Scoring the Keeper’s Sister: Mr. Match Book 1

by Stewart, Delancey

  “Did you tell her you signed up for a dating service?”

  He blew out a laugh. “Definitely not. I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up anymore than they already are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She made a crack about grand babies the other day, and she’s been riding me for years about settling down, giving her a bigger family.”

  I thought about the concept of a big family. I liked the idea, but I had no idea what it really meant. “Did she come from a big family? Lots of siblings?”

  He nodded. “But her brothers are both dead and her sisters stayed in Colombia. They don’t speak often.” His expressive mouth turned down slightly. “I think she’s lonely sometimes. I try to spend as much time with her as I can.”

  Families were not something I could really discuss at length—I had so little experience with them. I shook my head a little and traced a circle into the sand between us.

  “Your mother didn’t have any family?” Fernando asked after a minute of silence.

  “No, no one she ever talked about. And they looked, you know…when she died. They looked for someone to take us.”

  Fernando’s fingers joined mine, drawing in the sand between us. We both lay reclined on our sides, leaning on one elbow and facing each other. The beach sprawled wide and flat for miles around us, and though we were out in the open, it felt anonymous and private here. Sea birds called and swooped over the gentle surf, and people moved nearby at the edge of the water, each in their own world.

  “That can’t have been easy for you,” he said after a moment, and his hand found mine in the cool sand, his fingers warm and soft as they traced over the top of my own.

  I found it hard to look at him, a swirl of emotions rising in my throat. I felt the loss of my mother—though I didn’t remember much about her in detail. I felt the fear of a child left adrift, without a solid foundation to depend on. I felt the rush of hope that came with the way Fernando’s hand slid beneath mine, caressing my palm. “It wasn’t easy,” I said. “But it was a long time ago.”

  “But they were able to keep you and Trace together?”

  I nodded. “They told us it might not always be that way, but we got lucky.”

  “And the families you lived with… were they…?”

  I pulled my hand back without thinking about it, and then felt the loss of his touch like a physical blow, and laughed, realizing how self-protective I’d become. This was not something I talked about often, and even though I wanted to talk to him, wanted him to know me, it was difficult.

  I looked up into his face, saw myself reflected in the shades of his glasses. “They were nice enough,” I said. “We weren’t abused. We just weren’t loved.” They were very different things, but I imagined both were hard to endure.

  “I’m glad you had each other,” he said, his voice low and sad.

  We didn’t speak for a few minutes, a quiet understanding drifting between us, and finally he cleared his throat, almost chuckling.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing, I…” he chuckled again, then looked up at me. “It’s just crazy how much I wish I could kiss you right now.”

  A warm sliver of arousal slid beneath my skin and I was surprised how much I wanted the exact same thing. “Not here,” I whispered.

  “I won’t,” he promised. “I wouldn’t until it was the right time… It’s just…” He shook his head. “You’re just…”

  I wanted him to say more, I wanted to ask what he wasn’t saying, but I didn’t have the confidence to do it. I watched his mouth for a minute more, and heard myself sigh. I wanted him to kiss me—I wanted it more than I could remember wanting anything in a long time.

  After a long tense minute, we both sat up, the spell having passed. I looked around, but still didn’t see any Sharks players nearby, which was a relief. I’d forgotten for a moment where we were, who else was nearby.

  Finally, we stood and walked back to the hotel patio, not holding hands, but allowing our fingers to brush together as we walked. To anyone observing it would have looked like an accident, but to me it felt like the most sensuous foreplay I could imagine.

  And now, all I could think about was kissing Fuerte.

  Chapter 13

  Mama Cheats at Cards

  Fernando

  After Sunday’s brunch, I could think of nothing but Erica. Even when I was with my mother after practices, Erica’s vulnerable smile and her bright eyes flooded my thoughts. I kept seeing here there on the beach, her fingers tracing circles in the sand as she told me the barest of details about her childhood.

  “Where are you, Mijo?” Mama asked as we played double solitaire on her patio in the middle of the next week.

  Erica and I had texted every night about nothing and everything, staying up late and joking back and forth while each of us stayed within the clear lines of our own lives. I understood that she had things to think about in terms of dating me—not the least of which was that she’d spent the last year or so believing she hated me. But there was also her brother and the entire team to consider. This was her job—maybe she was worried about losing it.

  “Sorry, mama,” I said. “I was just thinking about the season.”

  She made a clucking sound and shook her head. “No you weren’t.”

  I dropped my hand and looked up at her. “What?”

  “You don’t raise a boy from tiny to big by yourself and not learn when he’s lying to you.”

  I laughed. “It wasn’t a lie, really.”

  “Why don’t you want to tell me?” She launched into a coughing fit then, and worry spiked inside me. I wished we didn’t have to wait until Monday to see her doctor.

  “I’m thinking about a girl,” I said.

  She grinned at this.

  “The answer is yes,” she said.

  “How do you know what the question is?”

