Page 17 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss

With a laugh, I say, “Didn’t you tell the guys earlier that women make all sorts of lists?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” she says, turning down off the main road. Houses line each side of the road. “Oh, wait, I need to take you home. Punch in your address on the phone.” She hands me her phone with the maps app out and I try to remember my new address.I’ve only owned it for a few weeks.

She turns the car around, heading back for the main road. The way she’s so focused on it makes me think she’s trying to avoid the conversation. The woman is adamant about not dating people, so maybe a change of subject would make her more comfortable.

“What do you do for work?” I ask, hoping that’s a safe topic.

“I’m a serial job hopper,” she says, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’m working to start an organizing business.”

“There is so much to unpack in that sentence,” I say, closing my eyes for a few seconds.

She must’ve seen me resting my eyes because she pushes my shoulder back and forth a few times. “Stay awake a bit longer,” she says.

“Explain your employment status,” I say, leaning forward to stay awake. Even with the air on full-blast, my eyelids are staging a rebellion.

“I haven’t found something I loved yet. So, I figured I’d go into business for myself.”

“What business?”

Kenzie pauses a moment and I wonder if she’s going to say anything. “It’s called The Tricky Organizer.”

My mind is a bit cloudy, but I nod. “So you organize stuff. Why is it tricky?”

She shakes her head and mumbles, “Maybe I should’ve gone with the other name.”

We stop in my driveway and Kenzie looks up at the house. “This is where you live?”

I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Yep. It’s not a mansion but I loved it the first time I walked through. It’s got plenty of space for a bachelor.”

I push the button to the garage and Kenzie parks the car.

“I didn’t expect your house to look like this,” she says, staring at the mounds of boxes next to the car.

“What did you expect it to be?” I ask, getting out. I’m ready to take a nap already. Has it been long enough yet?

“Either you crash with a bunch of ex-frat guys or in some house with an indoor ice rink.” She smiles at that, and I laugh, causing my head to hurt a bit.

I walk up to the door to the house and am curious why she’s following me. “I’ll be okay.”

She raises both hands. “The instructions were to make sure you got home safely. Take some ibuprofen and relax for today.” Taking a couple steps down, she turns and walks out of the garage.

“Do you have a ride home?” I ask, feeling bad. We’d been having a good conversation and I go and ruin it by pushing her away. It’s a reflexive habit now, after so many years of my mom coddling me.

Kenzie points to the road. “I’ll pull up a map of the bus schedule.”

“Take the car,” I say, nodding toward my vehicle. “We’ll arrange to get it later.”

Something about my words makes her pause. “I’m good. I’m supposed to go to an appointment for my new business.”

“Kenzie, just take the car. I doubt you’ll crash it.” Despite the one brake-slamming incident, I feel relatively safe with her driving my car.

She gives me a blank expression and then walks back over. “Okay, but I’ll bring it back tonight.”

“Whatever works for you,” I say. “Thanks again for getting me home safely. Driving with the guys would’ve been the worst.”

With a nod, she says, “No problem. Rest up. You still have to train so the Breeze don’t choke like last season.” The mischievous grin on her face makes me smile. Someone who knows about hockey.

“I’ll take that into consideration. Bye,” I say, waving as she closes the door and pulls out of the garage. I stand there for a few more moments, going back over the strangeness of the day. The most exciting part was peeling back a layer that makes up Kenzie.

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