21. Emma

Taking a deep breath, I plot my course to the entrance. I've had to park a bit away due to the two massive delivery trucks taking up all the spaces close to the doors, so this is going to be fun. The rain lashes against the car, but I can't sit here all fucking day. Pulling my waterproof tighter around me and lifting the hood over my loose hair, I clutch my bag on my shoulder, doing a quick check to make sure it is zipped up so the contents don't get soaked. I set my keys in my hand so I can quickly lock it as I'm running towards the dry inside.

Slamming the door, I get hit in the face with a gust of wind and rain that is coming down horizontally, reminding me of the joys of living here. "Ah!" I cry as I lock the car and start the battle against the wind. There is no running; I can barely walk.

Where the fuck did this gale come from?

"Whoa!" I shriek as it picks up pace and slams into me, blowing me back a couple of steps. "Fuck this."

"There you go," a male voice resounds in my ear over the wind. "Steady on." His hands go around my waist, and I freeze. Lachlan?

Turning my head as he lets me go, I breathe out in relief. "Hey, Keir!" I shout. "This rain is crazy!"

He chuckles, and grabs my hand, pulling me into the gusts with all the strength of the enormous enforcer man he is.

We make a mad dash for the arena entrance, Keir's grip firm and reassuring as we zigzag between puddles that resemble miniature lochs more than anything. My heart's thumping—not from the run, but because having Keir so close sends a strange sort of thrill through me. It doesn't help that he looks particularly fit in his soaked T-shirt that clings to him like a second skin, outlining muscles I want to lick.

We reach the shelter of the arena foyer, gasping and laughing like two kids who've just raced through a storm on a dare. He releases my hand but doesn't step back right away.

"You look like a drowned rat," he says with a grin that crinkles those sea-green eyes of his, reaching up to push back my hood, which did a crap job of keeping my hair dry.

"And you look like a swamp monster," I retort, trying to wring out my hair. "Don't you believe in coats?"

Keir just grins, water dripping from his blonde locks onto the floor. "It was sunny when I set off."

"Yeah, I know how that goes."

Shaking off the drops of rain from my waterproof, I go as still as a statue when Keir peels off his tee right there in the foyer. My jaw might as well be on the floor because, holy hell, Keir Drummond is ripped. "What are you doing?" I stammer out, blushing furiously and cursing myself for staring at muscles that are carved out of fucking granite. The man is a god. How did I never notice him in school?

"I can't walk around dripping wet, can I?" he says nonchalantly, flashing a lopsided smile as he wrings out the shirt. "Don't worry, Emma. I'm not going to remove my pants… unless you want me to." His eyes sparkle with mischief, and I pant a little.

"Sorry I didn't reply to your message," I blurt out suddenly.

He shrugs. "It's okay. It was late, and I'm guessing you had a busy morning getting ready for this."

"Yeah," I mutter lamely.

"But I can see you're okay, so all good," he adds just as lamely. We are like two lame ducks in a pond, only less graceful. "Anyway," I say, trying to change the subject and to stop ogling the Adonis in front of me, "thanks for the save out there. The wind's a beast today."

"No problem," he says easily. "Can't have our new boss getting blown away before the season even starts."

I chuckle at that. "Yeah, that would be unfortunate," I put my hands up to mimic the headlines. "‘Emma Thornton, swept away by Scottish gale on first day.' Not exactly the headline I'm aiming for."

He laughs with me, and a warmth spreads in my chest that has nothing to do with being out of the rain and everything to do with him. "Are you ready for your first day at the helm?" he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply with more confidence than I feel. The last thing I need is the team thinking I'm not cut out for this.

Keir tosses his drenched shirt over his shoulder. "So, about that offer to help with the team," he begins, his tone turning a bit more serious despite the twinkle still playing hide and seek in his eyes. "I really meant it. If you need anything—strategies, player insights, or just someone to vent at about Lachlan's stubborn arse—count me in."

My laughter bursts out before I can stop it. Trust Keir, who clearly knows what he knows, to take a dig at his Captain while half-naked and dripping wet in an arena foyer. "Thanks, I will take you up on that. Can we chat later?"

"Yeah," he nods and steps closer again. This proximity thing is going to be the death of me—or my self-control, at least. "I'll come and find you after you chat with Keith."

I nod slowly, trying desperately not to rake my gaze over his hot body again. "Yeah, okay. I'd better go. Dad's waiting."

He hesitates, his gaze boring into mine, and then he reaches out to curl a lock of my wet hair around his finger before letting it go. "See you soon, Carrot Top."

The smile that curves up his lips is wicked.

"Fuck you," I growl, although there is no real anger. "Call me that again, and I'll kick your arse."

He chuckles as he walks away, and I drop my gaze to that arse and bite my lip. Fuck, it's cute. He is cute. He is hot.

Fanning myself as I walk in the opposite direction and up the stairs near the admissions office, I take them two at a time, now a bit late to meet Dad.