Risky Play (Red Card #1)(3)

I was going to die alone.

Damn it, Alton.

If he’d been there he’d have held my hand, rubbed his thumb lightly over my skin, and then later told me something like the guy was beneath us. Which wasn’t true. He had a very low opinion of anyone who wasn’t in his circle, which had always bothered me. Now I was nervous that the one thing I’d despised about him was rubbing off on me.

My chest tightened.

That’s why I needed this vacation.

I needed to decide who I was.

Because at thirty years old, when I looked in the mirror I didn’t see just me, I saw the man who was supposed to be by my side, along with all the flaws that somehow pushed him away. My need to please, my need for my parents’ approval, pushing my girlfriends away because I had him, because they made me lose focus on the prize—running the family business. Thirty years old and I had no life to speak of and now no fiancé.





Chapter Two

SLADE

Vacation had been the only option after getting offered one of the highest salaries in US soccer. They needed a face to sell . . . and I wanted to get away from my old team.

Not to mention my old co-captain and former best friend.

I jerked my headphones over my ears and closed my eyes. I was so damn jetlagged I could sleep for years. The wine had tasted phenomenal, but I was too exhausted to finish it, and I wasn’t an animal.

One never chugged wine.

Or champagne for that matter.

The woman next to me started reading a gossip magazine. The faces staring at me from the cover belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend, and I cringed.

Thank God I was wearing my hair down around my ears so I wasn’t immediately recognizable.

The black beanie helped.

But there was nothing I could do about my golden eyes.

People typically saw what they wanted, though, and according to the world I was still hiding out in my flat licking my wounds.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

From Premier league to the United States.

From Chelsea.

To Seattle.

It was career suicide.

But I’d wanted to be as far away as possible.

And since my mom was American, it made sense.

At least to me.

My former teammates had something else to say about their number-one striker running away.

I snorted. Let their girls get knocked up by a teammate and get back to me.

Shit.

Music pounded in my ears, lulling me to sleep. A few days away before the chaos started, and I’d be good as new.

I licked my lips, still tasting the wine on them, and closed my eyes, letting sleep take me.



“WAKE UP!” a voice screeched next to me.

I jerked to attention as the woman tugged down my headphones and reached for my hand. “Engine failure!”

“Stop yelling.” I pressed a hand to my temple as I looked around the cabin. Everyone seemed to be panicked and staring at the flight attendant like she was going to somehow fix this or hand out parachutes.

“This is your captain,” crackled a reasonably calm voice over the loudspeaker. “We’ve lost one engine, but luckily we’re a few miles out from the Puerto Vallarta airport. Just hang tight and try to relax. We’ll be making an emergency landing in the next ten minutes.” Oxygen masks tumbled from the panel above us. The captain came back on. “Flight attendants, prepare the cabin, and buckle up.”

The woman next to me was pale as a ghost. “This!” She held her head in her hands. “It can’t end like this! I’m not ready, you hear me, universe!” She clenched her fists. “I was left at the altar, this is unfair! Completely unfair!”

“Uh, can I get you something?” I whispered to her in an effort to both calm her and try to get her to put the mask over her nose and mouth. “To help you calm down and stop talking to yourself?”

“One thing.” Her light-blue eyes met mine as an electrical charge pulsed between our bodies.

The plane shook and dove a few hundred feet. I grabbed her hand and rubbed it with my thumb.

She shrieked and reached for my shirt, gripping it with both hands while her eyes frantically searched mine for confirmation everything was going to be okay.

The plane plummeted again.

I gripped her hands, needing the distraction just as much, as a loud noise filled the cabin.

“Answer this question: What one thing do you regret?” she said in a voice that sounded like failure, like giving up, like the world was against her in every single way.

“Just one?” I tried to make light of the conversation even though my adrenaline was spiking like I’d just started the championship match. The plane kept diving at rapid speeds, causing my stomach to lurch. We needed to get our masks on, but getting them on seemed like it would only make her more frantic, and I needed her calm. I wasn’t sure why—I just did. Maybe because her touch was calming me. Maybe because it was the first time I’d touched another woman since being betrayed by the one I thought I loved.

“One.” She nodded more calmly now.

I kept my eyes locked on hers. “I would have drunk all the wine. You were right, it deserved more than a ‘good.’”

Her eyes lit up like I’d just told her she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, which wasn’t too far off the mark. From her caramel-colored hair to her almost too-big eyes to the wide smile on her pillow-like lips, I could imagine many things I’d rather be doing with her than talking.