Page 2 of Her Goal
I tell myself not to think about the controversy surrounding the player exchange that took me off the Texas Rangers team and here to the Knights. The buzz that it wasn’t fair. In this case, I got the better deal because Nebraska is top three in the league and I’m at the other end of the spectrum.
My sole focus is to get my stats up, keep my career, and move on. As it stands, I’m just squeaking by and that’s not good enough.
The sprinkler slows to a stop and I open one of the French doors, welcoming the crisp, fresh air. I take a deep breath and anotherthumpcomes from the direction of the garage’s exterior window, looking out over the backyard. I swing my head to the left and a person dressed entirely in black goes still—as if by doing so, I somehow won’t see them. They cradle something in their arms and then look away from me and over their shoulder for an escape route.
“Hey! What are you doing? This is private property!”
With a hat pulled low and a bandana over their face, I can’t tell who it is, but a few pieces of long hair trail loose out of the bottom of the hat.
A female burglar or a puck bunny?
Even though I’m the one who just showered, they’re dripping wet on account of the sprinklers.
“Get out of here or I’m calling the police!” I holler.
Without answering, she takes off at a trot. The leaves on the ground are slippery and she loses her footing. Her free arm windmills as she scrambles to keep her balance.
As a goalie, I’m used to making saves and rush forward. Yes, still in the towel, I don’t want an intruder getting injured on my property and then suing me over it.
At the same time as I extend my arms to keep her from hitting the cement patio, the parcel she clutches sails into the air.
My instincts tell me to save the person, but curiosity has me desperate to know what’s in the grubby bundle. It’s about the size of a baby. However, I’m certain I’m not a father.
She must think it’s valuable because instead of trying to save herself, she lunges for it. We collide and land in a tangle.
Pressing to sit, I scoot back. Damp leaves cling to my bare skin and the towel is filthy. I’ll need another shower.
Soaked from the sprinklers, she turns away from me.
“What’s going on? Who are you?” My voice is gruff, but I can’t disguise the surprise mingled with confusion from my features.
“What were you expecting, a troll?” she asks.
I blink with confusion before pointing toward the gate. “Get off my property! Look what you did!” I gesture to myself.
Her dark eyes shadow and in a low, menacing voice, she says, “Which is it? Do you want answers or for me to scram?”
“How about explaining yourself?” I answer, lurching closer with the intent to pull off the bandana like I’m a Scooby Doo character exposing the bad guy.
Gripping the bundle, she takes off running. I’ve always been a good neighbor and don’t want to frighten anyone on Golden Bantam Lane—half-dressed at this hour—and have the police called onme, so I head inside. Whoever that was seemed relatively harmless. Actually, the whole thing was downrightweird rather than alarming. Still, I’ll file a police report after another shower.
After cleaning up and throwing on some joggers, I crash on the bed and don’t wake up until later that afternoon. I have a slew of calls to return, and no chance to notify the police about my strange early morning encounter. Instead, I take a few minutes to sort out the security system and finish unpacking.
As I stash the plastic moving tubs in the garage, I yelp at a higher pitch than I’d like to admit when something out of place catches my eye. I leap backward and nearly fall on my backside. So much for being hockey-agile.
“What are you doing here, Howie?”
Clicking my tongue, I realize who was likely prowling around my house this morning. Given that the size and shape of the bundle she held matches that of the ceramic garden gnome presently staring me down, she must’ve come back while I was sleeping.
An electric shiver runs down my spine. I can’t help but wonder what else Cobbiton has in store for me.
2
LEAH
I brushthe last of the leaves out of my hair and add a fresh bandage to my finger where I cut it on the stubborn, sticky garage window.
While planning my visit to theJust Soldproperty on Golden Bantam Lane, I underestimated how quickly the sun rose and didn’t factor in the possibility of a landscape irrigation system … or the homeowner being up that early. I had to go back a second time because I didn’t quite finish the job.
