Play Along(4)

So, she’s pretty and insanely smart. Got it.

“When he told the head of human resources there had been a mistake and the job wasn’t available, Dr. Fredrick was informed that, legally, he had to hire me in some capacity. I don’t think HR knows that his sudden decision of not hiring a second doctor on staff had anything to do with him accidentally hiring one who was a woman.”

The words roll out of her, and she can’t seem to stop.

“And now I’m being offered the job of an entry-level athletic trainer, which, don’t get me wrong, is a great job, but I didn’t spend my entire adult life becoming a sports medicine doctor to have to go to someone else to create treatment plans, you know?” She looks me over from head to toe. “And why the hell am I telling you all of this?”

I chuckle. She’s flustered. It’s endearing.

“Because I’m a good listener.”

That shy smile lifts again. “So, what do you think I should do?”

She’s asking me? Clearly, she knows nothing about me because I’m typically the last person someone comes to when they need advice. I’m the guy they come to when they need a laugh or someone to show them a good time.

My brother is the serious one, and if Kai were here and not off playing baseball for the Seattle Saints, I’d ask him what advice I should give this girl. He’s my sounding board and I miss the hell out of him.

But he’s not here, so this advice is on me.

I personally think she should walk up to Dr. Fredrick and knee him in the balls, but I also really like the idea of her working here. I like the idea of that freckled face showing up at every one of my games.

She’s easy to talk to, and on the worst day of the year, she’s made it bearable. Good, even.

“What do you want to do?” I ask instead of giving her my opinion.

“You really do love to answer a question with a question, huh?”

I smirk at that.

“I want to work in professional sports,” she states plainly. “Jobs rarely become available because this is a lifelong career for most people.”

“You want to work in professional sports,” I echo for her to hear.

She nods at the realization. “I should take the job. At least I’ll be getting my foot in the door. But God, Dr. Fredrick is the worst and if he treats women that way, I can’t even begin to imagine how horrible the players on the team are.”

Fucking ouch.

Granted, we’re a bunch of idiots, but none of the guys are disrespectful.

“I’ll um . . .” I clear my throat. “I’ll make sure none of the other guys on the team give you a hard time.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion, but still she’s got that pretty smile plastered on her lips and it’s doing all sorts of things to my insides.

“Who are you?”

“Two tits and a short-term memory, huh, Kenny? I already told you my name.”

“Do you work in the front office or for—”

“I should get out there.” I gesture to the bathroom door. “Can I walk you out?”

Her eyes latch onto me suspiciously, and all I can do is smile like a fucking dork just from having this smart girl’s attention on me.

I’m not na?ve. I know she’s going to learn I’m one of the players, and if Dr. Fredrick’s warning was any indication, once she knows the truth, she’ll never give me the time of day again. So, for now, I’ll take advantage of what little time I have left.

I open the bathroom door for her, and without having to duck, she walks right under my arm and into the hallway.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she quickly says.

“About what?”

“If I take the job. You can’t tell anyone about what Dr. Fredrick said or about my qualifications.”

“You might be the first doctor I’ve ever met who doesn’t want everyone to know she’s a doctor.”

“Isaiah, please.”

Those two little words stop me in my tracks.

My name. She sounds good saying my name.

She sounds good begging too.

I search her face, desperation plastered on it. “I won’t say anything.”

“And about what you overheard?”

“You mean the part where I learned that Dr. Dick is a woman hater?”

“Yes, that part.”

“No, I’m saying something about that. Right now, in fact.”

She grabs my forearm to stop me with her pale and freckled hand, starkly contrasting my suntanned skin from all my time playing baseball outside.

But before I can memorize the differences, she pulls away in an instant. “If I’m going to work for him, it’s going to be difficult enough. I can’t start off this working relationship with a complaint to the field manager or team owner. I can handle this on my own.”

Independence and determination radiate off her, and though she’s got to be sitting somewhere around 5’3”, her shoulders are squared and pushed back, giving her as much height as possible. Making her as big as possible.

Good. She’s going to need that resolve working for that piece of shit.

“When,” I correct. “When you work for him.”

Her knowing smile matches mine, like there’s a secret only she and I know.