  “Does she like me? Should I ask her out? Should I introduce her to my mama? All answers yes.” She placed a card, though it wasn’t even her turn, and I decided not to call out my sick mother for cheating.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “For?”

  “For always believing in me. But I’m not sure this is so straightforward.”

  Mama placed another card, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “You do know it isn’t your turn, right?” Once was forgivable, but now she was just taking advantage.

  “I can play by myself, ‘Nando. You go see this girl.”

  “We’re not there yet,” I told her.

  She took my cards out of my hand and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go.”

  There was no point arguing with my mother. I’d learned that many years ago. I laughed and stood, kissing her cheek, and then told her goodnight and went out to my car.

  I texted Erica before I even turned on the engine.

  Me: Are you home?

  Erica: Yes.

  Me: Is Trace there?

  Erica: Yes, why?

  Me: Can you be outside in ten minutes without him noticing?

  Erica: Um. Okay. ??

  Me: Ten minutes.

  I was going to kiss her so I could quit thinking about it. I started the engine and pointed my car toward Mission Beach.

  Chapter 14

  Midnight Makeout

  ERICA

  I went outside, curious what Fernando had up his sleeve.

  We’d been texting all week, and the tension I’d felt between us Sunday had built into this slow burn that had me thinking of him constantly. I rarely watched when the team practiced, but this week I’d found excuses to step out onto the field a few times, just so I could see him, the broad muscles in his chest and legs flexing as he ran and leapt.

  I waited on the edge of the patio in the dark, glancing at the street that ran past the back of our house. I had no idea what he was doing, or if he’d be coming in his car or maybe walking up the boardwalk that ran by the front of our house.


  The blue Tesla pulled up almost exactly ten minutes after I’d gone out, and my heart fluttered and expanded when Fernando pulled close to the side of the tight street and stepped out, the car still running.

  I walked to where he was, coming around the back of his car. We stood facing each other for a second, and he said, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said, a small question in my voice.

  And then things happened in what felt like slow motion.

  One of Fernando’s hands slipped along the side of my face, his thumb beneath my jaw and his fingers brushing the sensitive shell of my ear. His other hand wrapped my waist, pulling me gently closer to him.

  I heard myself make a little noise of surprise, but I didn’t say anything else, because in the next second, his lips met mine and my entire body lit up from the inside.

  Fernando’s soft lips moved against mine, softly and then with building pressure, until I opened my mouth slightly and met his tongue with my own. My arms slid around him, and I stepped so close that one of his strong thighs went between my legs, giving me a hot solidity to press into.

  My heart raced and my blood felt like fire thrumming through my veins as our tongues met, teased, and tangled together while our hands learned the planes and ridges of each other’s bodies.

  It was dark, except the light of the Tesla’s headlamps and the few streetlights casting cool pools of illumination around us, and it felt like we were alone on some distant plane of existence, just the two of us.

  The kiss went on and on, ebbing and flowing, pushing and pulling, until at last Fernando’s hands loosened their grip on my body and he stepped back.

  “What…” I found I could barely speak. “What was that?”

  He smiled at me, his teeth bright white in the darkness and his eyes shining like a tiger’s. “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said. And then he kissed my forehead gently, said good night, and got back into his car, disappearing down the street.

  I stumbled back inside, past where Trace sat at the counter inhaling a bowl of cereal.

  “Oh good, you took the trash out?” He glanced at me.

  “Sure,” I answered, too stunned for more words.

  I went straight up to my room and spent the rest of the night reliving that kiss, and realizing that if I really did go out with Fernando Fuerte, there was going to be much more to look forward to than cheese.

  Chapter 15

  Ditching the Cock Block

  FERNANDO

  Kissing Erica had been everything I’d been imagining. But it had been more, too. My imagination hadn’t done her justice—the fierce way she’d gripped my back and pressed her core into my thigh. God, that had been hot. The way she’d moaned as she’d finally opened her mouth, meeting my tongue with her own—that had almost sent me over the edge right there.

  She had been warm and enthusiastic, and so completely sexy, it was all I could do to get back in the car and drive away. I just hoped I’d left her as desperate as I’d left myself.

  By the next night, neither of us could wait any longer. We’d gone out with the team after practice to McDaughtry’s, and Erica and I had been watching each other the whole night. I finally managed to get her alone at the corner of the bar for a few minutes.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling immediately lame for the non-creative start to what I hoped would be a conversation that ended with her coming home with me.

  “Hi,” she said, and the blue of her eyes immediately darkened, making me think of what they might look like beneath me as I made her come.

  “How was the rest of your night?” I asked.

  “Uh…” a pink blush tinged her cheeks. “Yeah, that was…”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” I admitted.

  Her eyes widened and the blush grew deeper. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

  “Is there any chance you’d want to maybe get out of here?”

  She glanced over my shoulder at Trace, and then back at me. “Yes. But I need a minute.”

  I watched as she went to talk to Hamish, and they both turned to look at Trace, who actually seemed pretty well behaved tonight. He tended to get goofy in the off-season, doing crazy food challenges and sometimes over-indulging in alcohol, but when we were headed into the season, he was as disciplined as any of us and it didn’t look like a big night for him.

