Page 16 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss

Kenzie does not look happy about being my chaperone home. Turns out getting nailed in the head might be a concussion. I would’ve been fine if I hadn’t collapsed by the hoses to clean us off.

“Thanks for taking me home,” I say, trying to get the conversation started on the hour-drive back to the city.

“I don’t see why they couldn’t have one of the guys drive you home,” Kenzie says, pressing on the gas to get around one of the slower cars in our lane.

“Well, I don’t drive with just anyone. Jack and Spencer are constantly moving the wheel, which makes me carsick. Miles is still all lovey-dovey with Dani, and I don’t need that kind of backseat entertainment. Owen is about the only one I trust, but since he’s not here, you’re the best option.”

Kenzie shakes her head. “I thinkbestoption is overstating things. Driving in Boston is no picnic, but I also don’t want to be on the road forever. Are you getting carsick?” she asks, leaning over for a few seconds. When she looks back at the road, she has to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a car.

Waving my hands in the air, I say, “I’ll be fine, as long as you pay attention to the road.” I want to close my eyes, but I’m worried I won’t be able to warn her if she gets distracted. I’m supposed to wait a while after the hit before I sleep just to make sure there’s no brain injury.

The whole group had been staring at me and Kenzie when we left the medical tent with the refuel-and-keep-watch diagnosis. Another strike against waking up early. I’d burned through my breakfast calories on the race course and the low blood sugar knocked me out. The medic was trying to keep from laughing at the fact a pro athlete got hit in the head on a mud race course. I’ll probably have to alert Dave about it in case anyone contacts him for more information.The media spreads rumors like a piñata at a kid’s birthday party.

“Kenzie has to drive you home,” Jack had said. There had been some discussion and some arguing from Kenzie, but when faced with the idea of eating fourteen ice cream cones in one sitting, an hour back to the city was the better choice.

I retrace the recent conversation back and say, “I think this is the easiest punishment Jack has ever given out after winning a bet.”

She frowns. “Are you sure he’s not going to come back later and say ‘psych!’ and give us something else to do?”

I shake my head. “No, consequences have to be doled out within a couple hours of knowing who won.”

Kenzie turns to look at me. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Nothing major. Spencer took almost two days to decide on a punishment for Miles. Because of that, Miles had to be in a meeting and couldn’t participate in some flash mob Spencer had organized.”

“Flash mob? Like randomly dancing as if they were in a musical?” Kenzie’s amazement makes me laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what it looked like. I had an away game.”

“So, our only punishment was to drive home together,” Kenzie says. “That’s not fishy at all.”

I adjust so I can look at her without turning my head. My neck is a little sore already, probably from the impact of getting hit.

Kenzie makes defensive driving look like a casual day of out. The sun out the window is shining on her profile and my view could be a magazine cover. Her lips are soft and relaxed, a change from the tight frown I’ve seen so many times from her. The long brown hair hangs down near her shoulders. She’d practically taken a shower, with clothes on, pulling out shampoo and conditioner to wash after the race.

There’s a long moment of silence between us when she asks, “So, you’re working with the matchmaking company, huh?”

I purse my lips, wanting to talk about anything else. “My agent set it up.”

“Why do it if you’re so reluctant?” she asks, glancing over at me for a split second.

“That’s a great question,” I say, trying to come up with a good answer. “It would be nice to find someone and settle down. Not just someone interested in the fame of being my girlfriend and then wife.”

Kenzie looks like she’s seen a ghost as the color drains from her face. “Do you think it will work?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. My teammate used Love, Austen and his life is close to storybook perfect.”

She nods and focuses on the road. “What’s on your list of qualifications for this future girlfriend of yours?” Her voice shakes a bit on those last few words, and I have to lean over to make sure she doesn’t faint and then send us careening into oncoming traffic.

“Are you all right? Did you swallow too much mud?”

That gets a laugh out of her. “There might’ve been some accidental mud swallowing. But I’m totally fine.”

We settle back in. “I don’t really have a list of qualifications. I always thought it would all click once I met someone. That’s how my parents describe it. They met and my dad was practically scrambling to get my mom’s phone number.”

I turn to study her again. “What’s on your list?”

She gives me a look like I’ve gone crazy. “Who says I have a list?”

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