by K. Bromberg
“Not anymore. Any friend of Rory’s is family to us,” Archibald says in that deep baritone of his.
“Go on, make a wish,” Helen says.
When I close my eyes, I wish the only other wish I’ve ever had other than to save my mum: I wish to play for Liverpool F.C. someday.
And it’s only after I blow the candles out and Rory grumbles how full he is that Helen hands a wrapped present to me.
“What birthday is complete without a gift?” Archibald says as Rory smirks in his seat across from me.
“You’ve already done more than enough. I can’t accept anything else.”
“Go ’head, mate. I promise you’ll love it,” Rory says.
I open the package and stare at the same set of boots that I was madly wanting hours before. Bloody hell. What do I say?
“I can’t—this is too much. Thank you, but—”
“Nonsense, son. One of the best footballers I’ve seen play in a long while deserves to have the best for his feet,” Archibald says.
“These are expensive. Thank you, but like I said, I can’t accept them.”
“You can and you will,” Archibald says with a finality that silences the room. “Tell him, Helen. Tell him what you asked me earlier this week.”
Both Rory and I look back and forth from his dad to his mum before Helen finally speaks. “We want you to think of this place, this house, our family, as your home. Rory’s never had a brother before and Archibald says you’re without a family. That you need a steady family to help you on the field as well . . . and we want you to know, we’ve really loved having you here the few times Rory has brought you home and”—she smooths her hands down her thighs as if she’s nervous—“I’m rambling. I don’t mean to and I don’t want to overstep, but we want you to stay here with us over the holidays and when you have breaks from the academy or any time things get too crazy where you’re staying.”
My head spins at the offer. At the sense of normalcy and home and warmth I feel when I’m in this house. At having someone like Rory in my life who looks out for me.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” she says, eyebrows raised and hope in her eyes. “I always wanted to have two boys. It was my dream, but I was unable to have any more children after Rory and so . . . I don’t know, but when Archibald suggested this, I thought maybe this is God’s way of giving me two boys.” Her smile—there’s something about the warmth in it that reminds me of my mum in this moment. I’d do anything for it to remain so I can remember her a little bit more.
God, I miss her.
God, I miss . . . a sense of belonging. Of not being alone.
I clear my throat. Uncertain what to say.
“I’m good with it, if you are, mate,” Rory says with a nod.
“Sure, yeah. I don’t know what to say other than thank you . . . but I still can’t keep the boots.”
And by God, when Rory and I left there two hours later, I had the box with the boots in them stuffed under my arm and my head a whirlwind of thoughts.
“Come with me?” Rory asks when the sidewalk splits and I take a step toward the dormitories.
“Where?” I ask.
“To have a smoke.”
“You know I don’t smoke.”
“Not that kind of smoke, Rush. The other kind that makes everything speed up and feel good.” He shifts on his feet, shoves his hands in his pockets, and lifts his brows as I stare at him in shock. He’s a policeman’s son. I don’t know why I figured a policeman’s son would never do that. “Go drop your boots off. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Nah. No thanks.” I finally break free from the shock to respond. “I have shit to do.”
“C’mon, don’t be a sod, Rush. If we’re going to be brothers, mate,” he says with a wink, “it’s time you know all my secrets.” His laugh floats through the night.
“No judgment here,” I say.
“Sometimes I just need a release to deal with ’em. Being perfect can be daunting.” He cuffs me on the shoulder. “Good thing you can be that for both of us now.” Another laugh as he takes a few steps backward. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I force a smile and watch Rory jog the opposite way, wondering how the fuck he can give one hundred percent on the field tomorrow after getting high tonight.
How he could disrespect his parents by doing that shit after everything they’ve done for him?
Everything I would give anything to have.
LENNOX
“MS. KINCADE?” I TURN TO look over my shoulder to where Cannon’s assistant is standing with her hands clasped in front of her and a soft smile on her face.
“Oh, hi, Maggie. I didn’t see you there. What is it?”
“Mr. Garner is looking for you. He says the presentation will start soon and he wanted to make sure you were by his side.”
“Oh, yes. Sure.” I look back to the general managers of two MLS teams I was just speaking with. “If you’ll excuse me. I definitely want to finish this conversation after dinner.”
“Perfect. I’m more than interested to hear your thoughts on the state of the league,” one of them says.
“He’ll meet you backstage momentarily,” Maggie says as she points to a small hallway that leads toward the back of the small conference area.
“Great. I’ll run to the ladies’ room and then meet him there.”
Tonight’s function is Cannon’s attempt to wine and dine potential advertisers and sponsors by having them all in one place with the coaches and management of each team in the league. Of course, Rush is the big draw—as well as the ever-constant murmuring over whether he’s here to play for good—and he will be unveiling the league’s new marketing plan for the coming season.
Lucky for me, I haven’t had much contact with Rush though, because that man is absolutely stunning in a black tuxedo. Like stop-and-stare, pick-your-jaw-up-off-the-floor stunning.
I make my way toward the back of the ballroom of sorts and startle when I look up to see Finn standing there.
