“Now boys, no need for any of that,” a syrupy voice interrupted.
Craig got to his feet like a puppet on a string. He wrapped his arms around his wife, kissing her. “Hiya babe, you want a steak?” He ran his hand up and down her back. His gesture was territorial. He was staking a claim. Maybe Craig wasn’t as oblivious as I had thought.
Marla made a face. “You know I hate red meat. Did you get those veggie burgers I wanted?”
“I knew I was forgetting something,” Craig said, his face apologetic.
“Craig, I asked you to get me one thing. One. Thing! It’s like you don’t even care about me. If it’s your beer, you remember. But if I ask you to get something, you forget. Every single time,” she berated him.
“Babe, I’ll go out now to get your veggie burgers.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket.
“Make it quick,” she instructed. “And get another crate of the nice Pinot. The girls went through what we had.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, flashed us a sultry smile and sauntered off.
“Alan, can you watch the barbeque? I’ll just run down the store.” Craig handed Alan the spatula.
“Man, she doesn’t need veggie burgers. Come on, don’t go,” I told him. Marla really did have him by the balls. It was embarrassing.
“It’s no big deal. Can I get you guys anything?” he asked.
“Nah, we’re golden,” Shane said. Craig hurried off like his arse was on fire.
Alan got up and started tending to the meat on the grill. “Boy needs his head seeing to. I would never let a woman lead me around by the short and curlies the way Craig does.”
“Especially when she’s flashing the minge to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.” Shane shook his head.
Alan gave him a look. “It’s not like you haven’t put it there a few times yourself.”
I choked on my beer. “You’ve shagged Marla?” I asked my teammate. Shane and Craig were mates as far as I could tell. Though I wasn’t one to judge. Been there, got the backstabbing mate T-shirt.
Shane shrugged. “I was drunk. She’s fit. She was gagging for it anyway. Craig’s a twat for staying with a bitch that fucks anything that moves anyway. Plus, I doubt I’m the only one.” I could have sworn Shane’s eyes flashed in my direction. If Marla were going around wagging her tongue, I’d have to do something about it.
“He’s our teammate, Shane.” I frowned. “I’d expect you to have more decency than that.” What I meant was I thought Shane was a better bloke than I was. It was disappointing to hear he wasn’t.
Shane let out a bitter laugh. “Am I really getting a lesson on morality from Lucas Bradley? Give me a break.”
I glanced at Alan who pointedly looked away.
“I wouldn’t sleep with my friend’s wife and then brag about it,” I remarked defensively, even if I felt like a hypocrite. I couldn’t believe Shane was talking about Craig’s wife like this in the man’s house. It was beyond the pale.
“Wow, point for Lucas,” Shane muttered.
“Is that what you guys really think of me? That I’m just an arse getting his rocks off all the time?”
“Look, don’t give me shit about what I do and I will do the same.” Shane got to his feet. “I think I’m heading out. See you guys on the pitch tomorrow.”
“What the hell, Cole, thanks for having my back there,” I said sarcastically.
Alan grabbed a tray and started loading it up with steaks. “He’s not wrong. You can’t go around judging what people do when your house is hardly clean.”
“What does that even mean?” I was getting angry.
“Just drink a beer, get your junk tugged. Relax. You’re too uptight.” Alan pointed to a group of woman on the other side of the garden. “Every single one of them would give their left tit to see you naked. Now go.”
I drank the rest of my beer and threw it in the trash. “You’re right. I’m too uptight. Hand me another beer.”
TWO HOURS LATER and I was more than ready to leave. I couldn’t drink a lot, since I drove, which made being around Marla and her friends less than appealing.
“Craig, man, I’m going to hit the head and then get out of here. I’m pretty wiped.” A bunch of us were sitting around an open fire in the garden. Most were drunk. A lot of them were groping each other. I had a feeling they were a few drinks short of an all out orgy.
Normally I’d be down for whatever happened, tonight not so much.
“You should stay. Just a little longer,” Alan called out, lifting his face out of some girl’s cleavage.
“I’m knackered. I’ll talk to you later.”
I waved goodbye to everyone and made my way into the house. There was a bathroom on the ground floor but it was occupied, so I made my way upstairs to the guest bath in the hallway.
I didn’t lock the door behind me, didn’t feel the need to. That was my first mistake.
I heard the door open, air hitting me on my bare arse as I stood there taking a leak.
“Excuse me,” I said, looking over my shoulder.
Marla came into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, locking it.
“What the fuck are you doing, Marla?” I asked tiredly, knowing exactly what she was doing.
She leaned against the door and bit her bottom lip. “Why are you so mean to me, Lucas?” she asked, pouting.
I sighed. “Open the door. This isn’t funny.”
“I think we need to talk, don’t you?” she ran a finger along the hem of her short skirt.
“I don’t think you and I need to talk about anything. Now look, I’m getting out of here—”
Marla took a step towards me and pressed her palm against my chest. “We had something sort of good don’t you think?” she murmured, her eyes downcast.
