“Got another new guy for you next. Driver.”

Alec stopped by the desk at his Knoxville physiotherapy practice as his secretary, Rosie, flagged him down. “Oh yeah?”

He didn’t turn down a lot of work. He’d never liked the idea of contracting with one team, or even one league. Variety was interesting, and not putting all his eggs in one basket was smart.

A surprising number of athletes lived, worked, or played near Knoxville. He’d expected to have to move to Nashville, but business was brisk here. He’d been told a good physio was worth his weight in gold—a compliment he was willing to accept.

Of all the nut jobs he worked with, race car drivers were some of the worst. They were stubborn shits, used to the freedom to do things their own way.

On the other hand, they could be surprisingly compliant. They’d do the work he told him to, if he could gain their trust that it would lead to them getting behind the wheel a little faster. Not all sportspeople were like that.

Drivers wouldn’t hear a word of quitting. No matter how often they put their necks on the line, they were always eager to get back out and do it again. It made him shake his head sometimes, what they were willing to do for their sport. As far as Alec was concerned, life was too short even without hurling yourself around tracks at a couple hundred miles an hour.

Rosie hummed significantly. “Tyler Joseph.” When he shook his head, she sighed and added, “Crashed out in a spectacular ball of fire and glory last week?”

“Sounds painful.”

“Sounds like four sessions, minimum. The guy’s barely recovered from a borderline concussion. He’s been lying down for a week, and it sounds like he wants to jack the nearest car dealership just to get behind a wheel. His next race is next week. My unprofessional opinion says that’s not going to happen, from his description of his injuries.”

Alec raised his brow.

Rosie chuckled and clarified, “From what I interpreted of his description.”

They always underestimated their injuries and downplayed them. Throwing them behind the wheel too early was dangerous for everyone involved, but they were desperate to do it anyway.

Alec knew what this meant: convincing the guy to stay sidelined. An impossible task. “Ouch. Wish me luck.”

“Luck. He’s waiting in room three.” Rosie winked, inexplicably.

That usually meant the client was hot and maybe gay.

Oh, good. Another one.

Alec shook his head and walked to room three at a brisk stride.

Rosie clearly knew more than she was letting on, but he tried to stay professional. He didn’t proposition clients—and if they propositioned him, he never let anything happen at work. Still… he wasn’t really out.

And then he saw the man who was waiting for him in room three.

Oh, God. Not again.

He was the boy next door, but gorgeous. Knee-bucklingly gorgeous. With the slow, sincere smile that meant he knew he was gorgeous, but he wasn’t wrapped up in himself.

“Tyler?”

He was met with a blinding smile. Tyler had turned his charm on. “Alec Lands, right?”

“That’s me.” Alec shook his hand, unsurprised at the strength of his grip. He shut the door behind himself and moved for the tall-backed chair. “You’ve got yourself into a hell of a predicament. Tell me about it.”

“Oh, pretty bad crash, they say.” Tyler’s smile faded into a glower. “Been off the track for a week now. Only yesterday did they let me get off bed rest and walk around.”

“That’s rough,” Alec sympathized. “Let’s grab your medical file.”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as they make it out to be.” Tyler had that cocky attitude, too, like he was superhuman. But Alec spotted the way he sat, and the awkwardness of his leg and arm. Anyone surviving that kind of crash had to have known how damn lucky they were, even with today’s allegedly improved safety standards. No wonder he had the attitude.

“Mmhmm. Torn muscles, fractured ribs, swollen ankle, and an arm that—oh, that’s a hairline fracture.” Alec glanced from the computer to Tyler. “But let me guess: you wanna get behind the wheel next week.”

Tyler’s expression lit up. “Can I?”

“No.” Alec wasn’t beating around the bush. For all their faults, drivers were also used to hearing the honest truth instead of what they wanted to hear, and he had the sense Tyler was a straight-up guy.

Tyler took it well. He blew out a sigh, then shook his head. “Figures. Week after? I can’t miss more than a couple races in a row. Looks bad.”

“I know. We’re gonna test your strength today, and then I can give you an estimate. You might not like it,” Alec warned him.

“I might not listen,” Tyler corrected him and grinned. The way he was smiling was more than friendly. Was he hitting on him?

