He latches onto her hand, looking at her in the eyes where she squats in front of him.
“I wike elephants. Um, zebras. Mingos!” Mason rattles off his favorite animals, ending with his abbreviated version of flamingos.
“Those are my favorite, too! I also like dogs, cats, and well, I love all animals, really.” Aria gives Mason a megawatt smile, as if they have their own little shared secret now.
And he’s eating it up. “Want get candy?”
Bloody hell, he’s asking Jude Davies’ fiancée on a date across the family suite.
Aria laughs. “Let’s do it.”
Poppy Raymond stands and makes her way over to us, tearing her eyes off the glass where she’s watching Kingston warm up. I’d like to look down and see if I can watch Vance go through his drills, but Mason is already tearing across the room with Aria, so I have to keep my eye on him.
“Hi, I’m Poppy.” She extends a perfectly airbrushed hand, as if she’s perpetually on a photo shoot.
I’ve never been a particularly starstruck or celebrity obsessed person, but my God, looking at this woman is like looking straight at the sun.
“Uh, h-hi, I’m, uh, Lara,” I stutter and blush.
She smiles as if she knows she has this effect on people. “If you saw the inside of my soul, you’d be sneering at me.”
And now I bark out a laugh. “We may have more in common than I initially realized.”
You’d have to be living under a rock if you hadn’t heard about the massive scandal rocking the modeling community right now. Poppy is one of more than two or three dozen models who had been sexually abused by a famous photographer. The incidents spanned two decades, and all the abuse was to girls who were minors at the time. Poppy was among the strongest of the voices, and she’s even started a nonprofit to help victims of abuse.
She is, in all definitions of the word, incredible.
“Anyone who manages to impress Vance has to be ace. I mean, I’ve known the guy for over a year and he still won’t throw a smile in my direction.” Poppy winks at me.
She’s way nicer than I thought she’d be. There I go, judging books by their covers again.
“Don’t worry, surly is his natural state,” I assure her.
“Who, Vance?” Aria holds hands with Mason as they return, both holding a cup full of candy.
“How’d you know?” I smirk.
“Because I love that old grizzly bear. Not like that, you know. Jude would throw a fit. I love Vance like a brother. And I cannot believe how much he looks like his dad. It’s uncanny.”
“Mummy, candy!” Mason holds his cup up to show me, and I smile down at him.
Great, he’ll be up forever tonight with all that sugar. Either that, or he’ll crash and be cranky. Good, Vance can take care of him.
“Come on, sit with us. The match is about to start,” Aria beckons me, and I follow.
These two have an instant camaraderie about them. Maybe it’s because all the men we love found each other before they found us, and we’ve been inducted into their tribe.
After setting Mason up with his candy, stuffed whale, and a book, I look down onto the field. Sure enough, the opening whistle just sounded, and the Rogue players begin to scatter into formation.
There he is, Vance Morley. Standing broad and formidable in front of the net. He’s the anchor of the squad, the one who keeps them grounded and steady, and I can’t imagine any other job in the world for him aside from this. The gorgeous, intimidating, brick wall of a man with the laser-focused expression.
Blimey, my heart does a backflip staring at him.
“Come on, Jude,” Aria chants under her breath, and a quick glance at Poppy and Aria confirms their eyes are seeking their own men.
The first half goes by in a flash of lightning, with Jude scoring one goal, Kingston scoring the other, and Vance fending off three shots on goal.
Mason is practically asleep in my lap, and Aria gets up to fetch me a sandwich and drink during intermission.
“Is it … do you love being a mum?” Poppy asks, eyeing Mason where he snoozes against my chest.
I nod, careful not to jostle him. “It’s the best and hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Aria returns with my refreshments before Poppy and I can delve further into the conversation. “Look, they’re starting back up.”
With Mason asleep, I can turn more of my attention to stalking Vance on the pitch below. He’s so calculated in his movements, so precise and skilled in every way when it comes to this game. I see it now, why he’s so dedicated. Not only is this game his lifeblood, but the game needs him. He’s too brilliant at football for it to let him go.
“Oh my God!” I cry, careful to shush the end of my outburst so as not to wake Mason.
Vance nearly missed a shot on goal by a fingertip’s length, but used the extra oomph of his falling body to save it. Bugger, that was close. The match drags but also flies by. It’s an odd sensation, feeling like each minute is the length of a year but also checking the game clock and seeing them tick by.
As they reach the end of the ninety-minute mark, I turn to Aria, who is biting on her nails. Rogue has a two goal lead, but anything can happen now.
“I hope there isn’t a lot of stoppage time,” Poppy remarks.
She doesn’t seem as invested in the sport as Aria and I are, gripping the edge of our seats, but I send up a prayer that her wish comes true.
Three minutes flash on the big board on one side of the stadium, and I blow out a breath. I’ve watched enough of Vance’s matches to know that isn’t a horrid amount of extra time.
“Come on, mates, just hold this one,” Aria mutters under her breath.
I can barely watch, peeping through the hand that’s slapped over my eyes. Because while Aria might be cheering on the squad, this rests on Vance’s shoulders. The rest of the team has done their job, scoring goals and putting Rogue on top. Vance is the one who has to stop any attempts, who has to guard against goals being scored.
