I pointed out.

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, then winced. For a split second something vulnerable flickered in his eyes before defiance slammed back into place.

“You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that. The last three were either too intimidated or too busy trying to get into my pants to actually do their jobs.”

“I’m not interested in your pants, Mr. Hudson. I’m interested in your recovery. That’s my job.” I said, rolling my eyes.

He was still that insufferable bastard from college.

Chase leaned back against the pillows, a slow and dangerous smile spreading across his face.

“We’ll see about that, Marion.”

The way he said my name sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. It wasn’t like Finn said it. It wasn’t like Mabel said it. There was an edge to it…almost intimate. I couldn’t tell if he was challenging me or flirting. Either way, the sinking feeling in my stomach told me the next months were going to be far more complicated than I’d bargained for.

“You can leave now,” he said, already sounding bored, his gaze shifting away. “Your shift starts tomorrow.”

I turned toward the door but his voice stopped me just before I reached it.

“Pass my congratulations to your boyfriend. I hear he’s one of us now.”

*******

The following morning, I stood at the door holding a small bouquet of flowers, debating whether to knock or just wait until a nurse wheeled him out. In the end I chose to face him.

Today was my first official day and I was going to be professional and do my job.

I knocked once and pushed the door open, a smile already in place.

“Good morning, Mr. Hudson. Are you excited to be discharged?”

Chase looked up from his phone. His eyes moved from my face to the flowers in my hands and one eyebrow slowly lifted.

“Someone might think you’re visiting your lover.”

Of course he would start there.

“A small gesture to start our journey on a good note,” I answered, setting the bouquet on the side table.

“You’re not that good an actress, Marion. What are you so nervous about?” Chase taunted.

I hated how easily he read me. I was indeed nervous but I didn't have to acknowledge that In front of him.

I ignored the question and kept my voice even.

“The car is waiting. Are you ready?” I asked instead.

Chase didn’t answer. He pushed himself up and reached for the walker. I caught the brief wince before he schooled his expressions.

“If I fall, don’t even think about catching me.” He said.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I lied, holding the door open.

“Good. Because if you try, I might just drag you down with me.” He replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The contract had made one thing very clear: I was required to stay at his residence until he was cleared to return to the ice.

My attempts to push back on the live-in arrangement had shut it down immediately.

That was like breaching the contract which came with a penalty I couldn’t pay.

Mabel’s advice had been simple…As his nurse, you can't watch him from the other side of the city.

After helping him into the car, we set off. Chase stayed quiet the entire ride. I was grateful for that.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of a massive modern mansion. I’d looked him up the night before…purely for professional reasons. That's what I told myself.

This was his private residence.

Chase glanced at me once the engine cut off.

“You can still change your mind. No one will charge you for breach of contract.” He offered.

He was testing me…again.

“You need my services and I need the money. Why would I change my mind?” I fired back, unbuckled and stepped out.

His assistant appeared almost immediately, pushing a wheelchair. Chase’s expression twisted the second he saw it.

“I’m injured, not crippled. Get that thing out of my sight.” He snarled, looking every bit annoyed.

The assistant looked between the two of us, clearly unsure whose order to follow.

“Take it away,” I said. “He can manage a few steps.”

Once the wheelchair disappeared, I turned back to Chase.

“I assume you don’t need my help then?” I asked with raised brows.

“I’m a patient with a torn ACL,” He muttered, suddenly looking almost pitiful.

“A patient who isn’t crippled and doesn’t need a wheelchair,” I threw his own words back at him.

Chase tried to make puppy eyes at me.

I almost laughed watching the captain of the North Wolves attempt to look cute.

I sighed, stepped closer and slid an arm around his waist for support. His hand settled on my shoulder without hesitation.

“A hungry person doesn’t get to be a picky eater,” I reminded him.

He could barely walk on his own yet he’d refused the wheelchair so blatantly.

“If other people see me in that thing, I’ll never hear the end of it,” he whined.

I almost scoffed. What's with his obsession with what others said about him?

I shook my head and helped him walk toward the entrance.

I didn't forget to roll my eyes though.

Men and their egos. They’d rather suffer than look weak. Who was I to judge?

We hadn’t taken ten steps when hurried footsteps sounded behind us followed by a furious female voice.

“Get your filthy hands off my man!”