“You’re Lucas Bradley! Oh my god!” the teenage boy behind the counter exclaimed.
“Hiya. How are you?” I asked.
“Oh my god, I’m such a fan.” The grabbed a tablet of paper and a pen and all but shoved them at me. “Can I have your autograph? My dad will never believe that I met you.”
“Sure.” I scribbled my name. I glanced over at Morgan and she rolled her eyes.
“Can I have a picture too?” he squeaked.
“Um. Okay. But I’d really like to order first.”
“Sure. I’m really sorry. Of course. What can I get you?”
I rattled off our order and the kid punched it in. I noticed his hands were shaking. When he was finished he got out his phone. I leaned over the counter so we were almost cheek-to-cheek and he quickly took a selfie.
“Do you mind if I post this on Instagram?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Go for it, mate.” I picked up my coffee and Morgan’s tea and headed back to the table.
“You’re so patient with people. I think I’d pull my hair out if I was barraged all day long for pictures and autographs,” she commented, dumping sugar into her tea.
“You want some tea with that sugar?” I joked, handing her the milk.
“I can’t quite get the sugar and milk ratio right. It’s harder than it looks,” she said, stirring the milky liquid in her mug.
“It looks like gnat piss,” I observed.
“I don’t want to talk about my crappy tea making skills, I want to know why you’re so distracted today. You didn’t even comment when my boob almost popped out of my shirt earlier.”
My eyes widened. “It did? No way! I would have noticed that.”
Morgan laughed and I realized she was messing with me. “Not funny. You can’t use your tits against me like that. It’s wrong.”
The boy from behind the counter brought over a plate of donuts and a few other things I hadn’t ordered.
“I didn’t order these,” I told him. I wondered if the boy was slow.
“I know. They’re on the house. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my favorite football player. Chester is lucky to have you.” He put the plate down on the table and hurried off before I could thank him.
“That was nice of him,” Morgan stated, picking up one of the donuts and taking a bite.
“Yeah, it was. Shame I can’t eat any of it. Strict no carb diet until Thursday.” I patted my belly and pushed the plate in front of Morgan so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat any of it.
“They really love you around here,” Morgan observed. She indicated the boy who was staring at us openly.
“They’ll have someone new to freak out over soon enough.” I tried not to sound bitter, but I did. I couldn’t help it. It was my guilt talking. My irritation that Mo had me thinking about leaving the city I now called home. That money was making me second guess everything. And mostly I hated being a person that was motivated by it.
“Okay, so what’s that about?” she asked, wiping sugar off her lips. I wanted to suck it off, but not with the boy watching everything we did.
“Mo sent over an offer from another club today. A big one. One that’s offering me a lot of money to play for them come January,” I found myself telling her.
Morgan took a slow drink of her tea. “And you’re thinking of taking the offer,” she deduced.
I dropped my voice low, feeling like I was being overheard. “I promised my teammates I wasn’t going anywhere. I told Anna we’d stay in Chester until she graduated. I can’t up and leave everyone. I have obligations.”
Morgan leaned her chin in her hand and regarded me. I liked the way she looked at me. There was no adoration in her gaze. She wasn’t star struck. She only saw me. A man. Nothing else.
Being seen for who you are is a powerful thing. It can make you think things you’d never dreamt of before.
Like commitment. And a future.
“But you’re thinking about it. Leaving Chester,” she whispered. I appreciated her discreetness.
I ran my hands over my face. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a lot of money.”
She didn’t ask how much.
“Does the money matter that much to you?” she asked softly.
“You have to understand that I’m a guy who grew up with nothing. My mum had to scrape and save for everything. My dad took off when I was young, leaving Mum to do it all on her own.” The mention of my father had me fuming again.
Morgan got up and moved her seat so it was beside mine. She leaned her head on my shoulder. I could smell her shampoo. It was strangely calming. I found myself relaxing into her, not realizing I was even doing it.
“That’s not all,” I found myself saying to her. She looked up at me attentively.
“My sperm donor is trying to sell information about me to the fucking Mirror. Stupid shit like my school reports and behavior plans from when I was bloody five. But he’s also trying to say that Mum has been using my money to support him. Has been for years.” I realized I was shaking. The thought of my mother betraying me like that was too much. I couldn’t face it. Not from her.
“Don’t,” Morgan said sharply.
“What?” I frowned.
“Don’t doubt your mother based on hearsay. Has she not always been a great mother?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she has.”
“Have you ever had reason to think she still kept in contact with your dad?”
“No, but it doesn’t mean she hasn’t,” I argued.
“Do you have a good relationship with her?” she prodded.
“We do. The best. She’s always been my biggest supporter.”
Morgan gave me a light slap on the cheek. “Then don’t you dare question the woman unless you have hard proof. And probably the best way to get that is to go to the source. Call her. Ask her about it.”
I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her. “You’re right. Damn you.” I could feel her laughing against my chest and I found myself smiling, even though I was stressed and feeling guilty, and angry as hell at my dad.
She made me smile in the middle of all that.
Morgan Carter was something kind of special.
