Page 61 of Hometown Halftime

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head as I lean back against the bench. “Riley…”

“I know,” he cuts in gently. “We work together. And I’m sure you’re compiling a list with about ten reasons this is a bad idea.”

“Fifteen,” I correct him.

His mouth twitches. “Knew it. But what if I told you I just want to take you to dinner? We could go to Roanoke. If dinner goes well, maybe a little dancing.”

I leave my backpack on the bench and face him. “Why do you like me, Riley?”

He takes a step closer. “I like your spark, Kinsey. I like your determination. I like what I know about you so far, and maybe I just want a chance to know more.”

My eyes watch as his fingers lace with mine and ugh, how could I say no? He’s handsome and charming and so sweet when he cares for people. And damn it all to hell, he kisses like a god. I know I should shut this down, but I want to know more too. It’s wrong in so many ways, but I just can’t bring myself to say no.

“One date.”

His eyes sparkle. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Yes, and you’re driving.”

He tips his head. “Passenger Princess it is. Does next Saturday night after the fundraiser sound good?”

I hoist my bag over my shoulder. “Sounds perfect. Now let’s get out of here, I have to work a double tomorrow.”

We leave the clubhouse and I lock the door behind us. Riley parked his truck next to my car, and before we part ways, he leans toward me, placing a kiss at my temple.

“Thank you for saying yes. Drive safe, Kitten.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Kinsey

I sit in a plastic chair in the waiting room of Roanoke Valley Orthopedic Specialists and stare at the framed photo of the Blue Ridge Mountains hanging crooked on the wall.

Apparently, every medical office in Virginia is legally required to have one. Cedar Falls is too small to support an entire orthopedic office, so I had to drive into Roanoke for this appointment. My leg bounces restlessly. I’m beginning to hate doctors' offices.

Behind the front desk, a receptionist is steadily tapping at her keyboard, and across the room, an elderly man is flipping through a fishing magazine. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights fills the space.

I shift in the chair, hoping that the doctor will tell me it’s just years of rugby catching up with me. That makes sense. My body has taken more hits than I can count, there have been tackles and shoulders slamming into mine hard enough to rattle bone. Pain has always come with the territory. You ice it, tape it, push through it, and move on.

A door opens across the room, breaking through my thoughts.

“Kinsey Malone?”

I push to my feet, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it over my arm. “That’s me.”

The nurse leads me down a short hallway into an exam room that looks exactly like every other one I’ve ever been in with its beige walls, an exam table, and another mountain scene on the wall just to mock me.

She runs through my vitals while she types notes into the computer.

“So, you’ve been dealing with lower back stiffness?” she asks, eyes flicking between the screen and me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Mostly in the mornings, but the worst pain sort of works its way down my leg. And then there was the episode where I needed a steroid shot.”

She nods, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard as she continues through a list of questions. She asks about any recent injuries, if I’ve changed my activity level, and what my sleep cycle looks like. I give her the same answers I’ve been giving, keeping my tone easy and casual.

Eventually she logs out of the computer and offers me a polite smile. “Do me a favor and hop up on the table, and the doctor will be in shortly.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving the room quiet again.