Page 33 of Matched with Her Athlete Boss

That’s what the look is. Unadulterated heartbreak from a blindsided break up. “I can’t believe she moved on while you were gone for a month. How long were the two of you together?”

“Three years this November. We might need to have some more guys’ nights out, maybe venture into some clubs when all the anniversaries crop up.”

I slap him on the back. “I’m here for you man. As much as possible. Maybe we can have some daytime drinks when we’re in season.”

Owen laughs and nods. “I’d say, if you haven’t made up your mind, go for the docuseries thing. If it works out, I might even sign up.” We laugh and the rest of the group joins in.

“Sign up for what?” Spencer asks.

“For the matchmaking program,” Owen says. That makes everyone question what’s going on and he gives them a brief explanation that he’s the newest single guy on the market.

Jack waves his finger back and forth and says, “Yes, please sign up. There won’t be a lady in Boston who will look at me and Spence with you available.”

Owen shakes his head, laughing at the comment. “I doubt that. Most women think a male nurse is weird and getting past that takes a while.” He glances down at his watch and says, “I better get going. I’m on the night shift tonight in the ER.”

He waves goodbye and heads down the sidewalk to the train.

“I never thought I’d see the day when he and Riley weren’t together,” Spencer says.

“Yeah, I thought he’d be the first one of the group to get married,” I say, nudging Miles.

With a shrug, Miles grins. “Sometimes love happens when you least expect it.”

Jack groans. “That’s the worst cliche I’ve ever heard. Are we up for some games? I’ve got a few new ones since we last played.”

“Nope,” Miles says. “I’m sticky in places I don’t want to think about and I miss my wife.”

Spence, Jack, and I gag and Miles laughs. “You wish you could say the same.”

As much as I don’t want to admit it, that’s exactly what I want. Not the sticky part, just the wife.

14

TREY

After dropping Miles off at his house, I stayed up extra late playing cards at Jack’s and got a hangover from the lack of sleep, and a couple drinks. What can I say? It’s hard to want to go home to an empty house. Maybe that’s why I haven’t put everything away yet, either. I’d rather hire someone else to do it than wonder what a future spouse would say about the state of my house.

That and my mother’s constant nagging about how I need to find a wife and give her grandbabies only adds to the headache from the few drinks I had.

And then the sun is shining through the windows and I realize I missed my alarm. The morning workout I’d planned would have to wait until later, at least until after Kenzie arrives.

I walk out, grabbing a protein shake to get started and then hurry to pick up some of the clothes I’d left out the past few days. If Kenzie is a cleaning fanatic, as I suspect, this might have her running for the hills.

When I lean over to pick up my dirty socks that are partially hidden by the couch, I can smell the body odor mixed with deodorant on my t-shirt. Not pleasant.

I strip it off and hurry into the laundry room to drop it in the laundry basket. I’m trying to find something clean, but no luck here. My bedroom is the next spot and I search for something fresh in the several open boxes strewn around the room. Has it really been that long since I last did laundry?

The doorbell rings as I’m no closer to finding something not covered in dried sweat. I pause. Do I just answer the door and then hurry back to my room and get a shirt? Do I even have a t-shirt presentable for someone to come over?

“Come in,” I say, making sure my voice is loud enough to hear through the living room and to the door.

There’s a pause and then a muffled, “It’s locked.”

Right. My father had drilled into me the importance of locking up. He’d always circled the house at least four times every night to make sure everything was secure. Even during the day, it seemed like we never unlocked things unless we re-locked them right away.

There’s nothing. I’m out of t-shirts.

Kenzie knocks again and I dart out, looking for any shirts I might’ve dropped somewhere discreet in my time relaxing in my own home.

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