I'm halfway through the first day of my physical therapy residency and it's going pretty well. Although Dr. Jeffries assigned the others to their cases before me, and I'm uneasy about that.

We stop at the door of the next room. He lifts the chart with a smile. "Ahhh, saved the best for last."

Is he talking about me or the patient? Guess I'm happy either way.

"He's a forward on the Hurricanes, with a grade two adductor strain. It's healing nicely so I'm confident he'll be back on skates soon. We get a lot hockey players here with this kind of injury. Shoulder stuff too. Anyway, I don't think I have to remind you about how to behave with a sports star. No 'fan-girling' as the kids say."

I nod. "Don't worry about me. I'm only interested in sports therapy, not athletes. I mean whenever I watch a game, it's just moving muscles to me. I like guessing who'll have the next torn ACL or ruptured Achilles based on their movements."

"Perfect!" He chuckles and knocks on the door.

The answering voice is deep. "Come in."

Jeffries turns the knob. "Dr. Ernst, let me introduce..."

"Cameron Neve?" I blurt out, feeling the color leach from my face.

Both men look at me and the blood surges back to my cheeks. Judging by the heat of them, they're probably neon.

"I thought you didn't follow athletes?" Jeffries squints.

If only I could run out of the room right now rather than explain anything.

"I... I don't. We know each other."

Cameron's eyes grow wide. "We do?"

My mouth tastes of the stale coffee that wants to reemerge from my stomach onto the floor like a Jackson Pollock painting.

I pull out some mints and hold it open to the men. Jeffries shakes no. Cameron tilts his head.

"We um... we actually went to high school together. Go Falcons."

I wrestle the mints back into my pocket and speak more to fill the silence.

"Your Dad always let you out on Piedmont to avoid the long drop-off line. My Mom did too. We walked the same three blocks together for four years."

He furrows his brow. "Together? But I've never seen you before in my life!"

That sentence feels like a knife in my heart.

"Well not exactly together. I meant at the same time. You always walked on the right side of the street and I was always on the left."

Cameron crosses his arms. "That's funny. I'm sorry I don't remember..."

Waving my hand in hopes of making the awkwardness magically disappear, I say, "It's fine. It was a big school and I spent a lot of time in the library."

Nothing like pouring salt in your own wounds.

Cameron shifts on the table. The white paper sounds like thunder and I feel a storm of tears threatening to fall.

My superior clears his throat. "Given the circumstances, Mr. Neve if you'd like a different therapist..."

He shakes his head. "No. It'll be nice to catch up with..."

Jeffries and I speak simultaneously.

"Dr. Ernst." - "Bridget."

Jeffries frowns. "Then I'll just step out to check on the others, Doctor Ernst."

He closes the door firmly.

A reminder to conduct myself professionally despite the personal history.

I enter my password and look at the computer. They're following a fairly standard protocol and the first part is soft tissue movement.

Oh God! I'm about to have my hands all over Cameron Neve. My inner teenager is cartwheeling.

I look at my visibly sweaty palms.

No worries... I need to wash them anyway.

Cameron speaks to my back while I'm at the sink. "So aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

"Aren't you too young to be in professional hockey?"

"Nope. Plenty of guys are twenty-three in the League. Some even younger. But doctors... I thought you needed like a million years of school."

My hands are clean and dry so I turn to look at him again.

The man is more gorgeous than when I last saw him!

His stats on the computer said he's six feet, and two-hundred three pounds. Yet I'm still struck by how big he is when I'm beside him.

You've only been this close to him that one time, so it's not like you have much to compare against, but clearly he's put on twenty pounds of muscle in five years.

His hair is short and brown.

And looks so much better than the floppy, bleached style he wore senior year.

"Like I said... a lot of time in the library. AP classes let me start ahead of the game and then I took twenty credits most semesters. Anyway, a physical therapy program doesn't take quite as much time as other specialties."

I shrug. Cameron raises his eyebrows.

"Sounds impressive to me."

"Says the NHL star."

He shrugs.

"Lie down." The instruction comes out in a sultry whisper.

"Sure thing. I know how to take orders."

He smiles and I spy a new-to-me scar on his jawline. Thin, yet distinctly visible amongst his auburn stubble.

I adjust the table to the correct height and take his knee in my hand to gently butterfly his leg out.

"Let me know at any point if you're uncomfortable."

"I should say the same thing since I've never had such a pretty therapist work on a groin pull before..."

He bites his lip and it unleashes butterflies within me.

I brace his foot on my waist and step forward. Once his leg is at the correct angle, he pulls up his athletic shorts exposing the entire expanse of his inner thigh.

Here goes nothing...

When my hands make contact he hisses.

"Oh God I'm sorry! My hands are cold. First day jitters and all..."

"So I'm your first? Popping your doctor cherry are we?"

He winks and I'm ashamed to admit it raises my pulse a click.

"N... not exactly, j... just first time here."

Stuttering? So not sexy Bridget... Sexy? Focus on professionalism!

He puts his hands behind his head to look at me.

I snap. "Hands at your sides so you're not out of alignment."

"Bossy! I like it." He smirks.

I reach forward to put a hand on his stomach and gently push him down.

Rock hard abs. Not unexpected. Highly distracting.

"Seriously, I need you to relax so I can work on you."

"I like the sound of that." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"I thought you said you were good at following orders?"

"I can be... if motivated properly."

My hands are off his thigh and on my hips instead. "Getting back to your training isn't reward enough?"

He leans up on his elbows. "I can think of a better one... Have a drink with me tonight."

I step back so no part of his body is touching mine. His leg flops onto the table.

"Coffee?"

"I... I can't do that. No way! You're a patient... it's my first day! This was a mistake. I should have told Jeffries it was a conflict of interest... but I didn't want to look bad... but now I'll look even worse..."

Cameron leans forward and grabs my hand. "Bridget! Stop!"

I pull my hand from his and take another step back. He raises his hands in surrender.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was just flirting. It's what I do. I didn't mean anything by it."

Of course not. I'm such an overreacting moron.

"Still, I'll have Jeffries assign you a different therapist for the next time."

His shoulders slouch forward. "Please don't do that. I'll feel terrible if I mess things up for you."

He reclines back with a sigh. "Sometimes I get a little homesick. Carolina is great and I'm living my dream... but it's nice to hear a Minnesotan accent today."

"C'mon you hear this everyday... There's more than a few folks in the NHL with this exact same accent."

"Not exactly the same. Besides, don't you want to talk about the good-old-days? Like that awesome hot-dish they served on Wednesdays... Or the Ladies' Club's annual butter sculpture competition..."

"I did enjoy that hot-dish."

Probably why I was chubbier back then.

I step toward him. "Alright, but we're running out of time here, so let's get back to work.

His face lights up. "Oh don't worry Dr. Ernst, I intend to."