“You don’t listen, you stay out of the races for longer,” Alec told him flatly. “And your points suffer.”

That hit home. Tyler sucked in a breath, then nodded. “What do I have to do?”

Alec nodded at his table. “Hope those shorts are loose.”

“Looser than me after a couple beers,” Tyler promised, winking at him as he shifted from the chair to hop up on the table.

Alec’s cheeks flushed, and it was all he could do to stay professional. “Good. I wanna see your range of motion in both arms and legs. The ribs—I’m sure you know that’s a hell of an injury.”

“Yeah. Not a lot you can do for ribs,” Tyler agreed.

Somehow, one guy seemed to take up all the space in the room. It was hard to avoid being drawn to him. There was a magnetic charm about him—a certain way he held himself, like he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

Alec told himself again to calm the fuck down. It was going to be a long hour if he didn’t.

* * *

“Five more weeks? Not a fucking chance.”

Tyler had behaved himself pretty damn well during the examination. Alec had started to get his hopes up that he could ignore the sparks that flew between them any time he touched Tyler’s skin to move his arm this way or that.

“The work can’t begin for real until the swelling finishes going down,” Alec told Tyler, using the tone that meant he was not leaving room for debate. “It’s almost there, so I’ll see you again in two days. Then we start easy, make sure we don’t aggravate any of those injuries.”

“Easy is bullshit,” Tyler muttered.

“You wanna get better, you’re gonna have to follow orders.”

Tyler’s jaw firmed as he sat up slightly, then winced and let himself lie flat on his back again. Sitting up couldn’t have been easy in his state, so Alec put a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to stay flat.

“I’m not good at following orders,” Tyler told him. And then, it was back.

Alec had almost managed to forget the chemistry between them. The thin line between playful but professional and flirtatious was hard to judge.

It felt like every breath he took without kissing Tyler was a wasted opportunity. And Tyler’s lips were wet and plump. He kept licking them, especially when Alec touched him. It was distracting as fuck.

Alec didn’t need to touch Tyler again, though, so he resisted all instinct and didn’t. He tucked his hands in his pockets instead and shook his head. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Tyler propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze half-lidded. “How about the hard way? How hard is it?”

Alec drew a breath to give Tyler the usual speech about professional boundaries, but Tyler beat him there.

“I know, I know. You’re not gay.” Tyler rolled his eyes.

Alec blinked at him. “It’s… not that. I don’t sleep with former patients.” He mentally added, Anymore. Tyler didn’t need to know that. “It’s technically not ethical, but more importantly, it never ends well.”

“What about current patients?” Tyler gave him his best charming grin, and Alec laughed as he shook his head.

“Even worse.”

“Damn.” Tyler pouted. “I blew my chance the moment I met you?”

Alec eyed Tyler as he took a step back, and the air seemed to rush into the room again. He sat in the computer chair, the space giving his brain enough power to function again. “What painkillers did you say you’re on?”

Tyler groaned and swung his legs over the side of the table, kicking his feet like he’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “It’s not the drugs talking.”

“Mmhmm.” Alec winked. “I don’t know that.”

Tyler relented and shook his head. “Fine,” he said, sliding his feet back into his sandals. “But it’s a wasted opportunity, let me tell you. How many gay guys do you treat?”

Alec’s lips twitched into a smile. “A lot. Way more than you’d expect. They just don’t want the media to know.”

Tyler’s face clouded over, and he was suddenly very busy sorting out simple Velcro straps on his sandals. “Mmm.”

“So, two days’ time. Rosie will arrange the time with you, so stop by the desk on your way out.”

Tyler nodded, straightening up again. He offered his hand to shake and Alec took it, only to find his hand swept up. Tyler kissed the back of his hand playfully. “Charmed.”

Alec laughed and pulled his hand away. This guy was gonna be way more than a handful. “Go on, scram.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler winked and saluted with a finger, then sauntered out of the examination room.

Alec had to take a few deep breaths when the door closed behind him. He had the four o’clock patient to see, which meant storing away the memory of warm, soft lips against the back of his hand.

Putting it somewhere he could access it later, when he took a shower after work.

Yeah. That was going to be an awesome shower.