Play Maker(18)

To her credit she seemed to have changed. Really, actually changed from the person who left us all those years ago to the person she was today. There was no sign of the scattered, selfish individual who often forgot to pick us up from school. Instead, I saw a woman who had made mistakes and was doing her best to amend them.

“It’s fine.” I rubbed my eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” she eyed the door.

“Yeah,” I told her. “He’s fine. We did the list.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. It wasn’t the first time I felt like the parent in this relationship and I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be the last. She tried to smile at me. “Did you at least have a good night?”



Standing under the hot water, I took a moment to replay the events of that evening. Fuck, it had been hot. I allowed my muscles to relax, indulging the memory of how good James had felt. How good we had felt together.

And yet, I couldn’t deny that I felt a little off-kilter too. Like he had gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t fully understand. For some reason, my apartment had seemed so small, so crowded when I came home tonight. I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t the first time I had been in one of the hotel suites, but tonight, the memory of its opulence seemed to have followed me home.

I leaned my head against the wall of the shower, thinking, just for a brief moment, of how nice it would have been to stay a little longer. To order those stupid waffles Maya kept talking about, to soap each other up in the insanely luxurious shower that I saw in James’ suite and to tumble into bed again for another round of mind blowing sex.

But doing that would have just delayed the inevitable. The reality of our situations – him, the famous, sexy-as-hell, British playboy and me, the bartender who was behind on her school loans. Staying would have accomplished nothing except give me more opportunities to wish for things I didn’t have. I knew what I could live without. Waffles. Expensive showers. Handsome soccer players. I just didn’t need to be tempted by them.

Nope. Leaving had been the right thing to do. And the next guy would come along soon enough. Pretty soon James and this night would be nothing more than a sexy memory that I might conjure up anytime I had an hour alone with my vibrator. But for now, I would settle for bed, with my body still deliciously sore and be grateful for what I had gotten tonight.





10





James





My legs burned as I raced across the field, maneuvering the ball like it was an extension of my foot. Sweat dripped down my forehead – even though it was only ten in the morning, the day was already hot, sun blasting onto the field where we were practicing. But this was exactly what I needed to clear my head after last night. I still couldn’t believe what had happened. And I couldn’t get Nicole out of my mind. Those eyes. Those lips. Those curves. Fuck.

I ran faster, feeling my muscles cry out for release, but I ignored them. I’d run until I forgot her. Until I got her out of my mind. She was just another one night stand. I had other things to focus on.

We were just over a week away from the exhibition game set up by the Major League Soccer in an attempt to drum up more nationwide interest in the sport. I would have told them that their first mistake was calling it ‘soccer’ and using ‘football’ to describe a game where a player’s foot rarely came in contact with the ball. But what did I know? I was just one of the top players in a sport beloved by his entire nation.

StubHub, the field where we were practicing and where the game would take place, was the home of the Los Angeles Galaxy team. They were pretty well know for snagging Beckham several years ago, though even his star power hadn’t done much to improve the nation’s love of the game. It was clear they were hoping an entire team from the UK might garner some attention.

The management was also being entirely unsubtle about the possibility of stealing players from our team. Staging a Beckham 2.0, or something similar. Ethan had mentioned that several dinners had already been scheduled for him, taking place at very expensive restaurants.

“Why are they taking you out to eat?” I asked him when he told me. “Isn’t the point to impress me?”

“They probably think I have sway over you,” he said wryly. “That if they butter me up, I’ll advise you to take the contract. Clearly they have no idea who they’re dealing with.”

I thought about that as the wind rushed through my hair, a sudden breeze making the weather absolutely perfect as I kicked the ball in a smooth arc, and watched it sail through the air, just out of reach of Rick’s outstretched fingertips. I loved the sound of the ball hitting the back of the net. And luckily I got to hear it quite often.

“Bollocks.” Rick pushed himself off the ground where he had landed, leaping across the goal in an attempt to block the ball. But he wasn’t mad. After all, at the end of the day we were on the same team and my wins were his wins. “You’re lucky I’m hung over.” He grabbed the ball and headed towards me. He was covered in grass stains. Then again, so was I. It wasn’t a good sign if you came out of a practice with your uniform still pristine. Several other teammates streamed past us, exchanging pats and high fives over a good practice game. Rick fell into stride next to me as we headed into the locker room.