Matched with Her Athlete Boss (Romance by Love, Austen Book 3) by Britney M. Mills

Author:Britney M. Mills [Mills, Britney M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-01T18:30:00+00:00

18

KENZIE

Working for Trey is already hard and I’m only on day two. Well, technically day one, since the last time consisted of a twenty-minute tour.

The guy looks so dang good every time he appears, whether it's with a sweaty t-shirt or a good-looking polo shirt. And here I am in my joggers and t-shirt, hoping to make some good progress on this job without ruining any of my good clothes. The sooner I finish, the faster I can move on without getting attached.

The start date for Trey’s house wasn’t supposed to be until later in the week, but the dumpster at my dad’s won’t be emptied until tomorrow and my brother’s truck is in the shop. I’d rather not move the bags a second time, even if I get an arm workout in. A huge part of the hoard cleaning is mental gymnastics and I figured I could see a bigger difference today while working at Trey’s.

It doesn’t hurt that our texting session from the day before made me laugh several times. So that could be part of the reason I’m here.

I start with cleaning out all the cabinets in the kitchen. I’m not the tallest girl in the world and have to use one of the bar stools to see the top shelves. Once that’s done, I pull over the few boxes against the wall near the kitchen table.

The first is full of clothing. Wrong place to be storing these, Trey.

The next one has a few plates and several plastic cups. I place those on the bottom shelf of the cupboard next to the sink. The plates go on the lowest shelf by the stove. The most logical places to need the dinnerware in a pinch.

The two forks in his one drawer are part of a four-piece set I find in a smaller box, along with a few canned goods.

“How long has he lived here?” I say out loud when I’ve put all the boxes away. It looks more like Mother Hubbard lives here than a professional athlete.

“Four and a half weeks,” a voice says, and I whirl around to see Trey grinning at me from the doorway. At least he’s fully clothed right now. “You don’t like my selection of food?”

I open the fridge and see only protein drinks and a small bag of carrots. “I’m thinking you’re either not much of a cook or you’re Bugs Bunny.”

He laughs and says, “I do like my carrots. I credit them with not needing glasses. Cooking isn’t my forte and I’m not home that often yet. The off-season means I can actually hang out with my friends when I want and this is one of those days when I’ll pick up something to eat while I’m out with the guys.”

I nod, shutting the door. “You’re not into the clean-eating thing I’ve heard most hockey players do?”

“I usually do, but I get my food from a chef.” His expression is pained, almost like he’s embarrassed to say that.

With a shrug, I say, “You might as well.

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