by Amanda Ashby
“Oh, hey.” He nodded to them both and then turned back to Norah. “They come along to cheer on their cousin.”
I beg to differ.
She glanced around. Several other attractive girls were greedily looking at him. It was like school all over again, just with different girls.
She shut her eyes. At the party last night it had been dark. So easy to get trapped in the strange bubble that had surrounded him. But today it was bright and things were different.
Hysterical laughter caught in her throat. What was she even doing here? For all she knew he always kissed like that at parties. A regular Saturday night for him. And he didn’t date. How had she forgotten?
She should go.
“Everything okay?”
Sure. Just having a freak-out about all the gorgeous girls who want to eat melted chocolate from your chest.
“I have to be somewhere,” she said and turned to leave. He caught her wrist. His touch was light, but he didn’t release her.
“You just got here. Is this about last night?”
Yes. No. Maybe.
“I’m sorry.” She shut her eyes. Things were easier in the dark. “I feel like an alien compared to your fan club.”
“Fan club?” he said, sounding confused. “I told you, I’m not like that. It’s not what I want. Can you open your eyes?”
She let out a reluctant sigh and met his unfaltering gaze. “In theory I believe you, but I’m so different from all the girls you usually hang around. For a start, I’m about twice as tall.”
“Better kissing height,” he promptly said, his mouth finding hers. His breath was warm and tasted of toothpaste.
“A-and I hardly ever blow out my hair.”
“I don’t know what that means, so I can’t explain it away. What else you got?” he demanded and slid an arm around her waist, kissing her again. She reluctantly laughed.
“It’s impossible to be mad with you, isn’t it?”
“I’ve managed to bug Vee enough over the years,” he said and pressed his forehead against hers. “Are we good?”
“Yes.” She nodded, his warmth creeping over her. Then she remembered why she was there and let out a soft groan. “Actually, we might not be after this. It’s kind of embarrassing…”
“More embarrassing than kissing a guy in a pink T-shirt?”
She let the words come out in a rush. “So my mom wants to meet you and has commanded me to invite you to dinner tonight. My stepdad will be there too. We can cancel, but she’s pretty stubborn. I know it’s lame, and not what usually happens when you go to a party with a girl, and—”
“I’d love to.” He broke off her ramble with a kiss. “I’ll even remember which fork to use. Start from the outside, right?”
The dryness in her mouth receded, and she reluctantly laughed. “You’ll be lucky if you even get a fork.”
“Ah, yes. Renovations,” he said. “Norah, it’s fine.”
“You really don’t mind?” She let out her breath. “She’s kind of stressed with the pregnancy thing. And I know we haven’t really talked about—”
He grazed her hand with his finger. “I told you, parents love me. I’m adorable. I’m going to see Steven Lewis this afternoon to collect his donations, so I’ll be able to show you what I get,” he said as a small troop of girls all wearing bright orange shirts marched past them. “Hey, the match starts in ten minutes. Want to stay and watch?”
“Sure.” She nodded. A smile broke out across his face and he jogged over to his team. She waited until he’d gone and then found a spot on the sideline.
“Norah, hi.” Veronica Randolph walked over, holding onto a bright pink jacket and balancing a cup of coffee in one hand. “Zac’s been giving me an update on the auction. Sounds like it’s going to be a great night.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Thanks again for your donation, and for buying a book of tickets.”
“I’m always happy to help a good cause. And it’s nice you’re here to watch the game,” she said. She pointed out a little girl with long brown hair. “That’s my Zoey. She absolutely adores Zac. The whole team does. Before he came along they hadn’t won a single game, but they were undefeated last season. And you know what I think it is? He has the knack of making everyone feel special.”
Norah swallowed as a referee wearing a black and white shirt stepped onto the field. At the same time Zac held his hand to his mouth and blew her a kiss.
Her hand flew up to catch the invisible gift. His smile broadened, and Norah’s knees trembled. Veronica Randolph was right. He really did have a way of making everyone feel special.
12
Zac parked outside Norah’s house and the front door opened before he had the keys out of the ignition. The sun had slipped from the sky, but it wasn’t quite dark. He grabbed the bag full of sachets of hot sauce along with the box of donations from Steven Lewis.
The footballer hadn’t been there when he’d driven out along the coast road to the expensive part of Cricket Bay, but true to his word he’d donated a Champions League football, signed by the entire squad, along with two shirts and a signed photo.
As he climbed out of the car, Norah walked toward him. He blinked. She always wore jeans, even last night, but now she had on a short skirt with tights covering her legs. His mouth went dry, and he dug his nails into his leg to focus. It failed.
“H-hey, you look—” He swallowed, not able to find the words. “Really great.”
“Oh, right.” She dropped her head, as if trying to remember what she was wearing. “Thanks again for doing this.”
“You don’t need to keep thanking me.” He brushed her arm with his fingertips. He really wanted to kiss her but held back in case her mom was at the window. “Besides, you watched my girls annihilate the opposition. It was their biggest win. They now think you’re their lucky charm.”
He couldn’t blame them.
Last night had been…something else.
