Page 14 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss

Timing it to where I by-pass all of them with ease, I think I’m in the clear until I hear "Ow," and then a splash.

I turn back to find Trey floating on the top of the water. Do I leave him to himself there?

I sigh, knowing that my awkward teenage crush won't let me do that and that he's already helped me out of a few sticky spots in this race.

Heading back to the muddy water, I jump in to drag Trey back to land. Even though I can’t see his beautiful blue eyes, his face is relaxed. What if this became a reverse Snow White story and kissing him would wake him up? I shake my head. I’ve been reading too much fantasy lately and it’s seeping into my thoughts.

Blood comes from a gash at the side of his eyebrow. I swipe at the muddy water trying to mix with the red. We’ll have to get this washed out before infection sets in.

How did he sustain a cut when it was a padded glove? I glance up to see that the glove has a hole in its padding and the metal bar hit him straight on.

Crap, what are the signs of a concussion again? I'm momentarily distracted by his handsome face and have to snap out of it. I should be helping him, not relishing in this fantasy.

There’s nothing around that I can press into the cut to stop the bleeding. Do I let it bleed and try to get him to the finish line and the medical tent? It takes several tries before I can rip off a section of my t-shirt but at least I get a long strip. Or what I thought was a long strip. When I try to put it around his noggin, it only reaches halfway.

I press the cloth into his wound and then stretch it down toward his neck, tying it tight there. Okay, hopefully that stops the bleeding.

Looking around, there are still dozens of people running through the obstacle, most of them not even noticing we're lying here.

Uh, this is not how I thought this morning would end.

Trey is several inches taller than me and has more bulk than even this weight-lifting gal can manage for a half-mile. But I can't just leave him here.

"Hey!" I call out, trying to get someone's attention. "Hey! Can you get the medical team?"

It's like I'm yelling at a glass wall because no one turns toward me.

A moan comes from Trey and his eyes flutter open. Panic sets in. Here I am on the ground, cradling his head in my lap. I barely know the guy except for what I've read in the tabloids and internet articles. And his stats sheet, and… yeah, a couple hockey camps together ten years ago.

He's the untouchable for me. Johnny is the prime example of my obvious missteps over the past year as he scampers by with his hand joined together with Miss Short Shorts. There was no PDA in our short relationship. What makes the difference there?

I refocus on Trey. His eyelids flutter again and he finally opens them.

"What happened?" Trey says in a low groan.

I look down at those baby blue eyes, standing out even more with the rich brown of his hair. "You hit your head." The words came out all rushed and garbled.

He sits and presses a hand to his head. The white t-shirt has a large red spot on it now.

"What happened to your shirt?" Trey asks, blinking several times as if just waking up from a nap. I guess that's technically what it was, his momentary bout with unconsciousness.

I glance down at what is now a crop top of the race t-shirt.

"Just trying to keep up with the trends, Trey. It’s not the cleanest thing, so we need to get you to the medical team and wash out your cut. The last thing I need is you getting a big infection. Are you okay to stand?"

He nods. On instinct, I hold out my hand and he takes it. I have to widen my stance to keep from falling on top of him but we manage to get to a standing position. Once he lets go of my hand, the tingles and awareness that he just touched me make my brain go into overdrive.

I pretend to be dusting off my hands and glance around. "Finish line is that way."

Trey nods and starts walking alongside me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got slammed against the boards."

"Do you think it’s a concussion?" I ask, wondering if I need to do something to help him.

His walk is fine, not wobbly like I thought it would be.

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