Swooning over the Football Billionaire Groom (Sweet, Christian Football Bad Boy Romance Series Book 1)

by Ellie Hall

  Declan’s throat tightened. He shook his head not sure what she meant but felt much the same way about losing her even though it was also inevitable. Then his eyes shot to Maggie.

  Chapter 9

  Maggie

  Maggie shifted nervously. She knew not telling Declan everything that the message said would come back around, but it wasn’t her business. At the time, she hardly knew him and had no idea why he was trusting her with something so personal. She still didn’t know him that well, but she was certain that since arriving in Ireland, Declan had iced over. At the mention of Cole, he positively froze even though the room was warm. She didn’t know how, but she had to fix it.

  After several stories, including one about a case of mistaken identity which brought Aunt Sheila to the castle in Concordia, it was time to say goodnight. Noting the cross above the bed, Maggie held Declan’s aunt’s hands and said a prayer.

  The older woman smiled. “I’m thankful I was able to finally see my Declan happy, giving me the peace I needed to join my Heavenly Father. Thank you, Maggie.” A coughing jag shook her frail body.

  Maggie opened and closed her mouth, but the correction that she and Declan were not a couple didn’t come out. She felt caught in another lie, but how could she take that away from the woman?

  Declan stood in the corner, his face partway in shadow. Certainly, he heard the comment but must’ve felt the same way. No sense in dashing his aunt’s happiness on her deathbed.

  Maggie gave the two a few moments alone and waited for Declan by the front desk. The walk to the waiting car was quiet. She wanted to ask him about how Aunt Sheila had assumed that they were together. It only complicated matters and made things more awkward. But part of Maggie didn’t object to the mistake even though it was a silly thing to desire. There was no way a famous football player would be interested in a regular girl like her.

  As the car idled at a traffic light, she found her resolve. “It was really nice to meet your aunt. She’s proud of you and it’s obvious how much she cares about you.”

  He was quiet as the car accelerated when the signal changed. “She’s a special woman. All those years ago, she took me in and loved me like she’d known me all my life. What she did know was that I was a street thug—I’d gotten in so much trouble. She forgave me. She also introduced me to Jesus and it’s been in Him that I seek forgiveness.”

  “I hope you’ll forgive me for not correcting her about us. I know that this is merely a business arrangement, but I didn’t want to disappoint or upset her, all things considered.”

  His head jerked in her direction. “A business arrangement? Maggie, we both know that it’s more than that,” he said in a rush.

  Her heart stuttered.

  “We get along really well.”

  “When you’re not blasting me with water.”

  “It’s easy to talk to each other.”

  “That’s because you have to. I’m your etiquette coach.”

  “Don’t you realize that we’ve become friends?” His eyes were tender but his brows were lifted in surprise.

  “We hardly know anything about each other. How can we be friends?” She wasn’t sure why she was objecting other than the fact that being friends with him had the potential to become something more. Risking that meant risking her job and her heart.

  “I know that your favorite kind of cake is carrot, you seem to have an affinity for official days—official doughnut day, official sweet romance day, official bumble bee day, official French language day...I could go on.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go back to Paris,” she blurted.

  “Ah, now I know something else about you.”

  “What do I know about you?”

  “You know that I’m an amazing football player, ruggedly handsome, big muscles—” He flexed then raised and lowered his eyebrows.

  Her breath came out shaky. “But everyone knows that.”

  “Fair enough.” He leaned forward and gave instructions to the driver, but didn’t say anything else for the next few minutes as the car motored several miles north.

  When it pulled into the driveway of a luxury townhome, Declan finally spoke. “Welcome to Howth and the house I’ve never set foot in. I have plenty of room for you to stay, including a guest flat that was supposed to be occupied by Aunt Sheila, only she preferred her flat in the city proper. You can stay here or I can have you brought back to the hotel. In the meantime, I’m going to prove that we’re friends.” He started to get out of the car.