Sure, he’d spent plenty of parties flirting with girls and occasionally hooking up. But never like that. Never like he was losing his mind. Was this how Myles felt about Kennedy? If so, the punch made total sense.
And she’d told him about the accident.
He’d had his fair share of broken bones and sprains and hospital visits, but none of it had made him want to be a better person. Or save the world. Usually it made him think he was indestructible and he’d go out and do the same dumb thing all over again.
The only part that had stung was that she seemed to think he only cared about how someone looked. But he’d quickly felt like an idiot for thinking it. After what she’d been through, it was understandable.
And she likes me.
As in “meet the parents” liked.
“You were right. They’re pretty ferocious.” She gave him a smile.
“What can I say? I like kickass girls.” He grinned and held out the box. “Speaking of kickass, we should make a buck or two from Steven Lewis. Check it out.”
She peered in, her eyes sweeping the contents, and then grinned. “This is amazing.”
“I know, right? I’m almost tempted to bid on some of it myself.”
“You think you’re going to have time to bid?” Her teasing tone did wicked things to his pulse.
“We don’t want it to be all work and no play.” He balanced the box in one hand and reached for her fingers. Heat shimmered through him, and she let out a little gasp. He grinned, pleased he wasn’t the only one.
“I guess there could be a little bit of play,” she said in a throaty voice. He let out a groan and forgot about the plan to not kiss her until later.
Her lips were soft and full, and his whole body hummed with warmth, like things were outside his control. He wanted to wrap his arm around her, but didn’t want to accidentally touch her scars in case it freaked her out. She let out an unsteady sigh as she finally pulled away.
“Sorry. I’ve been trying to wait until after I met your mom, but you’re ki
nd of irresistible.”
“So we should put this in the garage, and then I’ll do the dreaded introductions.” Pale pink diffused her cheeks and her mouth opened, making him want to kiss her again.
“Sure.” He followed her to the side of the house where there was a large garage. Her hips swayed in the short skirt as she walked. He pressed his mouth together in a grin as she opened a side door and ushered him in.
“What are you smiling at?” she demanded as she flicked on a light.
“Nothing.” He swallowed, once again reminding himself that now would not be a good time to make out.
It was a triple-bay garage. There were two late-model cars inside, along with a large bed mattress propped on its side, a new lawnmower, and a vacuum cleaner. Just some of the donations people had pledged. Seeing them all together was pretty cool. He put the box next to a first-edition Harry Potter the bookstore had given them.
As he walked back to her, he caught sight of a series of framed certificates, all with Norah’s name on. He arched an eyebrow and stepped closer. There had to be at least fifteen of them. All from different charities, all thanking her for her contribution.
“Don’t look at them.” She reached for his hand and tried to twist him around. He didn’t shift.
“You’ve raised money for all these causes?”
“Yeah,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Greg’s even worse than my mom. He insisted on getting them framed, but I wouldn’t let them in the house. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s amazing,” he corrected. “And there’s an orienteering one. I thought you didn’t like sports?”
“I can’t catch a ball to save my life, but I can read a compass, and I don’t mind running,” she said, her color increasing. “Can we please stop looking at them now?”
He rubbed his brow. “I knew you did stuff…I guess I didn’t realize quite how busy you’ve been.”
“I was on the sideline. I had time,” she said. There was a lilting tone to her voice, like it was meant to be a joke, but he stiffened as his stupid words from last night came back to hit him in the face.
After all, what was more important?
Telling a random soccer player she had a crush on him, or earning money to—he turned to one of the certificates—build a school in Africa.
The buzz from last night faded.
“Zac, are you okay?”
He swallowed. Sure. He was great. Apart from the fact the girl he liked lived in an entirely different orbit.
He was saved from answering by the appearance of a tall woman in the doorway. She had similar hair to Norah’s, though her face was longer, and she was most definitely pregnant. Norah stiffened and edged away from him, making her look cuter than ever. He pushed down the low throb of anxiety and held out his hand.
“Hey, Mrs. Richmond. I’m Zac.”
“Hi, Zac. I hope Norah’s not trying to terrify you,” her mom said in a warm voice. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“She hasn’t told me any dark tales,” he said as he handed over the bag of sachets. “Though she did mention these. I hope it’s not a family secret.”
“More like the family shame. But thank you.” Her mom burst out laughing and beckoned them into the house. The kitchen was covered under builder’s plastic, but on the table were three large pizza boxes. “More shame. We’ve been avoiding cooking with all this mess.”
“It’ll be worth it,” he said, noting the spacious layout and the huge window overlooking the sink.
“You’ll have to come back when it’s all finished,” her mom said. From next to him, Norah let out a shuddering sigh.
“Subtle, Mom.”
“She’s right, Sarah, not your best work.” A man walked in and held out his hand. “I’m Greg, nice to meet you. I went to school with your dad.”
“Oh yeah? I’d appreciate some good stories,” Zac said. “He tries to make out he was a saint, but I’m not buying it.”
Greg grinned. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Would you like a soda?”