Time ticks down. Two minutes and thirty seconds. Two minutes. One minute and thirty seconds.
Vance bounces on the balls of his feet, shifting back and forth in the net and spreading his hands as if he’s ready for anything that might come his way.
Just when I think we’re in the clear, that Rogue has won with just twenty seconds left to go, the opposing team lines up with a quick three passes and—
Shoots right toward Vance and the net.
I swear, time stops.
With catlike reflexes, Vance picks a direction and lunges his body in it.
And thankfully, his decision is spot on. The football bounces off of his abs, those beautiful sculpted muscles, and rolls onto the grass in front of him. Players run for it, cleats aimed directly at Vance’s face, but he doesn’t pay the danger any mind. Pushing off the ground and springing low across his area, he falls on the ball, scooping it to him like a precious baby.
The whistle goes off. The end of the match.
“They won!” I jump up, pulling a grumpy, half-sleeping Mason with me and cheering.
“Mummy,” he protests, rubbing his eyes.
I ignore him, kissing his cheek emphatically. “They won the football match, love!”
Today was a big test for Vance, and he passed. It may not mean a thing, but he bloody won, took his team to victory.
“Great win for Vance.” Aria comes in to hug me, and Poppy gives me a genuine smile.
We all wait in the family room for the men to come up, and about half an hour later, they do.
“Won the match!” A now wide awake Mason says as Vance comes toward him.
“That we did, chap.” He tosses Mason in the air and then rests him on one hip.
I know it’s daft, right in front of my child who doesn’t yet know this man is his father, but I press up on my toes and plant a kiss on Vance’s lips. It may be the three-piece, charcoal gray suit he’s donned, or the way the ink-black tie around his neck matches
his eyes.
“Way to go, keeper.”
He smirks. “Could get used to that post-match ritual.”
“You lot want to come to over for a pint?” Jude asks, and I sense he may be warming up to me.
Not that I’ve had much more contact with his mates after Vance brought them to the pub by my school, but I have a feeling what Aria says goes. And she seems to like Mason and me, so Jude will have to like us, too.
“Little mate, good to meet you.” Kingston bends down, extending his fist to Mason for him to bump it.
Instantly, my son does, thinking it’s hilarious. Well, I guess that Kingston Phillips charm works on both genders.
“I’m a little knackered,” I say, the adrenaline leaving my bones and leaving the need for a good rest.
It’s been a long match, and I’m spent.
“We’ll go back to the hotel, maybe catch you a little later.” Vance’s voice says there is no questioning this decision.
Neither Jude nor Kingston push him on it, and I realize this is how the dynamic in their group works. They know Vance very well.
Vance slings an arm around my shoulder, with Mason still in his arms, and steers us through the maze-like hallways of the building.
The second we push out of the rear exit doors, the onslaught begins.
“Vance, have you been paying child support?”
“What does your ex think of your dates with Poppy Raymond’s friend?”
“Who has sole custody?”
“Can we get DNA test results?”
“What does your ex-fiancé think of you spending time in London with Vance Morley?”
By the time we get through the crowd, my hands are clamped around Mason’s ears and he’s half-buried in my coat. That was like walking through a minefield, with bombs detonating every time we took a step. My skin seems to be singed and scratched, my heart torn to pieces by the shrapnel of ugly, ugly words.
Vance is practically shaking me as we get into the back of the limo. “Lara, are you okay? Lara?”
I blink, because I can’t speak right now or I’ll cry. When Mason pulls his head up, I attempt a smile but it feels wonky.
“I wasn’t prepared …” I trail off, because the shock of it is still pulsing in my system.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants, crushing both of us to his chest.
We stay like that, a little unit, as the car races through the streets of London. Those people, they were so full of spite. They don’t even know us, have no idea the nature of our co-parenting, romantic relationship, the vulnerability of our son … and yet, they seem to think it’s their business. Why is the world the way it is?
“I set up a high tea reservation … we don’t have to go, though. I know it’s not great timing, that was rough.” Vance’s eyes are dark and hard as flint as he pulls back.
And in the midst of all this, he set up a date for us. Vance Morley, the most unromantic man I’ve ever met, took the time to set up a date for me. In London of all places.
What is this world?
“I think, I mean.” I shake my head, trying to clear the funk those paparazzi planted in there. “Who will watch Mason?”
“Actually, I already asked Aria. She’s waiting at the hotel now. I wanted to surprise you.”
On one hand, I didn’t think I could even let Mason out of my arms now. All I want to do is shelter him from every vile thing in the world, to erase all the rubbish being said about his parents. About his biology.
On the other, here is the man I’ve been asking to prove himself to me, proving himself to me. Vance did not do hearts and flowers, yet here he is doing it. I shouldn’t take that lightly.
My head is such a mess of confusion, I don’t even know if I can make a choice.
“We don’t have to go.” Vance waves it off, but I can feel the defeat in his voice.
I’m the one who chose to keep Mason from him. And yet, he’s never once told the media that. He’s just taken their attacks, and I have a feeling their barbs are worse than he’s ever let on to me.