I lifted her hand and dropped it to her side. “We didn’t have anything, Marla. I’m not sure what alternate universe you’ve been living in that makes you think otherwise.”
We were standing entirely too close but there was nowhere for me to go. She had essentially trapped me in the toilet.
“There’s this tension between us, Lucas. I know you can feel it.” Her fingers brushed the front of my jeans. “I think about you all the time, you know,” she whispered.
“This is really inappropriate, Marla. Now move, I’d like to leave.”
Her eyes flashed. “You don’t think about how we were together? That night was incredible.”
I sighed. Time to get hateful because she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I think about what a huge mistake it was. That’s it.”
Marla frowned. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
I lifted my hands in exasperation. “Who’s pretending? Goddamn it, Marla; stop acting like we had a relationship. We fucked. One time. I was drunk otherwise it would never have happened. Now you’re married to one of my best mates. That’s the only relationship you and I will ever have. As Craig’s fucking wife.” My voice was loud in the tiny space. She was starting to really make me angry.
Then, as if on a whim, she reached behind her and unzipped her dress, slithering out of it until it was a pile of fabric on the floor. “I want you, Lucas. Only you.”
She unhooked her bra, releasing her magnificent tits. It was common knowledge she had a boob job. Whoever her surgeon was had done a fantastic job.
Too bad she was such a bitch.
“Marla, put your clothes on. You’re making a fool of yourself.” I looked away, trying to do the decent thing.
She took my hand and pressed my palm to her breast. “Just once more. That’s all I want. You and me.” I pulled my hand away.
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Oh really?”
She took off her black panties and hopped up on the sink, spreading her legs. She began to touch herself. “I think you do want to fuck me, Lucas. I can see that you do.”
Damn it, I was getting hard.
I couldn’t help it.
There was gorgeous woman, naked and begging me to sha
g her.
“I want your cock, Lucas. I want it now.” She hooked her finger through my belt loops and tugged me forward.
“We’ll make it quick. Promise,” she whispered, unzipping my pants and slithering her hand inside to cup my junk.
I grabbed her hand and yanked it off my dick. “Get dressed. Stop humiliating yourself,” I hissed. I bent down and picked up her clothes and shoved them at her.
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened in shock. Then it faded to anger. “Is this about that woman you were waiting for? The one from the dressing room?” she demanded.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw how you looked at her. But don’t you dare go around pretending you’re some sort of decent guy. Everyone knows what kind of person you are, Lucas Bradley. And eventually that woman will too.” She hopped down off the sink and quickly put her panties and bra back on.
“I know I’m not a nice guy. I don’t pretend to be. But you’re a bitch, Marla. And even worse you have a good guy who worships you yet here are trying to fuck his friend. Don’t go around casting stones, love. Your glass house will shatter around you,” I sneered.
“You’re an asshole, Lucas.” She zipped up her dress and smoothed down her hair.
“Better that than the nasty piece of work you are, Marla.”
She gave me a cold smile. “Don’t cross me, Lucas. You’ll be sorry that you did.” She opened the door and paused. “Oh hi, Nolan.” She closed the door behind her and I was stuck.
Fucking hell, Nolan Dubois was out there. And I knew exactly what it would look like when I followed Marla out of the bathroom.
I’d be damned if I’d hide in there all night. I refastened my belt and walked out into the hallway.
Nolan stood there, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying what he thinks he witnessed.
“You were in there for a while,” he noted, looking after Marla who was heading down the stairs.
“Nothing happened.” Saying that definitely made it sound as if something had.
Frenchie grinned, as if he were in on a secret.
“I’m not saying anything did.” Nolan walked past me and into the bathroom. “I hope you wiped everything down when you were done.”
He closed the door before I could say anything else.
Just great.
Do I say something to Craig before Nolan does? Do I leave it alone?
This was chick shit. I didn’t have time for the drama.
So I pulled my keys out of my pocket and got the hell out of there.
I got on the road and headed towards home.
And then I was turning towards town. And before I knew it I had parked just down the street from Morgan’s flat.
I didn’t think about it too much, just got out of the car and started walking.
Then I realized I had no idea which apartment she lived in. I couldn’t very well go and start knocking on all the doors until I found her.
An older woman was heading into the building and I called out to her.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” I jogged to catch up to her. She looked startled at the sight of a man running towards her. She gripped her keys her hand and held the bag of groceries against her chest.
I held my hands out to try and put her at ease. “I’m looking for someone who lives here and I realized I have no idea what flat she’s in.” I gave her my nicest smile. The one that could charm a nun according to my mum.
“Oh, who is it? I’ve lived here for years, I know everyone.” The woman seemed to relax a little. The smile worked every time. Except on Morgan. She was strangely immune to it.
“Her name is Morgan Carter—”
“The pretty American girl,” the woman cut in.
I nodded. “That’s her.”
“She’s in 102. Just down the hall there. Nice girl too. Keeps to herself.” She seemed to be struggling with her bags.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I offered, moving to take the bag from her hands but she stepped back.
