“Hmmm,” she considered, her brow wrinkling as she thought. All the while, her gaze traveled over his face.
“I like your hair,” she said, surprising him.
“Thanks.”
“Why’d you get it cut?”
“I just thought it was time.”
“Time? What does that mean? Your hair was your bad-boy hallmark,” she said, arching her brows in amusement.
He gave her a droll glance. “If that was true, then I’m doubly glad it’s gone.”
“You wear the new look extremely well.”
He stilled, seeing the flash of heat in her eyes. He started to step into her—he’d been straining at the bit not to touch her since first seeing her. She’d looked so disheveled and distracted and sexy when she’d walked out of that door earlier. When she’d seen him, she’d frozen up, though. That’d restrained him from reaching out for her.
He paused in stepping forward to take her in his arms when she suddenly snapped her fingers. “Ah, I know what you might like. We just got these in a few weeks ago. Follow me.”
She led him to a closed door. She went in and flipped on a very dim light. He entered and saw a room filled with metal shelving racks with long, flat boxes stacked on them. They walked down an aisle between the shelves and he saw that the white boxes were all labeled.
“Here,” she said, pausing. “Help me with these three, on top.” He grabbed one end of the boxes and she the other. She nodded in the direction she wanted him to go. In an open area, they set down the three boxes on a long table. She started to lift off the lid, and he assisted her on his end. He paused in mid-movement when he saw what lay inside the long box.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, setting down the lid. “Is that—”
“Jim McMahon’s Bears uniform. It’s the one he wore in the—”
“Nineteen eighty-five Super Bowl,” Trey finished. “I was only two when they won it, but my brother, Kevin, was twelve. He and my dad were such a huge fans, I swear I must have absorbed their enthusiasm in the womb and been born a Bears fan. My mom insists I was too young to remember the ’85 Super Bowl, but whether it’s from me seeing old clips or Kevin talking about it nonstop or what, I swear I have a memory of sitting in our living room, watching it. Kevin won’t believe it when I tell him I saw this.”
“Tell him to come by anytime, and I’ll show him as well, if he’s interested. We’ll have it down here for quite a while. We’re doing a big sports exhibit next fall,” Eleanor explained.
He glanced up and was snagged by her smile. “Really?”
Her laugh sounded pleased and a little surprised. “Really.”
He glanced down at the boxes. A thrill raced through him when he saw the tag on the bottom box.
“No way. Is that . . . Walter Peyton’s uniform?”
“Yeah. Do you want to see it?”
“Of course I want to see it.” She chuckled and helped him move aside the other two boxes. A moment later, he stared down at his hero’s uniform laid out in the box.
“You have got the coolest job ever.” He looked up in time to see her stunned expression. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could—”
“Do you want to touch it?”
“Uh, yeah, I do. But I was just going to say take a picture.”
“Tell you what,” she said, moving over to a cabinet and pulling out a drawer. “Hold it up and I’ll take a picture of you. Then you can send it to Kevin and your dad, if you want?”
She handed him a pair of cotton gloves like the ones she’d been wearing earlier. She had him turn off the flash on his phone camera. A few seconds later, he sent off a photo of him holding up Sweetness’s jersey, a huge grin plastered on his face.
&nbs
p; “They’re going to be so jealous,” Trey told Eleanor several minutes later as they left the cool, dim storage room. She turned to him once they were in the hallway again.
“Where next?” she asked him. She’d tried to straighten her hair at some point while he was drooling over several other of the museum’s collection of many sports legends’ uniforms. Now her thick, long hair was piled on her head again in a very messy bun. He experienced a strong urge to rip apart her efforts and see it spilling all around her pretty face and down her back.