“As for the offer, you have to go with what your gut says. Don’t listen to your agent. Or your teammates. Or your coach. Or even your family. Listen here.” She tapped my gut. “And here.” She then tapped my temple. “And maybe a little here.” She placed her palm over my heart. “It will all fall into place.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
She leaned up and kissed me. There was passion there. But there was something deeper. Something intense. Something I wasn’t prepared for.
It felt a lot like falling.
“I trust that it will. You should too,” was all she said.
I wasn’t sure I could believe that, but I was starting to trust her.
And that was something pretty amazing.
Morgan
“I’d be tying him down. There are too many other women out there ready and waiting to snatch him up,” Hayley stated, stretching her legs out in front of her.
We were sitting on a bench outside eating our lunch instead of going to the pub per usual. I still couldn’t get used to drinking a pint at lunch the way my co-workers did. The few times I attempted it I was practically asleep at my desk by early afternoon.
I had slowly come to be a part of the CFL community. Hayley and I were legitimate friends and I got on well with at least a dozen other people.
And even if I still struggled with doing my online grocery shopping—trying to figure out that toilet paper was called toilet tissue had taken me much longer than it should have—I was slowly acclimating to life in the UK.
Then there was Lucas Bradley.
He had been unexpected. Unwanted too if I was being honest. Now I had become all too used to our nightly phone calls after he finished training and his random visits when he had a few hours or two.
I fel
t myself bristle at Hayley’s comment, mostly because it was something I had spent entirely too much time thinking about myself.
The women loved Lucas.
And I didn’t blame them. He was gorgeous. And talented.
The truth was falling for Lucas terrified me. Because I knew that loving him would never be simple. His heart belonged first to his team. To the sport he had chosen to devote his life to. And the fans were possessive of him.
He didn’t only belong to me. He never would. He belonged to everyone. And that was something that my heart just couldn’t accept. Not yet anyway.
Would it ever?
I had never been a jealous person, but being with Lucas made it hard to not be.
“Three weeks. We’ve been dating three weeks. Not three years, Hayley,” I reminded her.
“Three weeks is forever when you’re dating a celebrity, Morgan.” Hayley handed me the bag of potato chips—sorry, crisps— she had gotten from the canteen.
“You’re not coming to the pub?” Andrew called out as he and a group that consisted of Mark, Phil, Libby, Clara, and Charlie left the office building.
“We’re staying here today,” Hayley told him.
I noted how Phil refused to look at me. In fact he hadn’t so much as said hello since our ‘date.’ I had never confronted him about the ridiculous things he was saying about me afterwards, but once I started dating Lucas openly he was made to look like the liar he was. Apparently he didn’t appreciate that.
That was fine. I didn’t want anything to do with him anyway.
“Oh Morgan, come on. It won’t be the same without you,” Clara pleaded.
“Yeah, come on, Morgan,” Libby piped up.
Hayley and I exchanged a look.
“Uh, no thanks. I’m going to hang around here. I have to finish up the final budgets before I leave today.”
“Well as long as you promise to get drinks with us later.” Libby wagged her finger and Clara nodded like a bobble head.
“Maybe,” I replied non-committedly.
“Ta.” Clara wiggled her fingers and I awkwardly waved back.
“What in the hell was that?” I asked after they had left.
Hayley unwrapped her tuna fish and sweet corn sandwich and handed me half. I had been completely grossed out when I had seen Hayley eating the combination weeks ago but then I had tried it and now I was slightly addicted to it. “That was some serious ass kissing is what that was.”
“But why would they be kissing my ass?” I asked in confusion. I took a bite of the sandwich.
Hayley looked at me as if I were a moron. “Because you’re dating Lucas. And Clara and Libby are two of the biggest goal diggers I have ever met. Though the closest they’ve ever come to bagging a footballer was the time they had a threesome with some National League player I had never heard of.”
“They had a threesome? No way!” I gaped, taking a drink of my soda.
“They sure did. From what I’ve heard it wasn’t the first time either.” Hayley finished her sandwich and started on her cherry bakewell tart, another new favorite of mine.
“And they had the audacity to call me a slag?” I shook my head.
“Us Brits are a judgmental lot,” Hayley chuckled.
“Don’t insult yourself by lumping all of you with the likes of Libby and Clara,” I scolded.
My phone ran and I picked it up, seeing a close up of Lucas’ eyeball flash across the screen. He had taken the picture with my phone at some point and had assigned the photo to his name in my contact list. He had laughed way too hard about the whole thing.
“Oh, is that Lucas?” Hayley asked.
“Yes it is. Sometimes I think you get more excited about him calling me than I do,” I teased.
“That’s because I’m living vicariously through you.” Hayley batted her eyelashes and I threw my balled up napkin at her face.
I answered the phone before it went to voicemail. “Hey you.”
“Hiya, love. How are you on this fine day?”
Hayley leaned in close, trying to hear Lucas’s side of the conversation and I had to push her back playfully. She stuck out her tongue.
“I’m pretty good. How about you?”
Lucas sighed. “Well, I call bearing bad news.”
“That sounds ominous,” I said.