“Look at you all dressed up and with nowhere to go,” he says with that condescending grin on his lips.
“Go to hell, Sanderson.” It takes everything I have not to barrel through him—because he’s the last person I want to see right now—but I know I need to play this cool. His unexpected appearance tells me he’s worried about me stealing Rush.
Good. He should be.
“I’m sensing some hostility, Lennox.”
“And I’m sensing an agent who’s a little fearful that his plan to oust me from a project failed and now he’s worried that I just might steal his prized client away.”
“I don’t have any prized clients.”
“Ouch.” I twist my lips and stare at him. I know this game. Downplay your athlete as not important to make the temptation to steal him that much less. “I wouldn’t let Rush hear you say that.”
“Talking about me to him, I presume?”
“I have better things to waste my time on than talking about you.” I give him a killer smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”
“I guess the question I should ask is if you’ve slept with Rush yet?” His words stop me in my tracks just as I move past him.
What the hell?
I’m shocked at how brazen he is but when I turn to face him, my expression shows nothing of the sort. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you sleep with clients before you steal them—maybe as a way to steal them because that’s all you have to offer them? So if you haven’t fucked Rush yet, then I have nothing to be worried about.” The look he levels me with is pure condescension and it takes everything I have not to haul off and punch him.
“When did you become such an asshole?” I narrow my eyes as I try to comprehend.
He shrugs. “Can’t blame an agent for coming to see for himself whether you’re up to your usual.”
“I mean, I used to actually like you. Did all that money and power you’v
e gained over the years not compensate enough for how small your dick is?”
He chuckles loudly as I take another step toward the door, and I know his lack of a snappy comeback means he’s secretly freaking out that my sister, Chase, said something to me about him—or lack thereof.
Perfect.
Serves him right.
But it doesn’t do anything to quiet my scattered thoughts as I walk down the hallway toward the restroom. Did he really just say that? Did he—
I yelp as someone grabs my arm from behind and pulls me into a small room off the main hall. But my fear doesn’t last long when Rush’s lips smother the sound as he pushes me against the door he just closed.
My hands pound against his chest in reaction to being scared to death, while my lips react and take the kiss he’s owning my lips with. The kiss I’ve craved and thought about over and over despite telling myself I can’t have.
There’s hungry desperation in it. Carnal desire. When his tongue touches mine, I feel it all the way from my fingers to my toes.
And his hands. I missed the feel of them. How they touch me with equal parts reverence and urgency.
As much as I want to beg him not to stop, I inhale a shaky breath when he does. We’re standing inches apart, the need and want and lust we feel for each other more than apparent in the ragged sounds of our breaths filling up this small, darkened room.
“Rush.” Get your thoughts about you, Lennox. “We can’t—I can’t do this.” Finn could be outside this door.
“We just did. And we still can.” He laughs as confusion blankets his face.
“No, we can’t. Argh!” I step around him and take a few steps to gain some distance and hopefully my senses.
“Why can’t we?”
“Because of Cannon. And Finn. And . . . We just can’t.”
“What the fuck do Cannon and Finn have to do with who either of us sleep with?” Then almost as if something hits him all at once he staggers a step back. “It’s Cannon, isn’t it? You want Cannon instead of me.”
“Oh my God. No.” I laugh, completely taken aback by his assumption. “It’s not because I want Cannon. It’s . . . it’s complicated, and I have to go right now because of course, I have to stand out there with Cannon and introduce you to the guests. To top it off, I don’t want Finn to see us leave here and—”
“Finn’s here?” he asks, clearly surprised when I nod. “Then I guess you better start talking fast.”
“Rush.” His name is a sigh of resignation.
“Tell me why, Lennox. Explain to me why a chemistry as strong as ours—the kind that snaps against each other’s every time we’re in close proximity—should be ignored?”
“We don’t have the time to flesh this out—”
He steps in front of the door. “Yes, we do.”
I stare at him, hands on my hips, and know he’s not going to back down until I explain what he truly needs to know. “This whole thing—you promoting the league for a short time while the Premier League is off-season and as a means to get you away to let everything die down there—is all a ruse. He’s trying to wine, dine, and impress you to stay here.”
“Any intelligent person could assume that,” he says. “It’s smart on his part.” He pauses as if he’s going to say something else but then pauses. “That’s not what you’re hiding from me, though.”
“Cannon lured me here under the guise that I would consult with him on how the league could offer better packages to their players. He wanted more structured benefits and compensation to keep them happy, to ensure they’d want to play here versus be lured overseas.”
“Fat chance.” He snorts.
“Exactly, but once I signed the contract, he informed me that my incentive-driven purpose in this role is to recruit you to stay here.”
“Okay.” He draws the word out, his expression pensive. “So we can’t sleep together because why?”
“Because Cannon has it in his head that I need to be your agent. That I need to steal you away from Finn and represent you myself. He feels that if you’re with me, he’ll get what he wants: his shiny star to hang the league’s success on.” I emit a frustrated sigh. “He thinks I’ll be his puppet, for lack of a better term.”
