Page 38 of Match Penalty

"Yeah thanks, the new PT downstairs has been helping a lot."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Our previous PT, Keely, was great, but when Aisa retired and they moved to Texas, she made sure to train up a great replacement. Use that resource as much as you need," he says. "So, what are you doing up here?" Slade asks, as he stops at my desk while Penelope seems to still be finishing up an email.

"I'm helping Cammy with the auction. I have an idea I want to show her."

Penelope's ears must be trained to the word "auction" because she perks up from her phone. "Oh, an idea for the auction? Well your last one was a huge success. I approve." She beams at JP and then at me. "Have fun."

"Are you ready to go?" Slade asks, offering his arm for her to grab onto.

"Yep, all set," she beams back and then turns to me. "You two have fun. I'm excited to see what you come back with."

An ulcer most likely.

I watch helplessly as Penelope and Slade leave, noting the way Slade winks at JP before they disappear down the hall. When did they become so chummy? I guess that happens with teammates.

JP holds up my latte and sandwich. "Shall we?"

I take it reluctantly, knowing I've been outmaneuvered. "Fine. But this counts as our date."

I want to say no, to push him away again, but the look in his eyes stops me. He’s trying. And for once, I don’t want to be the one holding all the walls in place.

"Of course," he agrees, but his smile says otherwise. "That’s what we agreed to."

The moment we get in the cab, JP gives the driver a destination. "Pike's Place, please."

It's been years since I've been there. My dad took me to all the tourists' sights when I first got here, and I loved it. But why is JP taking me there now… I have no clue.

JP chats easily with the driver the entire way over, a die-hard Hawkeyes fan who recognizes him immediately. I watch, surprised by how genuine JP is as he answers questions about the upcoming season and signs the driver's hat.

"My kid's gonna flip when he sees this," the driver says, grinning at the signature. "He's been playing goalie since he was five."

"What's his name?" JP asks.

"Connor."

JP pulls out his phone. "I’ll make a note to send home opener tickets to the box office for you."

Seeing JP like this with fans, it reminds me of why I've always thought there was a deeper side to him, past the cocky smile and reputation.

“I got it,” I jump in and offer, pushing JP’s hand down with his phone in it. “When I get back to the office, I’ll have two of JP’s home tickets waiting at will-call for you for the first home game.”

JP looks at me and smiles.

The cab pulls up to the market, and JP steps out first, turning to offer me his hand. I hesitate for a split second before taking it, trying to ignore the spark that shoots through me at his touch.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice soft.

I nod as he helps me out of the cab.

The market bustles around us, filled with the familiar sounds and smells that always make me feel at home. Vendors call out their wares, fish fly through the air at the famous fish market, and tourists snap photos of everything in sight.

"This way," JP says, his hand finding the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd. The touch is light, barely there, but it burns through my jacket.

We stop at a small booth tucked away from the main thoroughfare. An older man sits surrounded by intricately carved wooden figures with gorgeous detailing—everything from tiny animals to larger pieces that seem like they belong in an art gallery.

"Hey, Pete," JP calls out.

The man looks up, and then I realize exactly who it is. It’s Pete, the head of maintenance and the Zamboni driver.

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