  Hamish seemed to agree with whatever Erica said, and then she stepped close to her brother, whispering in his ear and then faking a yawn and stretch.

  Trace gave her a noogie, and then turned back to whatever intense conversation he was engaged in with Max and Hoss, and Erica picked up her purse and jacket and walked directly out the door.

  I glanced around and then followed her, every part of me desperate to catch her, to find out what this was between us.

  Chapter 16

  I’ve Been Thinking About Me…

  ERICA

  “Is there any chance you’d want to maybe get out of here?” I didn’t even have to think about my answer. The kiss Fernando had given me the night before had seriously turned my world around. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t read a sentence. It was like my whole brain had been rewired to think only about him, about the way it had felt to be in his arms, to be pressed against his body. And I needed more.

  But did that question count as asking me out?

  I could iron out semantics later. I asked Hammer to keep an eye on Trace and then pled exhaustion to my brother and dashed outside. Fernando joined me a second later, his arm going around my shoulder and pulling me close.

  “Where?” I asked. “Trace drove me, so I don’t have a car. I told him I was going to Uber.”

  "It’s not far to Coronado," he said, and it was both a question and a suggestion.

  A little thrill danced as he drove confidently across the bridge, and soon enough we were parking in the garage beneath his building.

  We walked to the elevator and as we waited for the door to open, he turned to face me. "Hey," he said, meeting my gaze. "I know we both kind of jumped into this tonight. But I want you to know—we don’t have to do anything. I just want time with you. I want to get to know you. We don’t have to rush it, but I will warn you that I might try to kiss you again.”

  “You better kiss me again,” I told him, needing some kind of resolution to the crazy tension that had built up inside me. Still, it was nice to hear him say he didn’t have expectations, that we could take things slow. It was even better to hear him say he wanted to get to know me. I'd hoped he might feel that way—it was how I felt. But I'd never had a guy be so forthright and open. Going back to someone’s place had always meant a hookup in the past. Fernando’s assurances put me more at ease. “But we’ll just see where things go after that, okay?”

  “Okay,” he agreed, as the elevator arrived.

  We stepped into the elevator and Fernando took my hand, his thumb rubbing a circle over the top of my fingers. "I've been thinking about you nonstop," he said, his voice lower now, closer.

  "Me too," I managed. "I mean, not about me." I was a moron.

  "I get it."

  We went upstairs and I looked around me with some surprise. The house Trace and I shared was nice—like nicer than any place either of us had ever dreamed of living before. But this? This place was incredible.

  Fuerte's condo took up the whole floor of the building, and his patio was more like a yard. There was a hot tub out there, and a couple trees in enormous pots. There were no other patios hanging overhead, and it almost felt like this whole building must be his, but my mind left off in its contemplations of architecture when I gazed out at the sparkling bay and the Coronado Bridge in the moonlight just beyond the hot tub. Amazing.

  The interior was furnished tastefully in a kind of modern and traditional style combined. The lines were sleek and simple, but there were warm touches everywhere—a fluffy throw, a bright vase. It was exactly what I would have chosen if I'd had any taste at all, or if I didn't live with my brother
who thought forty boxes of Kraft Mac'n cheese could be arranged artfully into a sculpture suitable for display in the dining room.

  "This is really amazing," I told him honestly.

  "Thank you." He said it simply, accepting the compliment without any false modesty. It was refreshing, and it brought my eyes to his face again. He was turning out to be nothing like I'd thought he was. A player would be showing the place off, wouldn’t he? He’d be pressuring me, eager to add a new name to his list. But Fernando hadn’t made me feel that way at all. He was reserved and polite, modest.

  “Drink?” he asked.

  I accepted one mostly because a strange case of nerves was washing through me, and holding a drink gave me something to do.

  We sat on the cozy couch in front of the windows and stared out at the bridge, not saying anything, just sipping the beers he’d pulled from the fridge.

  We didn't say anything, but after a few minutes of comfortable silence and few little exchanges about the evening or the bay, Fuerte put his drink down on the table next to him and took my hand. He pulled me to my feet in front of the window and I put my own drink down on the table behind me.

  "Erica," he said, and his voice was low, smooth and sincere. It pulled at a place inside me, low and deep and wanting.

  I didn't answer him, but my head tilted back automatically to find his eyes, and I stepped close to him. His arms slid around me and I felt one hand slide to the curve of my back, and my body responded, acting out the directions in some script it had memorized that I didn't even know about. I pressed myself against him and felt his hard length on my hip just as his lips moved nearer to mine, pausing just a breath above my mouth.

  Energy whizzed between us, atoms whirling and snapping with electricity. I could almost hear my own attraction to Fernando, it was practically living and breathing as it moved from his body to mine. "Jeez," I whispered, unable to say anything else as foreign sensations raced through me, raising every nerve in my body until I felt like this moment could be enough to satisfy me forever—but I wanted so much more.