  She grabbed his arm. “Wait—I have something to tell you.” Her voice was even.

  He lowered back in and tilted his head in her direction.

  “I have a confession.”

  “That you’re actually a vampire? That you love pickles and peanut butter? That you swapped out your college roommate’s designer water for tap water? Two truths and one lie for me, baby. I am not a vampire.”

  She took a deep breath and held his gaze.

  His smile fell when he realized she wasn’t joking.

  “The first night when you asked me to listen to the voicemail, I didn’t tell you the whole story. I think it was about your friend Cole—the person your Aunt Sheila mentioned.”

  “What did the message say?” His voice was tight.

  The content of the voicemail had played in her mind every day since she’d heard it. “It was a woman, but she didn’t leave her name. She sounded upset. What I’d told you about her saying that you should call, no matter what time of day or night and that it was important, were both true. But she also said that he’d overdosed. That he might not make it. Her voice had cracked and she was crying, so I couldn’t quite make out the name, who he was, but now I realize that it must’ve been Cole—who your aunt Sheila mentioned.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “It seemed too personal. That was for you to hear. Not me. I tried to get you to listen to it yourself. I tried to tell you the truth. I’m sorry. I realize now that was selfish of me. I wasn’t thinking about you and how it would’ve been important for you to go to his bedside.”

  Declan’s eyes were icy and he got out of the car.

  A moment later he came around to the passenger side and opened her door.

  Maggie figured she’d go back to the hotel after she’d dropped that truth bomb, but he held out his hand to help her out of the vehicle.

  “Come on. We have to talk.”

  She followed him up a hedge-lined, lantern-lit path to the house. Salt and seaweed scented the breeze. The lights were already on inside. A fire crackled in a brick hearth, taking the dampness out of the air even though it was early summer.

  Declan stood in the foyer and looked around. “Strange that I’ve never been here before.” He took off his coat and then sat on the sofa.

  Maggie quietly followed.

  Declan sighed and then said, “Cole was my best friend when I was growing up. Even though I’d moved numerous times, we always found our way back to each other. He taught me everything I knew about lying, stealing, and cheating. Aunt Sheila used a choice word when I told her about him for the first time and said she’d thank God until the end of time that she got me out of there.”

  “It was that bad?” Maggie asked.

  Declan nodded gravely. “When we were kids, we did pranks, harmless stuff mostly. Then when we were barely teenagers, twelve, thirteen, he started running with a different crowd. They were harder. Got into drugs. That was the end. He’d changed after that. I’d lost him but didn’t give up on him.” Declan dropped his head into his hands. “I tried. Tried to get him back on track. Stuff happened. He never forgave me.” The words were clipped like he was reaching back into memory and seeing the whole picture, but only sharing snapshots.

  “I’m sorry, Declan. That sounds hard.” She knew words didn’t suffice in that situation.

  “The worst part was when he told me, and I quote, that as long as he was alive or dead, he never wanted to see me again. Tha
t just about broke me. It got dark in my life, but then Aunt Sheila led me to the light. Jesus taught, ‘If you forgive others their transgressions, your heavenly Father will forgive you’ (Matthew 6:14).” Declan’s jaw twitched.

  She was glad he was a man of faith but sensed there was something more, something he was hung up on and not saying it.

  “Again, I apologize for not telling you.” Maggie bit her lip, still feeling awful.

  “I accept your apology, but even if I had gotten the message in time, I couldn’t have gone. I respected Cole’s wishes.”

  “But if he was dying—”

  Declan shook his head. “Believe me, I tried to repair our friendship, but he’d changed so much. I mean, the last time I saw him, I hardly recognized him. All the good was devoured by drugs. In many ways, he was already gone.”

  Maggie stared at her hands and then a larger one gripped hers.

  Declan’s gaze tugged hers to meet his. “Maggie, I forgive you for not telling me.”

