Blizzard Forbidden: Off Limits (Book 1)

Riley POV I smoothed down the front of my navy blue Blizzard polo shirt for what felt like the hundredth time as I stood outside my dad’s office. My hands were clammy. This was it. My first official day as the new physical therapist for the Denver Blizzard. Dream job didn’t even cover it. I’d worked my ass off through college and two years with a smaller college team just to get here. Now I was actually standing in the arena hallway, heart hammering like I was about to step onto the ice myself. The door opened before I could knock. “Riley,” Dad said, his voice gruff but warm. He pulled me into a quick hug, the kind that still made me feel like I was ten years old. “Come on in. Close the door.” I stepped inside, taking in the familiar mess—whiteboard covered in plays, stacks of game tapes, and that old photo of us on the wall from when I was a kid at one of his practices. He sat behind his desk and motioned for me to take the chair across from him. “You nervous?” he asked, leaning back. “A little,” I admitted with a small laugh. “Mostly excited. This is huge for me, Dad.” He nodded, but his face got serious real fast. That was Coach Bennett for you. Warm one second, all business the next. “Listen to me, kiddo. I’m proud as hell you’re here. You earned this spot. But we need to get something straight right now.” He pointed a finger at me. “Players are off-limits. You hear me? Every single one of them.” I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Dad, I know. You’ve told me this like twenty times since I got the offer.” “Twenty isn’t enough.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Especially Jax Callahan. That man is trouble. Best defenseman in the league when his head’s on straight, but he’s got walls higher than this arena. And the way the girls chase him… I don’t want you anywhere near that circus. You’re here to do your job. Rehab, recovery, keep these boys playing. That’s it. No flirting. No late-night talks. Nothing.” “Dad,” I groaned, dragging the word out. “I’m twenty-five, not fifteen. I can handle myself.” “I know you can. But I also know what this environment is like. These guys are intense. They live fast, play hard, and half of them don’t know how to keep things simple.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Especially Callahan. Stay away from him, Riley. Promise me.” I sighed. “Fine. I promise. Players are off-limits. Message received loud and clear.” He studied me for a long moment, then nodded like he was satisfied. “Good. Now go get settled in the training room. They’ve got you set up nice. First session is with one of the guys later this afternoon. You’ll do great.” I stood up and gave him another quick hug. “Thanks, Coach.” He chuckled at the nickname. “Get out of here before I change my mind and send you back to college ball.” I left his office with a smile, but my stomach was still doing flips as I walked down the long hallway toward the training facilities. The arena smelled like ice and sweat and that faint rubbery scent from the mats. It felt alive. I could hear the distant sounds of pucks hitting boards and guys shouting during practice. This was really happening. The training room was bigger than I expected—bright lights, multiple tables, resistance bands hanging neatly, and shelves full of equipment. I set my bag down on the desk in the corner and started organizing my notes from the player files I’d reviewed last night. Most of the guys had minor stuff, but one name kept jumping out. Jax Callahan. Shoulder injury. Stubborn as hell about recovery. I was halfway through double-checking my notes when the door swung open hard. A very tall, very sweaty, very shirtless man walked straight into me. “s**t—” I stumbled back, my clipboard flying out of my hands. Strong hands grabbed my arms to steady me. The contact sent a jolt through my whole body. “Whoa, easy there,” a deep voice said. I looked up. Way up. Oh. My. God. It was him. Jax Callahan stood inches away from me, breathing hard like he’d just come off the ice. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. Broad shoulders, tattoos covering both arms and part of his chest, abs that looked carved from stone. He was still holding his hockey stick in one hand, gloves half off. Those intense brown eyes locked onto mine, and for a second I forgot how to speak. My dad’s warning from barely twenty minutes ago hit me like a slap. He smirked. “You must be the new PT. Coach’s daughter, right?” I stepped back quickly, trying to ignore how warm and strong his hands had felt. “Yeah. Riley Bennett. Sorry about that...I wasn’t watching where I was going.” “Neither was I, apparently.” He bent down and picked up my clipboard, glancing at the top page before handing it back. His fingers brushed mine. “You got my name on there already? Should I be flattered or worried?” I forced a nervous laugh, my mind still spinning. This is the guy Dad specifically warned me about. The one with the reputation. The one I’m supposed to stay far away from. “Just doing my job. Your shoulder’s been giving you trouble, from what I read.” He rolled the injured shoulder slowly, wincing a little. “It’s fine. Hurts like a b***h sometimes, but I’m playing through it.” “That’s… not really how this works,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “If you keep pushing it without proper rehab, you could make it worse.” Jax leaned his stick against the wall and crossed his arms, studying me with that cocky smirk still in place. “You sound just like your old man. You gonna lecture me too, princess?” “Princess?” I repeated, folding my arms to match him. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got on day one?” He chuckled, low and rough. “You got fire. I like that. Most new staff members kiss my ass the first week.” “I’m not most staff members,” I shot back. “I’m here to help you get back to full strength. Not stroke your ego.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. He took a step closer, and suddenly the big training room felt way too small. “Stroke my ego, huh? Interesting choice of words, Riley.” Heat rushed to my cheeks. Damn it. I could already tell this man was going to be a problem. “Callahan,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let’s keep this professional. When’s your next available slot for a proper assessment?” He tilted his head, still watching me like I was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day. “You always this serious, or is it just because Daddy warned you about me?” My mouth fell open. “He didn’t—” Jax laughed outright this time. “Relax. I’m messing with you. Mostly.” He grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped the sweat off his neck. “I’ve got time right now if you want to start poking at this shoulder. Or are you scared you might like what you feel?” I stared at him, equal parts annoyed and… something else I didn’t want to name. The way his muscles moved under the tattoos when he stretched his arms was ridiculous. Completely unfair. “Sit down,” I said, pointing at the therapy table. “Let’s see how bad it really is.” He hopped up on the table, legs dangling, and gave me a lazy grin. “Yes, ma’am.” As I stepped closer to examine his shoulder, I could feel the heat coming off his skin. He smelled like ice and cedar and pure masculine sweat. My dad’s warning rang loud in my head. Especially Jax Callahan. I placed my hands carefully on his shoulder, trying to stay clinical. But the second my fingers pressed into the tight muscle, Jax let out a low sound that sent electricity straight down my spine. “Easy,” he murmured, voice dropping. “You got magic hands or something?” I swallowed hard. “Just doing my assessment.” He turned his head slightly, those dark eyes catching mine again. The tension in the room thickened so fast I could barely breathe. “Riley Bennett,” he said slowly, like he was tasting my name. “I have a feeling you’re gonna be trouble.” I pulled my hands back, heart racing. God help me. Because the worst part? I was already thinking the exact same thing about him.