Page 10 of Gamechanger

I tugged at my lapel. "It's not a standard outfit for watching a hockey game." My size already made me stand out, and I knew the suit drew even more attention.

"There's nothing wrong with making a memorable splash." I watched as he gazed at me a little longer than necessary. "It's a good look. With glasses, you'd make a perfect Clark Kent."

"Does that make you Lois Lane?" The words were out before I could stop them. I froze, mortified, but Finn just laughed.

"I suppose that might depend." He batted his eyes. "Will I get rescued a lot by Clark's alter ego?"

Before I could devise a clever response, Coach Fraser blew his whistle, calling the players back to practice. Finn looked over his shoulder and then back at me.

"I gotta go, but hey, thanks for stopping by. I appreciate it. Always great to see a friendly face."

"Even one that's attached to a walking fashion faux pas?" I joked, tugging at the hem of my jacket.

"Especially that one. They'd be dumb not to give you the job. I'm looking forward to seeing more of you around here."

As he skated away, my heart did a little dance in my chest. The smell of ice and sweat, the sound of sticks slapping pucks, and the lingering warmth of Finn's smile all blended together, creating a moment I knew I'd remember for a long time.

I left the arena with a spring in my step and my mind buzzing with possibilities for my future. I was staring at a new job,new connections, and maybe… something more. Whatever came next, I was ready for it. Bring it on, Portland. Moose Moretti is here to play.

Chapter four

Finn

The Oregon rain didn't know it was a holiday and plagued Portland all Thanksgiving day. It finally started to let up as I jogged, trying to dodge raindrops, on the way to the Golden Dragon restaurant. Multi-colored neon dragons hung over the sidewalk, the bright colors reflecting off the wet concrete below. Since it was the holiday, the streets in my neighborhood were eerily quiet. Most had chosen to stay home, tucked away in a post-celebration food coma with their families.

Not me, though. I'd chosen a different path.

Pausing at the restaurant's entrance, I took a deep breath. I'd had a brief phone call with my parents earlier, which was enough to send a wave of homesickness crashing over me. I could almostsmell Mom's pumpkin pie through the phone and imagined listening to Dad yelling at the TV while the Vikings left the field in defeat again.

That was 1,700 miles away in a little town in Minnesota. In Portland, I had dim sum, and Moose was waiting to share a unique Thanksgiving dinner with me.

As I pushed the door open, a wave of warm air enveloped me, rich with the aromas of lemongrass, ginger, and soy sauce. The hostess, a petite woman with a kind smile, approached me as I removed my coat.

"Table for one?" she asked, already reaching for a menu.

"No, I'm meeting someone," I said, scanning the room. "He might already be—"

"Finn! Over here!"

Moose's deep voice rumbled across the dining room. A few other diners turned their heads. He waved from a red vinyl booth in the far corner, and his broad frame appeared slightly too big for the space.

As I found a path between the tables, dodging a server with a cart piled high with bamboo steamers, some of the tension in my shoulders faded. It wasn't the Thanksgiving I'd experienced every other year in my life, but with Moose, I knew it wouldn't be a bad one.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Rookie," he greeted me as I approached, raising his cup of steaming Chinese tea. Another of those unexpected flutters I experienced around Moose tickled my stomach.

"Hey, Moose, great to see you." I slid into the booth across from him, and the red vinyl squeaked beneath me—a hint of jasmine wafted under my nose. I wasn't sure whether it was the tea or the candle burning in the center of our table. "Thanks… you know, for arranging this."

He waved a hand. "Are you kidding? I'm happy I'm not alone this year. Good to see I'm not the only Portland transplant without plans today."

A server approached with a small electronic tablet. "May I take your order?"

Moose jumped on the question. "I'm gonna make this easy. We're going all out for the holiday. Give us one plate of everything on your dim sum menu." He nodded toward me. "Anything else you want?"

I laughed. "Did you remember there's only two of us?"

"Trust me. This is perfect. You haven't seen how I can eat."

About fifteen minutes later, dishes began to arrive at our table. The server set down bamboo steamers with a soft thud, wisps of fragrant steam escaping as he lifted the lids. Brandishing chopsticks, we immediately dove into the luscious food. Savory aromas of garlic, ginger, and soy sauce filled the space between us. The first dumpling I bit into burst with hot, flavorful broth, warming me from the inside out.

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