“It is. I know I told you that I’d take you out to dinner tonight but there’s been a change of plans.”
My stomach dropped in disappointment. With Lucas’ schedule it was hard to see each other. It was usually only in stolen hours late at night when we couldn’t do much more than have sex and fall asleep. Having a proper date was next to impossible. So when Lucas had said we could go out to dinner after training tonight I had been more than a little excited.
But I wouldn’t let him know how let down I was. It wasn’t his fault. And it was part of the deal when I had signed on to date a professional soccer player.
“That’s fine. We can reschedule. I’ll see you some other time.”
“No, we’re still seeing each other,” Lucas said.
“Oh. Good.” I started smiling.
“Aww,” Hayley cooed.
I waved her away. “Then what’s the change in plans?”
Lucas sighed again. “My teammate Craig Denham has been busting my nuts about having us over for a dinner party. I’ve put him off for as long as I can without being a dick. It seems tonight is the night.”
“I’d love to meet your teammates. I think it sounds great.” I didn’t understand why Lucas was being so doom and gloom about it.
“Why do you sound so miserable at the idea? Are you embarrassed of me or something?” I joked, though there was a note of seriousness in my tone. My self-esteem had never suffered before. And while Lucas made me feel beautiful and important, there was still a voice in the back of my head that told me I wasn’t enough for a guy like him. That I never would be. I wasn’t a model. Or a pop star. Or rich. I was ordinary.
“Don’t be daft, Morgan. That’s not it at all,” Lucas replied softly. “It’s Craig’s wife, Marla—”
“Ah, Marla. Yes, I remember her well. I see now why you’re less than thrilled.” I hadn’t seen Marla since the away match in London and that was fine by me. After her bitchiness at the club in Soho, she was the last person I wanted to spend time with.
“Craig is a good mate though. I just hate his wife.”
“Who else will be there? Because if it’s just Craig and Marla I might be coming down with the flu,” I laughed.
Hayley was listening to the whole conversation with considerable interest.
“Who’s Marla?” she mouthed.
“I’ll tell you later,” I mouthed back.
Lucas laughed too. “Most of the team will be there, so there will be plenty of buffer. But it’s not just Craig who’s hassling me about meeting you. I think most of the lads don’t believe that you’re real.”
“I guess I’d better show them otherwise then.”
“So I’ll pick you up around seven thirty? Training is until six tonight.”
“Sounds good.” I was going to meet his teammates. The thought made me nervous. I got the sense this was a big step for us. For our relationship. It was up there with meeting the family.
“Okay, I’ll see you then. And Morgan—”
“Yeah?”
There was a moment of silence. “Never mind. I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”
What was he going to say?
I didn’t get to ask because we hung up after that.
“You’re going to Craig Denham’s house tonight?” Hayley squealed.
“I guess so.” I put my phone back in my bag.
“I’ve had a crush on him for years. I hated when he married that woman.”
“That would be Marla,” I added.
“And you don’t like Marla,” Hayley surmised.
“Not really. I met her in London. She’s a total bitch. And she’s way too touchy feely with Lucas. I m
ay have to take her eyes out if she tries that crap tonight.”
Hayley cackled in delight. “Oh, a cat fight! Please bring me! I want to see!”
“Well, if anything every happens, I’m pretty sure it’ll turn up on the internet anyway.”
I WAS NERVOUS.
Really nervous.
Lucas and I arrived at Craig Denham’s enormous house a little after nine, even though we were supposed to be there at eight. I hadn’t been quite ready when Lucas showed up at my house. I had more than a little trouble figuring out what to wear. Lucas hadn’t been clear on the dress code.
“Is this alright?” I had asked him when I let him in. I had chosen a dark pair of skinny jeans and an off the shoulder sweater. I was trying to be dressy casual but I wasn’t sure I had succeeded. I left my hair down and wore a little makeup. I had seen the way the other WAGs dressed and I knew that I could never be up to that standard, but I hoped I didn’t look too bad.
Lucas had cupped my face and kissed me softly. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Morgan. Always are.”
My legs had gone weak and I felt a fluttering in my chest. “I know I’m not as pretty as Marla and her friends—”
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to that lot. Everything they are is fake. Fake tan. Fake tits. Fake nose. They wouldn’t know real if it bit them in their fake arses. You are everything they’re not. And that’s a compliment,” Lucas had said sharply.
“I can put on a dress,” I offered, still feeling like I was seriously lacking in the looks and wardrobe department.
Lucas ran his hands up my sweater, his fingers cold against my skin. “Why don’t you take this off first. I can’t get a sense of things unless you’re naked.” He had kissed the hollow of my throat and I turned to Jell-O.
“We don’t have time—” I had started to say but Lucas had already taken off his shirt and was unzipping his pants.
“We always have time for this,” he argued.
Then his hands were on my breasts and his mouth was on mine and I forgot about what I was going to wear.
And when he bent me over the couch and entered me from behind, I didn’t care about whether I was as pretty as the other wives and girlfriends because all that mattered was that Lucas wanted me.
The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1) Page 27