“No, that’s fine. You go on.” Clearly my smile only worked so far. She wasn’t going to let me follow her to where she lived, even if I was only trying to be polite.
“Thanks so much,” I said and headed down the hallway. I found 102 easily enough and knocked on the door.
Then waited.
And waited some more.
I could hear music on the other side so I knew she was home.
Then the door flew open and Morgan stood there in nothing but a robe, her dark hair wet and falling over her shoulders and down her back. She frowned. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t open the door any wider. She blocked me from getting inside. She seemed wary. On guard.
“I’m here to see you obviously.” I tried the smile on her.
It didn’t work.
“Why? I thought you’d get the point when I never met you after the game.”
I held my hand over my heart. “Ouch. That hurt.”
She rolled her eyes. “I sincerely doubt it. I don’t think your ego allows you to feel things like emotional pain.”
“Now come on, you don’t know me. I may be a very sensitive soul.” I put my hand on the doorjamb and leaned in. “Let me come in. I promise I’m very good company.”
She sighed and hesitated.
“Look, I’ve had a shit evening. I just want to talk. Maybe hang out for a little bit,” I told her sincerely.
“But why show up here then?” she asked, seeming confused.
Why had I shown up at this woman’s door? A complete stranger.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I answered honestly.
Morgan smiled. I liked the look of it on her.
“I think that’s the first true thing you’ve ever said to me.” She held the door open, allowing me room to walk inside. “Come on in. But only for a little while. It’s late.”
“Only for a little while,” I agreed.
Morgan
I had been second-guessing my decision to stand Lucas up the entire evening.
Phil brought me home and offered to come in and help me get settled.
“That’s not necessary. I think it’s just too much sun. I’ll be fine after some sleep,” I assured him.
“I don’t mind coming in. We can order some take away. You haven’t eaten much.” We sat in the car out in front of my building. We had been parked for almost ten minutes with Phil trying to insist on taking care of me. He was trying too hard. It was annoying.
“Seriously, it’s not necessary. I’m not a very pleasant sick person,” I said, my hand on the door handle ready to make my escape.
Phil leaned across the center console and twirled a piece of my hair. “I sincerely doubt that. I’d like to spend more time with you.”
Okay, this was getting awkward. I had led him on long enough.
“Phil, I really appreciate you coming with me to the game today. I don’t have many friends here, so it’s nice to add another to the list,” I told him pointedly.
Phil dropped the strand of hair and leaned back in his seat. It was obvious the message was received. Loud and clear. Phil Wickenham had been friend zoned.
His expression soured considerably. “Sure. Well you’d better go rest then.”
He didn’t get out to open the door for me. In fact he didn’t say anything else. And when I said goodbye he nodded his head, revved the engine of his car and sped off.
What a nice guy.
I went to my apartment and let myself inside. The evening stretched out ahead of me in a sort of depressing monotony.
I dug out one of the dozen international calling cards my mother had purchased for me before I moved and dialed her number.
“Hello?” She sounded as if I had just woken her up. I looked at the time. It was one in the afternoon her time. My mother never napped. Alarm bells went off.
“Hi Mom, it’s me. Were you asleep?”
“Just a little nap. I ha
ven’t been asleep that long.” I could hear her moving around as she got up. “Oh my, it’s after one. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I’ve been better,” Mom answered tiredly.
“How was the EKG?” I hadn’t been able to speak to her after the tests. I had tried calling but she didn’t answer, which wasn’t overly unusual. She often kept her cell phone on silent. I had given her hell on more than one occasion about that now that I was an ocean away, but she continued to do it.
“Long,” she replied.
“Have you gotten the results yet? It’s not like you to sleep during the day.” I sounded slightly panicked. This was the problem when I wasn’t there to see for myself how my mother was doing. And she wasn’t very forthcoming with information.
“That’s what happens when you get old, Morgan. Stop fussing. I won’t have the results until next week.” She sounded peevish.
“Will you email me as soon as you get them? Or you can call me too, you know?”
“Of course, I’ll email or call. Stop worrying. Now tell me how things are with you. Missing home?”
“Of course I am. Living here has taken some adjustment,” I admitted. The nagging homesickness was still there, though perhaps not as prevalent as it had once been.
Why was that I wondered?
A pair of blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile filled my mind.
Ugh.
“Well you always have a home here when your need for adventure is over.” My mother coughed into the phone. “Have you made any friends? Or met any nice looking men?”
My mother seemed to think it was her mission in life to marry me off as soon as possible. She had made setting me up on horrible blind dates an art form. There wasn’t a single man under the age of forty-five in the tri-county region that she hadn’t tried to push my way.
“There’s plenty of nice looking men, Mom,” I laughed.
“Any in particular? I’m not getting any younger and I’d like some grandkids before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
“I’ve been on a date or two. Nothing serious,” I told her.
“You disappoint me,” she teased and then began to cough some more. “Sweetie, I appreciate the call but I’m tired. Can we talk later?”
The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1) Page 14
