Chapter One #2
The secluded corner of the hospital lobby where she found herself consisted of a few fake potted plants and a sadly abandoned end table bleached nearly to white either by age or the sun coming in through the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows.
As she glanced up at the wall of glass, she caught a glimpse of her reflection.
Normally Kayla wasn’t vain, but her morning had been all about introspection, so she indulged in a moment of external reflection.
Despite a monumentally challenging year for her mental health, she could admit one thing.
When it came to her looks, she still had it.
No one wandering through this lobby would guess that she had turned thirty-seven just a few weeks ago.
She had a youthful face only marked by her love of the sun and her easy smile.
A lifelong tan and a few smile lines looked good on just about everyone, Kayla included.
People also underestimated her age because she had not been blessed with height.
Checking in at just a couple inches over five feet, her body was built for speed, and she’d taken full advantage during her abbreviated soccer career.
But she wasn’t a pushover. She had a stocky build, plenty of lean muscle, and a pretty great pair of tits, so all in all, she could turn a few heads.
Nature had cursed her with lackluster, dirty blonde hair, but chemistry fixed that for her just fine.
So what that her eyebrows were several shades darker than her colored hair, who cared?
It worked with her deep brown eyes and round cheeks.
Of course, most of the time her hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head like it was now, but there was enough curl to make it style well when she wore it down.
Her cap-sleeved polo shirt showed off just a handful of her many tattoos.
Another embellishment to nature’s blank canvas.
She adored all the art on her body, and the multiple piercings in her ears carried hoops and studs dainty enough to be less scary rocker and more edgy femme.
The ink and metal earned her a few second glances, but since her work wasn’t white collar, she didn’t have to worry about it too much.
That thought brought her eyes to the stitched logo on the breast of her polo. She straightened the pale blue fabric and smiled at the cartoon dog’s face. Above the goofy puppy grin was the name of her greatest contribution to the world. The achievement she was most proud of.
Ruff Times Canine Therapy was a business she had created out of one of the darker chapters in her life.
More than most people in the world, Kayla knew that dreams could sometimes shatter inside the sterile walls of a hospital.
When she arrived with her therapy dogs and saw a smile return to the face of a miserable patient, she knew she was on at least one correct path in life. Sometimes that was almost enough.
A woman with pale white skin and an ass that would make angels weep stopped a few steps away from her. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re Kayla Lamb, right?”
The woman was wearing scrubs and a lab coat, but Kayla couldn’t see the name on her badge.
She had a new contact for today’s visit.
Maybe this was her, but she also might be a fan from her old soccer days.
She was about Kayla’s age, so in the right generation if she was a soccer fan.
It was rare, but every now and then, she met someone who remembered the promising young firebrand who flamed out before her full potential was met.
“I am Kayla. Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand and applied a smile that was equally professional and guardedly welcoming.
The woman took her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “Dr. Amy Nielsen.”
So, she was the new hospital contact and not a fan.
Too bad. She was cute with her high blonde ponytail tied in an orange bow and heart-shaped face.
There were subtle lines around her eyes and much deeper ones under her round cheeks when she smiled.
Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled with intelligence, and her teeth were so perfectly straight and white she could have been a model created in AI.
A week ago, Kayla would have tried some gentle flirting, but with her upcoming coffee date with Skye, no woman on the planet, no matter how cute, could turn her head.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Nielsen. Thanks again for letting us come in,” Kayla said.
“Please, call me Amy. And it’s our pleasure. Your team just arrived at the loading dock. Would you like to go there first or straight up to the patient rooms?”
“The loading dock, please. I need my puppy fix just as much as the patients.”
Amy laughed along with her and directed them both through a set of locked double doors.
They entered a distinctly less polished area of the hospital.
The walls were dingy painted concrete rather than drywall, and the floors were scuffled almost to the point of being black.
Kayla’s steps picked up, but she forced herself to keep pace with her less athletic guide.
Ever since she started her company three years ago, she found she was much more comfortable in these areas of hospitals rather than the blandly welcoming and sterile areas.
She didn’t feel like a patient when she was back here.
Amy turned another radiant smile to her. “What made you decide to start a therapy dog company? Have you always been a dog person?”
“More like I’ve always been an injury person.” Kayla had given this speech to so many reporters and donors that she could do it in her sleep. “I was a pretty high-level athlete for most of my life.”
“I heard you played with the US Women’s National Team for a while. Did you play at the World Cup? Or maybe the Olympics?”
Suddenly, this blonde bombshell was far less sexy.
Kayla focused her attention on the feel of her toes inside her shoes.
The way they pressed down into the thick rubber soles of her sneakers.
The way the tread gripped the polished floor and then released.
Gripped and released. Eventually, the buzzing in her ears and the clenching in her chest eased.
Unfortunately, the pause in conversation was too long to be ignored.
“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “That was an insensitive question. You said you’d been injured. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s okay.” Kayla was relieved to hear that her voice sounded normal, if distant. “No, I didn’t get into a major tournament. I played at the Algarve Cup in Portugal during my sophomore year in college and several international friendlies.”
Seventeen matches. Two starts in the Algarve, five starts in friendlies, six times off the bench in the second half, and four matches dressed without playing.
Two assists, seven goals, and an eighty-three percent connected pass percentage.
Not bad for an attacking midfielder who tore her ACL, MCL, and meniscus at twenty-three years old. The first act of a vaporized dream.
“I had a pretty serious knee injury during the College Cup playoffs in my senior year. Watched the professional draft where I’d been predicted as the number one overall pick from a hospital bed with a young blonde curled up at my side.
” She gave Amy the wink that had earned her more than a few single-night companions back in her twenties.
“Yellow lab. Her name was Daisy, and she got me through a lot of really rough days.”
Apparently, the wink was losing its effectiveness, because a line of concentration formed between Amy’s brows. “Repair or replacement on the ACL?”
“Three repairs were unsuccessful, so they eventually gave me a cadaver replacement.”
“Any bone instability?”
Okay, so it wasn’t a weakening of the wink. Amy was one of those orthopedic surgeons who got off on the details of her injury. These conversations always made her feel like a porterhouse steak dangling in front of a tiger.
“I have about forty percent of my meniscus remaining, so yeah, a little instability. There are some titanium rods in there. I forget the details, but I can give you my surgeon’s contact information if you want specifics.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I did it again. I get lost in the nerdy details sometimes. I’ve always been better at the cutting part than bedside manner.”
She really did look apologetic, so Kayla forgave her. “It’s okay. I get the same way about dog breeds these days.”
Amy pushed open a door, allowing a burst of fresh air into the stuffy corridor, and held it open for Kayla to pass through. “What’s your favorite breed?”