  “But what if the call had been about your aunt and I misunderstood? I mean, it could’ve been.”

  He shook his head. “No, I recognized the number. I have her doctors on speed dial and the hospice saved in my contacts. I talk to Aunt Sheila every day.” The corner of his lip tugged up. “She knew things were beyond salvaging with Cole. She said the only one to save him is the Savior. Sadly, I agree. Hopefully, he’s at peace now.”

  “Will you go to the funeral?”

  Declan shrugged and his eyes dimmed. “He said he never wanted to see me again dead or alive.”

  “Maybe it would help you though. You know, to put the past to rest.”

  His thumb brushed the soft part of her hand between her pointer finger and thumb. “That part of the past? I already have.”

  “What about his mother?”

  “I’ll get in touch with her tomorrow and pay my respects.” His nod was short, giving her the sense that there was more to the story. After all, she’d successfully omitted parts of her story. Maybe there were things that he wasn’t saying.

  Declan abruptly got to his feet. “So weird that I’ve never been here. Let’s go exploring. The Cole I knew would’ve liked that.”

  They toured the house with its two floors, the adjacent flat—or as it would’ve been called in the U.S., the mother-in-law apartment—and ended up in the spacious kitchen. The back wall consisted entirely of windows. Sailboats bobbed in the water of Howth Harbor. Moonlight glinted off the rigging.

  Declan gazed there for a long moment as though sending his thoughts out to sea. “I called ahead to prepare for arrival. Make yourself at home. I need to go freshen up. You’re welcome to do the same in the adjacent flat unless you’d like to return to the hotel. After, we can have something to eat,” Declan said. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.

  Since landing in Ireland, his Irish accent had become stronger. It had a low, soothing quality when he wasn’t joking around and being boisterous. She wanted him to read her poetry and tell her stories. She tried to dismiss the silly notion. She wasn’t an actual princess, inclined to a life of romance. She was his coach. And she’d just told him that she’d lied.

  The thing was, he forgave her. It was a relatively small thing in the grand scheme, but if he could forgive her, who could she forgive in her life?

  Maggie went to the small apartment adjacent to the main house and found her bag on a table by the door. She hadn’t brought much, which may have been a mistake since she wasn’t sure how long they’d be in Ireland. Didn’t he have football-related events back in the States? Or did he have the month off? Reminded that she was technically still working, she gave him an A+ on his first day away from the school.

  The Declan she’d first met and the man she was presently with at a townhome in Ireland were two entirely different people. One was thoughtful and sincere. The other was carefree and cocky.

  Although it was peculiar that he’d never been there. He seemed very quick to flaunt and spend his money, something she had a hard time with.

  Nonetheless, after the long day of travel, Maggie had no energy to return to the hotel and figured it would save Declan money to remain in the flat—not that it seemed like he cared about blowing cash on a swanky hotel.

  She changed into leggings and her favorite oversized Disney sweatshirt. Her stomach grumbled, signaling she’d better head to the kitchen.

  Declan stood with his back to her in front of the stove, stirring something. “I hope you like traditional Irish stew. Actually, I can’t say that since I’m cutting a few corners and making the quick version. Don’t tell Aunt Sheila.” Declan’s lips quirked with naughty amusement. His T-shirt hung over the muscles of his back, hugging them as he moved.

  Previously, he’d worn suits at the Blancbourg school. Now he was in a black T-shirt and blue jeans. A full sleeve of tattoos covered one arm.

  She approached him tentatively, not feeling confident the air between them was clear. Could she forgive him if he’d done the same? The answer floated into her mind. Yes, of course.

  He turned, holding a wooden spoon aloft. “Come taste this, it’s delicious if I do say so.”

  She stepped closer and he cupped his hand under the spoon while feeding her a bit of the broth.

  “I’ve eaten at many of the finest restaurants in the world and nothing compares to a homecooked meal. When I was a kid, they were few and far between so I’ve come to appreciate the simplicity—” He broke off. “Do you not like it? Did I add too much thyme?”

