Playing for the Hat Trick

My job? Rehab his knee. Don't fall back into bed with my brother's best friend.

Jason is my brother's best friend.

Also known as: completely off-limits, wildly inappropriate, and the reason I have trust issues with charming men who smirk for a living.

He's a hockey star with a busted knee and an ego to match. I'm a retired Olympian turned physical therapist with zero patience for cocky athletes-especially the ones I used to fantasize about in my twenties before he ghosted me with a wink and a margarita.

Now? He's injured. He needs help. And guess who got volun-told to fix him?

That's right. Me.

Trapped in close quarters. With him.

He's determined to make rehab feel like foreplay. I'm determined to survive our sessions without combusting-or committing murder. Either feels likely.

We've got rules: no flirting, no feelings, and absolutely no touching… unless it's medically necessary (and no, Jason, "measuring flexibility" doesn't count).

But the more time we spend together, the harder it gets to remember why I ever put him in the off-limits box.

He's my patient.

He's my past.

He's my brother's fucking best friend.

And if I'm not careful, he might just be my next mistake.