“No, I’m good,” Zac said as Norah pulled out a chair and nodded for him to sit next to her. Despite the pizza boxes, the table was set with silver cutlery, white plates with thin gold bands around them, a big water pitcher, and heavy tumblers at the top of each plate.
“So Norah’s told us about all the donations you’ve got.” Her mom flipped open one of the boxes. The room filled with the scent of cheese, tomatoes, and peppers.
“I’m just the lackey. Norah’s the one who does all the hard work.” He took a slice of pizza and carefully slid it onto his plate.
“Which would all be wasted if we didn’t have anything to auction off,” Norah said, sounding more like her regular self. “Zac’s come back from Steven Lewis’s place. You should see all the stuff he donated. It’s great.”
“Nice work,” Greg said. “It’s lucky you caught him. I heard he’s heading off again.”
Zac nodded. “He’s got a coaching job in Wales.”
“Makes sense. I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
He stiffened.
At the time, Zac thought it was cool Steven Lewis was moving back into coaching. He hadn’t even considered why he was doing it. That it was because he was a one-trick pony. Just like me. He focused on the pizza, trying not to think of the numerous certificates in Norah’s garage.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you, I’ve been going through the donation list,” Norah said, jolting him back to reality. He turned and focused on the tiny freckles across her nose. It helped push back the rising panic. “If we hit the reserve price on everything, we’re on track to get our target. Not including what you got from Steven.”
“Fifty toilets?” he said, forgetting about Steven Lewis and the freckles.
“Yes. There’s no guarantee we will get the reserves…but it’s promising.”
“Well done, Norah.” Greg beamed, then glanced over to Zac, obvious pride in his voice. “As you probably know, once she sets her mind to something, not much gets in her way.”
“I’m starting to see that,” Zac said, an uncomfortable sensation churning in his gut. Norah could survive car crashes, build toilets and schools, and all he could do was almost get kicked off the soccer team. One-trick pony.
The conversation moved onto a movie they’d watched last week and eventually onto some nineties band he’d never heard of. When he confessed it, Greg jumped to his feet.
“We need to remedy this.”
“No. We really don’t,” Norah yelped and scrambled out of her chair. “But don’t let us stop you. Go and relax. We’ll clear up.”
“Heathen daughter,” her mom said affectionately. “For that, Greg and I might have to bust out some dance moves.”
“Mom.” Norah glared and waited until they disappeared into the other room. “Sorry about that, but once they start playing music it all goes downhill.”
“Mine are the same. Though swap music for old tennis matches. Best thing you can do is ignore it,” he advised as he reached for the empty boxes and carried them into the makeshift kitchen.
She followed with the plates and stacked them into a dishwasher that hadn’t yet been fitted under the bench. Long pipes were trailing out under the sink.
“You’re right. Usually it’s not a problem since the only ones who come over are Piper and Gareth, and they’re used to it.” She looked up. Her hair was hanging over her face and she flipped it away, her cheeks bright and her mouth slightly parted.
Her highly kissable mouth.
Guilt rushed him again and he folded his arms to stop from touching her. She wasn’t on the sidelines at all. He was. She was the one out there doing great things, and all he was doing was tagging along.
“Is something wrong?” A frown crossed her brow, and she tentatively touched his arm. Sparks raced along his skin, and he sucked in a breath.
“Nothing.” He shook his head as her wide eyes blinked at him. Hell. “Did you mean it about the donations?�
�
“Of course,” she said in surprise. “Worried I was trying to make you look good in front of my mom and Greg?”
It was a little too close to the truth, and he winced. “That obvious?”
“Why would I? You assured me you’re great with parents,” she said in a teasing voice. “Wait…are you doubting your charm?”
Ha.
His so-called famous charm. He only needed to be good with words to help get out of all the messes he tended to make. Helping Norah was the one time he felt like there was more to him than just a few words and the ability to kick a ball.
“It’s nothing.” He leaned against the unfinished counter and ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it, I’m being dumb.”
Her eyes flashed, like they did every time he mentioned he was dumb. She stepped into him, standing between his outspread legs. His chest pounded.
“What’s going on?”
He forced himself to meet her gaze. “Steven Lewis said he sucked at being retired and being married. That the only thing he was ever good at was soccer. That’s why he’s moving away. It just hit me that we’re not that different.”
“You’re not him,” she said in a firm voice, her hands sliding around his waist, sending a tsunami of longing crashing through him. “You understand me?”
There’s more to you than soccer, Zac.
He sucked in some air and nodded. “I’m really pleased I met you, Norah Richmond.”
The whole reason he’d never gotten serious with a girl was because he never felt like they saw him as anything more than a jock. But this was different. And he liked it. His arms tightened around her. Her hair brushed his cheeks and warmth skittered up his arms. He searched out her mouth.
I’m not going to mess it up.
The kiss was deeper, more urgent, but she didn’t protest. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips opened to his. Something shifted in his chest. He didn’t know what he’d done to impress her—he was just glad it had worked.
13
“Run.” Zac grabbed Norah’s hand and led her around the back of the bleachers. His cheeks were glowing, and his hair was slicked back with sweat. He was still wearing his playing gear, but he’d replaced his cleats with sneakers.
