Page 14 of Tough Score

I take her by surprise as she quickly looks back in front of us to see that she narrowly missed the inebriated bar patron whose attention was on the table full of his friends instead of the gorgeous redhead he just about ran into.

“Whoa, thanks for that,” she says, but doesn’t glance back this time as she keeps walking. This time she’s a little more aware of our surroundings. “So I’m guessing there’s a story behind how Crusty Ol’ Oakley got his name.”

“There is,” I tell her, though it’s not technically my story since I wasn’t here when it all started. “When the guys first started coming to Oakley’s years ago, before even I had joined the team, Oakley was a little crotchety with the players showing up after the game and packing his small sports bar with a rowdy crowd of Hawkeyes fans. He’s warmed up since and I promise, his nickname is a term of endearment. We love the guy—he treats us all like family.”

I can’t see her face, but her ponytail nods as we get closer to the front door.

“Now I want to hear about you. Why Seattle?”

We make it to the door and she stops and faces me, pulling her jacket from under her arm to put it on before we head out into the rain.

"Here, let me help you with your jacket,” I say, hoping to buy us more time for her to give me some backstory on what she’s doing here.

"That would be great, thanks," she says, handing me the thin cotton sweater material.

It’s not like the waterproof windbreakers that most people in the bar all brought with them to keep dry tonight.

I pull it open for her while she slips one hand at a time through the arm holes. I lift the jacket up over her shoulders and then I release the material, letting her take it from there as she begins to zip it up.

“I moved out here to spend more time with my uncle. And I’ve been looking for a job as a sports Physical Therapist.”

“You’re a doctor?” I ask, my voice a little higher pitched than I intended.

She smiles, “Are you surprised?”

I hate to admit that I am.

Not because she’s a woman. There are a lot of female PTs, and I’ve had a number of them work with me on my sports injuries over the years. It’s just that Keely looks too young to have gone to school for long enough to be a PT. She doesn’t seem older than twenty-three to twenty-four, but I guess she could be close to her thirties.

The older I get, the worse I am at guessing ages, it seems.

“No… not exactly, I just…”

Before I can finish my thought, a small group pushes through the bar’s entrance, allowing for a gust of cold, wet air to swirl past us. A shiver races through Keely’s body.

"Are you going to be warm enough? I can find a bigger coat for you if you need it. You’re going to end up waterlogged by the time we make it to the car wearing this," I say, about ready to snag a windbreaker off any one of my teammates for her.

I’d give her mine, but it’s just a hoodie that I had stuffed in my locker, which I changed into after we finished with the media.

None of the players on the team want to hit the bar in a suit and tie, so we all bring a change of clothes to go out after. I must have left my jacket back at my apartment earlier today.

My hoodie isn't waterproof either, though it’s thicker than her jacket, and it would at least provide her with another layer to keep her warm. The only drawback is that I can’t remember the last time I washed it.

A week ago?

Two weeks ago?

I’m not completely sure.

The best case: It smells like my deodorant and a mild tinge of sweat.

The worst case: It smells like month-old used gym socks left in a gym bag for far too long.

She glances down at her jacket and then back to me. Her green eyes are the color of jade and framed by thick black lashes; they sparkle up at me. It’s the first time I notice the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

"Oh…No," she says, waving her hand up to dislodge any concerns that she needs more layers. "I'm fine. It’s not that far of a walk to my car. I found a spot right across the street. Besides, if I’m going to be living in Seattle, I'd better get used to the rain.”

She's got a point.

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