Across the Line (In The Zone) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the place she really longed to be in was the kitchen.
    A white Camry pulled into the spot next to hers and Calder got out. He looked damn good in shorts and a T-shirt.
    She walked over to his car and he kissed her cheek. “Hi,” he said.
    He smelled good. His thick dark hair was damp. Up close, she realized again how tall he was. With skates, he’d be a giant. He had muscular legs, which made sense considering what he did for a living, but he had a black neoprene thing around his right knee.
    “What happened to your leg?”
    “I tore a ligament.”
    “MCL? ACL? I was in med school for a little while before I opened Cups,” she explained when he looked surprised.
    “ACL. Tore it last November, right before Thanksgiving.”
    “Are you okay to do this hike? It’s a pretty easy hike, but with a bum knee...”
    “Yeah. I’m good. As long as we don’t run, I’ll be good.”
    He pulled some water bottles out of the car and she put them in her backpack.
    “I can get that,” he said, gesturing toward the backpack.
    She shook her head and started out. “I can handle it.”
    * * *
    Calder followed her up the trail. It was a gorgeous day with perfect weather. He spent so much time inside arenas and ice rinks—buildings with no windows—that he really enjoyed the great outdoors. The air smelled wonderfully clean and the trail’s hard-packed dirt was easy to manage. Flanking the trail were numerous oak, beech, birch and maple trees and above them was a bright, cloudless sky.
    “So, tell me about that knee,” she said.
    “Not much to tell. Guy collided with me and it bent in a way it wasn’t designed to bend. I had surgery, was in rehab, and that’s about it.”
    “And how many games did you miss?”
    “Seventy-one.”
    “Wow. That’s a lot. That must have been hard.”
    “It sucked. I can’t even describe how frustrating it is to be part of the team but unable to contribute. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things. Training camp’s in September, but that seems so far away. At the same time, I need to get back in shape. If I don’t lose some weight by the time camp starts, my name is mud. Or Lard Ass. Or something similar.”
    Becca seemed shocked. “They’ll call you Lard Ass to your face? Your own teammates?”
    Calder nodded.
    During his rookie year in the NHL, Robin Draper had come back from the summer with some extra poundage. That would have been fine if it had been lean muscle, but it hadn’t. Because Draper was a six-year veteran with thirty-six goals and twenty-eight assists the previous season, Calder had basically been in awe of him. But the trainers and other players hadn’t been as understanding. In addition to being assigned a shitload of extra cardio, Draper had been the butt of numerous pranks that year, even after he’d dropped the weight. So there was no fucking way Calder was going to be this season’s Draper.
    “Wow.” She shook her head. “I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. You started name-calling when you were in the fifth grade.”
    He chuckled. “Aw. Come on, it’s all in fun. It’s how we men show our love to each other.” He saw a stick on the ground and picked it up. It would help alleviate the pressure on his knee.
    “Well, I’m glad I’m not a man.”
    “I am too,” he muttered as he watched her pert little ass, again wishing he could get his hands on it. Just one squeeze. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
    At last they were rewarded by the spectacular Green Veil Falls. Water fell down a mossy wall of stone on its way downstream. Although it was far from quiet, a sense of calm still permeated the air.
    They uncapped water bottles and hydrated as they admired the view. The weather had warmed up and Calder had a good sweat going. The hair on the nape of Becca’s neck was damp. He wanted to lick her there.
    He wanted to lick her in a lot of places.
    He calculated the odds of that happening this trip and wasn’t too encouraged.
    “I’m