Page 6 of Ruff and Tumble

Cole glanced down at the dog panting laboriously on the aged linoleum of the elevator floor and found himself sharing that wish. As he was also of a practical turn of mind, he shrugged himself out of his blazer and dangled it from one finger. The bespoke wool would never get clean again, but it would make a semicomfortable bed. He was no veterinary expert, but that animal didn’t look like she was going to hold on to anything.

“Are you kidding?” Hailey blinked at the offering. “I can’t take that. It must have cost hundreds of dollars.”

Thousands of dollars, actually, but it didn’t seem like a good time to point that out. He shook it at her. “It’s comfortable. You can’t leave the dog on the floor like that.”

Hailey bit her lower lip in consternation, her every feeling flitting across delicate features. Cole had always heard that expression about wearing your heart on your sleeve, but he’d never seen it put into action before. Although this woman’s heart might not be in literal view, he could still count each beat of her pulse. It was in the pink flush behind her multitudes of freckles and the gently throbbing vein on her temple. It was in the short breaths she took and the small moan at the back of her throat.

She didn’t like him. She didn’t like him, and shedefinitelydidn’t like being trapped in an elevator with him.

“The only other options are my shirt or my pants,” he said. “You choose.”

To his complete lack of surprise, this remark caused the blush of pink across her cheeks to deepen into vibrant red.

“I’m not ruining your jacket,” she said.

“You’ll forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you’re in a dress. Unless you’ve got another one on under there, I don’t see what other choice we have.”

She glanced down at her gray sweater dress and gave another of those back-of-the-throat moans. He wanted to point out that it was anicegray sweater dress and that he liked that she’d paired it with a pair of bright-red Converse shoes, but he didn’t dare. She didn’t seem as though she’d appreciate his sentiments—that she looked exactly like what she was. A woman who ran other people’s errands and took care of other people’s dogs.

She was also his best chance of breaking the stupid curse that had held his team back from making it into the Kickoff Cup for the past two decades, but she didn’t know that yet. Asking that particular favor from a woman who was as impressed by him as she would be a piece of burned toast was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“You’d better get my bag,” she said, sighing.

“Youdohave another dress.”

“Not exactly.”

Cole handed her the oversized black purse and watched as she began rummaging around, his mind running over the possible articles of clothing that might be contained within it.Somethinghad to be turning her that particular shade of red. He’d just decided that it must be a piece of scandalous lingerie when the dog gave a whimper.

“I know, Bess girl.” Hailey clucked sympathetically. “It’s not how I’d have chosen to do this either, but nature has her own way of deciding things. Don’t say anything.”

It took Cole a moment to realize that the second half of that was for him. “Why would I?” he asked. “I think it’s nice that you’re talking to her. Your voice is calming her down. See? She likes it.”

“Not about that,” Hailey muttered as she drew her hands out from her bag. It took much less than a moment for Cole to make the connection this time around. He tried to fight his laugh—he really did—but one look at that teal jersey, and he was done for.

“Is that…number eight?” he asked, his voice wobbling as he caught sight of the back of the jersey. Hailey did her best to hide it from his view, but she wasn’t fast enough.

“I told you not to say anything.”

“And is that…my name above it?”

“This is an emergency situation. You could show more tact.”

He could have shown more tact. Heshouldhave shown more tact. But it was too much. This woman—a complete stranger who was able to sum up everything that was wrong with his game in two painfully succinct sentences—carried his jersey in her purse. Not only that, but she was mortified about it.

“I could sign it for you,” he said, unable to help himself. “After Bess is done with it, I mean.”

“No, thank you,” she said. Her words were prim, but the red flush was starting to creep down her neck, and she was careful not to look at him. “I wouldn’t want to put you to the bother.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. I’m always happy to meet a fan.”

Her gaze snapped up, her eyes blazing. In the office, they had seemed a sort of murky, indeterminate gray, but in the bright lights and mirrored walls of the elevator, they flashed with sparks of silver. “I’m not a fan.”

“Obviously.”

“Your name and game play come up in my regular line of work, that’s all. It’s my job to know who’s going to be in the Kickoff Cup so we can leverage that information for our puppy version. Advertisers like the tie-ins.”

“Oh, I believe you.” He paused and watched as she arranged the jersey in a neat pile around the golden retriever. He had no idea how many puppy births she’d presided over, but there was an efficiency to her movements he couldn’t help but admire. “But does that mean you think the Lumberjacks are going to break the curse and make it to the final game this year? Even with my terrible arm?”