“Pardon?” I frowned.
“Never mind.” She smiled when Doug finally brought her drink. And it was a pretty smile. And it wasn’t for me. “Thank you so much.” She pulled out her wallet to pay but Adam stopped her.
“If you’re with Lucas, you don’t need to pay,” he told her.
Morgan finally looked my way and I smiled again. It had to do the trick eventually.
Apparently not.
She shook her head. “I’m not with Lucas. I’d like to pay for my drink, please.”
Doug seemed flustered. “Oh. Okay. Then it’s two pound thirty.” He glanced at me and I shrugged as if to say “women.”
She handed him a fiver. “Keep the change,” she said. She started to walk away.
Really?
That was it?
Was she really giving me the cold shoulder?
Fine. If that’s how she was going to be, I didn’t need the hassle.
“Hey, hang on a second,” I called out, following her.
Morgan glanced over her shoulder and I swore she rolled her eyes. “I’m with some co-workers. I need to get back to our table.” She looked towards a group of office lackeys who were watching our exchange with considerable interest. I waved at them and their collective mouths dropped open in shock.
“I really did want to thank you. Alan said you called the cab and helped him deal with my wankered arse. I appreciate it. Particularly since I’m pretty sure I ruined a perfectly good moment we were having by throwing up everywhere.” I really wasn’t trying to be a prat, but it seemed I was doing such a great job at it.
“Look, I was drunk. You were drunk. Stuff happened. I wasn’t going to leave you passed out in the bathroom. I only did what anyone else would have done.” Morgan appeared uncomfortable. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip. I tried not to stare at her mouth. Because it was a nice mouth.
“I don’t know, I think most people would be quick to take a picture or film me in that situation,” I laughed, trying to get some sort of reaction out of her other than annoyance and mild disdain. She appeared to be a very serious lady. I didn’t remember her being like that on Friday.
Though my memory was questionable.
“Right, because you’re some famous sports guy,” she said with a note of condescension. Clearly my being a football player didn’t matter to her. It irritated me.
But I kind of liked it too.
It had been a long time since I had been anything other than Lucas Bradley, stud striker.
“How about I give you some tickets to the season opener this weekend? As a thank you,” I suggested.
Morgan frowned. “Season opener? What’s that?”
“It’s our first match of the season and it happens to be at home. I can leave you some tickets at the box office. Bring a friend. They’ll be good seats, I promise.”
“Why would I go to your soccer game?”
I liked how she said soccer, elongating the o. Her accent was sexy as hell. Even if she was a bit on the prickly side.
“I just want to show my gratitude. You helped me out of a tough spot. I want you to know that I appreciate that.” Why was this so fucking hard? Why the hell was I trying at all when it was obvious she didn’t want anything to do with me?
Because I loved a challenge.
I was an immature shit like that.
“So inviting me to watch you run around a field is your way of saying thank you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Damn, she was a ball breaker.