  She tried to smile but felt unsure about their status—not as friends necessarily. No, as someone he could trust. How could he forgive her so easily? She knew Jesus’s teachings, but it was easier said than done. He must have read the uncertainty in her expression.

  Declan lowered the spoon and then dropped his hands on her shoulders. “Maggie, thank you for telling me the truth. I had a think in the shower and I apologize for putting you in that position with the voicemail. It wasn’t fair. You did what you thought was right.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

  He tucked his forefinger under her chin, lifting her gaze. “We’re good. Okay?” he said and smiled. “Come on, you need food.”

  Declan set places for the two of them at a farmhouse style table with him at the end and her to his right. He served the soup and some fresh baked artisanal bread.

  After they’d both tucked in, he said, “Okay, two truths and one lie. Do you know that game?”

  “Can we skip the lying part?” she asked.

  “I suppose. Then it’s just telling each other truths.”

  “I think we should only tell each other truths. And the truth is this stew is delicious.” She grinned.

  That earned her a smile. “Thank you. Who goes first?” Declan asked.

  “Let’s do rock-paper-scissors.”

  That time, she won the best of three rounds.

  “Where do I start?” she asked.

  “How about, do you have siblings?”

  “Only child.” And a mistake, a burden at that.

  “Me too. Well, I never met my father so there could be other Declans out there.” He chuckled darkly.

  “I think one of you in the world is enough.” She grinned.

  He laughed. “I’ve only ever worked in football. I know you’ve been a coach and a Disney princess. What other jobs have you had?”

  “Wait. Back up. How have you only ever worked in football?”

  “When I was a hooligan on the streets of Dublin, no one would hire me. When I got to Boston, Aunt Sheila scheduled me an interview for locker cleaning duty at the Bruiser’s stadium.” He leaned in. “No joke, I’d never even seen an American football game. I was loyal to the true and rightful national sport of my home country. You would call it soccer. I call it football. Some people call me a traitor.” He laughed. “How many matches did I sneak into?” He snorted. “Served me right to be cleaning toilets in the locker room of the best football teams i
n the world—even if it was the other kind of football.”

  “God certainly has a sense of humor.” Maggie went on to tell him about her jobs, which were only slightly more glamorous than cleaning locker rooms.

  “I want to hear what being Cinderella was like,” he said.

  Their bowls were soon empty, but they remained at the table, both leaning in, talking for a long time before moving to the living room where the fire had died down.

  Seated on the sofa, they angled to face each other. Declan picked up each of Maggie’s hands, inspecting them. “I see that you’re not wearing a ring. Is there anyone special in your life?”

  She squawked a laugh.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Who’d want to date me?”

  Declan’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open. “Who wouldn’t? You’re beautiful, smart, confident—apparently, except when it comes to your date-ability.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Declan, who’d want to date a woman who can barely keep a job and who—” She wanted to say more but held back. She couldn’t tell him about her family—it was a stretch to even call them that—and the infamy she tried to live down. “I dated a little, but mostly I’ve been single. I do better with friendships.”

  “Lucky for me,” he said. “So no one notable?”

  “There was one, but I’d hardly call him notable other than that he was a thief.” She drew a deep breath and then exhaled. With it the story she’d barely shared with anyone. “Xavier and I had collaborated on a mobile cupcake shop. I had bought the van and everything. It was my entire savings. I was even considering living in it if I had to, but with the oven and everything, I wasn’t sure I’d fit.” She smiled sadly at the bittersweet memory. She’d been so eager to make her endeavor work.

  “So what happened? Why aren’t you a mobile cupcake shop queen?” Declan asked.

  “Anyway, he was investing his funds to get it outfitted to work like a food truck, but with cupcakes.” She smiled at that part of the memory. “I had big plans to cater to people in the parking lots at various theme parks, waiting in lines for the busses, and so on.”