“He definitely doesn’t know you then.” Rush chuckles. “Because the woman I know would never let anyone own her or her decisions.”
I’d love to pause and let that compliment sink in, because what Rush said gives me joy. He believes in me, but I can’t let that affect the fact that sleeping with him still causes an issue.
“Thank you. But can you see how this is a problem all around?” I ask while Rush stares. “It’s a bad move if you ask me.”
“What is?” he asks. There’s an intensity to him right now that unnerves me. I’m not sure if he’s going to be angry with me or . . . I don’t know, but I begin to stumble over my thoughts.
“Cannon hiring me for the league. The you being here part. The me being here to steal you makes matters ten times more complicated when I’ve already slept with you.”
“You mean, am sleeping with you.”
“It was one time, Rush. We got each other out of our systems,” I lie.
His chuckle tells me he knows it is. “Funny. I sure as hell haven’t gotten you out of mine and truth be told”—he crosses the short distance between us, and runs the back of his hand down the side of my cheek—“the way you just kissed me tells me there’s a whole lot more you want to get out of our systems.”
“Finn’s out there,” I deflect. “The last thing I need is him seeing us leaving this room together. He’s a smart agent. I’d be concerned if my client was working side by side with another agent, too.”
“I hope I make myself clear when I say that no one determines or deters who I sleep with other than me.”
His words are a stark reminder of the mess he left behind back home.
“Rush, it’s words like those that give the press the fodder they need to annihilate you. That’s how you ended up in the States.” He squints at me in anger briefly, but then it’s gone, because he can see that I don’t believe it’s true. “If I thought you had a girlfriend back home, I wouldn’t have slept with you in the first place,” I whisper.
At that, I see a small—relieved?—smile form on his gorgeous lips. One that doesn’t help me not want to kiss him any less. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, lingering. And I know he’s heard my faith in him.
So, I continue. “Rush, this is where I live. This is my job. My professionalism on the line. My reputation. And—”
“So then we don’t let them know. We’ve been hired to do a job and we’re doing it. That’s the bottom line. Anything beyond that is out of their realm.”
“It’s not that easy. Do you know what it would look like to other athletes if word got out? That I sleep with potential clients in the hope that it would win them over to sign with me? I mean, there’s so much more to the equation.” I think of Finn’s accusation minutes ago and know the only way Rush will understand is if I tell him, but I also want to take the high road. The last thing I need to do is to poison him against his agent because I have personal issues with the prick. “You might get away with doing whatever you want, whenever you want even if it’s trouble, but you still get paid. You still have a public pushing for you because of your incredible talent. Me, on the other hand? I look like a tart who fucks her way to the top.”
I wish I knew what was going on behind those eyes of his.
“You’re my tart,” he says with a half laugh before his expression softens and grows intense as the other part of what I said hits him. “You said I had incredible talent.”
It strikes me in the moment that this grown man, gruff in so many ways, just stopped in his tracks for simple praise. Almost as if everything else is white noise.
“Surely you know that,” I say through a laugh.
“It’s not something I hear from people who matter to me.” Our eyes meet, hold, and I o
pen my mouth and then close it, uncertain how to respond. He truly isn’t used to hearing it. “And Finn?” he asks, changing the topic before I can ask the questions I’m sure are fleeting through my eyes.
“What about Finn?”
“Does he know about Cannon’s master plan to force me to stay here and never go back home?” He smiles this time, although I can tell he’s still processing.
“I have no idea what he knows or doesn’t know. He tried to prevent Cannon from hiring me, so I can assume he has an inkling why I was brought on board.”
“Do you know Finn well?”
I huff out a laugh. “We have a history of sorts—no, not the kind you’re thinking of,” I say when he looks startled, and I realize my poor choice of words. “He definitely has his opinions about me, so what I think of him doesn’t really factor into this conversation.”
“I can respect that.”
“I should get out there. Cannon’s probably wondering where I am,” I say but Rush doesn’t move out of the way.
“Is Cannon right in his thinking?”
“About?”
“If you were my agent, would you talk me into leaving the Premier League and staying here?”
“I’m not your agent though,” I say, trying hard to keep my opinions to myself.
“Humor me.”
“Rush,” I groan and look at my phone to check the time. Cannon is definitely going to be looking for me.
“What would you advise?”
I straighten my shoulders and look at Rush, the athlete, instead of Rush, the man I want to experience again, and I speak the truth. “I’d tell you you’re crazy to even let the idea of staying here pass over your lips. You’re at the top of your game, the pinnacle of your career, and you’d be selling yourself, the sport, and your fans short. I’d also tell you that you should have never come here in the first place.”
“Really? Why’s that?” he asks as if he’s surprised by the comment.
“Because coming here looks like you’re running. By not staying there and facing the press and your teammates, it gives the appearance that you’re guilty of fucking Seth’s wife behind his back.” Rush cringes at the harshness of my words and his reaction surprises me. “You haven’t said a word otherwise, so everyone is making assumptions. Assumptions that I think are total bullshit. You know I don’t think you did it, but for the freaking life of me I can’t figure out why you don’t say otherwise.”
