Chapter 51: The Anatomy of Distraction
Leo
I let out a heavy groan, the sound echoing in the quiet suite, and walked over to my new desk.
I began flipping through the thick folders scanning past the basic stats of the rookies until a specific name caught my eye.
Miller Reid.
I pulled the file from the stack and started reading.
Miller Reid.
Age: 27 years old.
Position: Center.
Rank: True Alpha.
Known for high aggression on the ice and a history of volatile rut cycles.
The medical notes were intense and the descriptions of his physical stamina were off the charts, but his temperament during ruts was marked as "difficult to manage."
No wonder he is a walking whore, I thought and continued reading.
I was so absorbed in the data, tracing the lines of his past injuries and hormone levels, that I didn’t hear the door.
A sharp throat clearing resounded in the room and when I raised my head and turned towards the entrance, I nearly jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs, my eyes widened in genuine shock.
Standing right there and filling the doorway with his huge frame was Miller himself.
"Can I come in?" Miller asked, his deep voice filling the space and making the air feel suddenly much tighter.
I quickly smoothed my coat, trying to regain my composure after that undignified jump. "What do you want?" I snapped, keeping my tone sharp and professional. "It isn’t time for any player to show up here."
I stood my ground, looking him over with a cool, detached gaze. I wasn’t about to let him see that his sudden appearance had rattled me, so I kept my expression flat as if he were just an annoying interruption to my paperwork.
Miller smiled and just raised a hand, pointing toward his hairline. "This needs stitching, Doc," he said simply.
I followed his gesture and saw the gash. The cut on his forehead had torn and blood was starting to track down the side of his face, staining his temple.
I let out a heavy, audible sigh, making sure he knew exactly how much of an inconvenience this was. "Why do you have to open your wound again?" I muttered, but Miller just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
"Go on and lie down on the bed," I jerked my head toward the exam bed in the office. "Try not to bleed on the mattress."
"Yes, Doc," Miller obeyed without arguing. He walked over and sat back on the bed, his broad shoulders and height making the furniture look almost toy-sized.
I turned my back to him, rummaging through the medical cabinets to gather a suture kit, antiseptic, and local anesthetic. I made sure to take my time, clinking the metal tools together as I prepped the tray. Once I had everything, I walked back over and stood directly in front of him, leaning over as I prepared to clean the wound.
I leaned in, the scent of the antiseptic mixing with the heavy, musky scent of his cedarwood that was overwhelming and, at the same time, soothing.
As I began cleaning the gash on his forehead, I could feel his green eyes locked onto mine, tracking every move I made with an unnerving intensity.
"You know, for a doctor, you’re awfully small," Miller rumbled, his voice dropping into a playful tone. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as blood smeared his skin. "And actually pretty cute when you’re focused. Do all the young doctors look like dolls, or am I just lucky?"
My heart gave a traitorous, violent thud against my ribs. For a second, the steady rhythm of my breathing faltered, but I clamped down on the reaction instantly. I wasn’t some wide-eyed intern he could charm with a few cheap lines, or those who he lured to his bed with his sugar-coated tongue.
I tightened my grip on the forceps, keeping my gaze fixed on the wound, and spoke through gritted teeth. "If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to skip the anesthetic and stitch your mouth shut next," I threatened, pointing the forceps at him. "I’m here to fix your head, Miller, not listen to your delusions."
Instead of being intimidated, Miller let out a short, gravelly laugh. He didn’t look away; instead, he caught my eye and deliberately winked, his expression oozing a smug confidence that made me want to scream.
I let out a frustrated groan, leaning in even closer to get the angle right for the first stitch. Our faces were mere inches apart and I could feel the heat radiating off his body. For a heartbeat, the tension between us grew, and the fact that I was leaning so far over him didn’t help. My hands were braced near his shoulders so that it looked to anyone walking in like I was seconds away from crashing my lips into his.
As if my thoughts were being heard, the door to the room swung open with a loud click.
"Just checking in to see if you’re settling in okay, Leo, but it looks like you’ve already found a way to... occupy yourself," a familiar, amused voice rang out.
I froze and slowly turned my head to see Kayden leaning against the doorframe, a knowing, mischievous chuckle escaping him. He looked between my compromising position and Miller’s smug face, his eyebrows arching toward his hairline.
"Don’t let me interrupt the moment," Kayden teased, raising his hands in mock apology. "Carry on. I’ll just come back when the ’treatment’ is finished."
"Nothing is happening!" I shouted, practically scrambling backward to create space, my face heating up despite my best efforts. "It’s a medical procedure, Kayden! Get back here!"
But Kayden was already gone, his laughter echoing down the hallway as the door shut behind him.
I turned back to Miller, who hadn’t moved an inch, still reclining on the bed with that infuriatingly relaxed posture. He watched me struggle to regain my dignity, grinning as if enjoying what was happening.
"You heard him, Doc," Miller said, his voice sounding like a silky purr. "Something could have happened. You were awfully close."
More red flags from him.
"In your dreams, Miller," I snapped, my hands shaking slightly as I reached for the needle again. I glared at him with every ounce of professional spite I had left. "One more word and I’m ’accidentally’ poking you with this. Stay still!"