“No, let’s do it. We’re in London. Together. I want to have tea.”
* * *
An hour later—after we’ve gotten Mason settled with Aria and I’ve given her all of the important information and numbers, and subsequently gone mental having to leave my child with a person who’s never watched him before—Vance pulls out my chair in the poshest tea room I’ve ever seen.
The wallpaper is floral and beautiful; the chairs tufted with gold accents, and all the china on the table is real and dainty.
“Vance, this is lovely,” I tell him because it is.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Blimey, is that a blush? Is Vance Morley, the iron giant, happily embarrassed? It’s almost too adorable for words.
The server brings the two pots of tea we ordered to try, and a spiraling sandwich tray that belongs in a five-star restaurant, in front of me.
“So, this is London.” I chuckle.
I’ve been once or twice with Mum, but barely remember those visits now. No, I’ve always been a Brighton girl, the kind who is more comfortable in beachside eateries and flip-flops than high heels and chic nightclubs.
“The one and only. So, did you enjoy the match?” he asks.
I realize we haven’t even spoken about it since my only congratulations in the family suite. Ah, to be a parent. Forgetting half of the things you’re supposed to think about to focus on your child.
Humbling myself, because football has always been a hotbed issue between us, I take a deep breath.
“I see now why you dedicate so much time to the sport. You’re not just a natural, Vance. I could tell, even from up in that suite, that you love it. The rush, the precision, you’re so … I’m not sure I can find a word. This game is your calling.”
Intense mocha eyes assess me. “I used to think that. Now, I’m not so sure.”
He pours me some tea out of the pot; the steam billowing over the sides of the cream-colored floral teacup. Then, Vance selects a sandwich, because apparently doubt doesn’t steal a man’s ability to eat. Nothing seems to steal a man’s ability to eat.
“You were brilliant out there. I know I haven’t been supportive in the past of football, maybe I’ve tainted it in your eyes in that way. But, you should have seen Mason, Vance. He was so excited, so proud of you. The fact that you have known what you wanted to do since you were his age, and you’re actually achieving it, it’s magnificent.”
The usually self-assured, stoic, ridiculously attractive man sitting across from me has a look on his face like I’ve just said the exact right thing he needed to hear.
His large, dexterous fingers find my leg, massaging the fabric just over my knee. Instantly, a flush runs through me.
“Enough about football. Try your tea,” Vance urges.
I take a sip of tea and then feel his hand moving up my thigh. The path of heat that radiates from his palm into my jeans is scintillating. The cool mint of the tea mixed with the temperature of it in my mouth, and his hand grazing up my leg, touching my hip …
Oh, so this is why he brought me to tea. Not that I care, it’s been almost four days since I woke up to him in my bed Christmas morning, and I haven’t been able to calm the raging storm of lust inside me since.
“Do you want to meet me in the bathroom?” Vance’s eyebrow raises a fraction, and I know that for him, this is the epitome of flirting.
“Yes,” I answer, almost breathless.
Who knew that when I agreed to a night in London, it would end in high tea and a bathroom shagging?
30
Lara
“And his nappies are in here, he likes to sleep with the green blanket, not the blue—”
“Love, they’ve got this.” Vance’s gentle voice and touch at my elbow interrupt the minor breakdown I’m having.
Roberta and Clive Morley regard me with patient smiles, and to be fair I shouldn’t even be grilling thes
e kind people. They’ve only known about their grandson for a short while, and in that time, have come to love and cherish him like the light of their world. Roberta dotes on him hand and foot, sewing him blankets and stocking his favorite snacks. Kip sneaks him cookies before dinner and has taught him everything there is to know about rugby, much to Vance’s chagrin.
Mason’s new grandparents love him so much it’s almost tangible, and I’m the one who kept them from doing so for so long. I should be thanking them on my knees for being so forgiving, and for not putting up more of an argument when I did eventually allow them to meet Mason.
“Lara, he’s going to be spoiled rotten. Do not worry. We’ll still brush his teeth and feed him vegetables, but he’ll know more love this weekend than there might be in the entire world. Have fun. Take a few days off. You kids deserve it.”
Roberta palms my cheek in a motherly way, and smiles fondly at Vance.
This will be the first time I’ve ever been away from Mason for more than a night, and I am going mental.
When Vance proposed we get away for the short break he has, I couldn’t refuse. Three days with no one but Vance to get more acquainted than we already are? Count me in.
But really, I’m going for the all-expenses paid drinks and massage I was promised. Vance, who I now refer to as the king of wooing, planned the entire trip to the Canary Islands with the sole purpose of lavishing me in relaxation. When I asked why, he told me I’d been in the trenches with Mason since the beginning, and I deserved a good vacation. Swoon.
“Okay, then, I guess this is it, love.” I bend to my son, who has been ignoring all of us in favor of his Buzz Lightyear action figure.
“Bye-bye, Mummy,” he says in that sweet little voice of his as he leans in to let me kiss his forehead.
Vance bends down beside me. “Be good for Pa and Nana, all right? Love you, Super Boy.”
The Mighty Anchor: Rogue Academy, Book Three Page 16
