Page 3 of Tough Score

So I lie.

"I waited until the end of the season and then resigned since I knew I would be moving to Seattle to spend more time with my uncle. I wanted to make sure that the college had ample time to find my replacement. Finding a good DPT who cares about the athletes and specializes in preventative care and sports injury isn't easy."

"Yes, I know," he smirks.

"Right. I'm sure you do." I let out a small snicker.

Sam Roberts has been in the sports world for longer than I've been alive. Of course he knows how difficult it is to find a PT that fits with the team. Every team's needs are different and every sports therapy program has a playbook of its own.

"Let me be upfront and honest with you, Keely. The position we're filling is to replace our very talented PT, who is leaving us permanently in a couple of months for maternity leave. The job wouldn't start right away, and though I think you have the most passion for your line of work of anyone I've interviewed so far, you also have the least amount of years of experience and haven't worked on professional athletes like all of the other candidates."

I lower my head, attempting to hide my disappointment, but I knew this would be the result.

"I understand completely, and I'm extremely grateful that you gave me a chance to interview, sir."

"Sam," he corrects again. "And I haven't made my decision yet. I have a lot to consider, and since the position isn't open for a couple of months, I have some time to determine which applicant will suit our team best."

The sound of Cammy's voice comes over the phone's intercom.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Phil Carlton just called. He said that the contract came in, and he's heading over to legal's office."

Sam hits the intercom button to respond.

"Thanks for letting me know. Keely and I just finished up. I'll head there now."

He lets go of the intercom button and then stands—I stand next, trying to appear casual as I wipe the nervous sweat from my hands against my navy slacks before our goodbye handshake.

"It really is a pleasure to meet you. Your passion for this field is evident in the way you talk about it, and whoever inevitably hires you will be lucky to have you on their team, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you," I say, warmth blooming on my cheeks.

This is the first time I've ever blushed while being rejected, but receiving a compliment like that from a legend in the hockey world means a lot to me. The sincerity in Sam's eyes leads me to believe he means every word. Even if I'm doomed never to find a job out here in Seattle, hearing those words from Sam is reason enough for me to have made the trip.

Now I need to head back to the studio apartment and prepare for tomorrow night. The Hawkeyes will be heading to my uncle's bar after the game tomorrow, and I need to work on memorizing all fifty beers and hard ciders that my uncle has on tap.

I haven't had to cram like this since college but I'm ready for a new challenge. The people on the West Coast take their beer extremely seriously. God forbid someone asks me to recommend a good IPA and I suggest a lager or an ale. They'll hand me my ass and then laugh me out of the bar.

No, that can't happen.

On the way home, I'll have to stop for my no-fail study snack—hot popcorn with M&M's poured inside. I can almost taste the melted chocolate and crunch of the popcorn already.

Then, bring on the flashcards!

Chapter Two

The Next Day

Reeve

It's the last few seconds of the game.

The scoreboard is tied, and we're in overtime.

My eyes lock onto the left wing of the opposing team. He’s hauling ass straight for me with the puck in his possession.

He's leaning forward, skating full speed toward the goal, his eyes menacing and focused through his face mask.

This is the game-winning goal for them if I let this slide past my defenses—we both know it. There won't be time left on the scoreboard for retaliation by the Hawkeyes to get in a goal of our own.

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