“I’ve learned to recognize a sure thing.”
Crap. That was the wrong thing to say.
I realized it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Damn it, I was normally so much better at being charming and irresistible than this.
“A sure thing? Are you kidding me? I’m not a slut! What happened on Friday was because of alcohol. And I was lonely. It’s not normal for me!” Her cheeks and neck were flushed and I knew she was upset.
I held my hands up in surrender. “That was a dick thing to say—”
“Yes it was. I think you’d better leave now.” She jingled her keys in her hand. I wondered for a moment if she’d hurl them at me. Or punch me.
She seemed like a bit of a loose canon.
“Fine, I’m gone. Here’s your phone, by the way.” I turned to leave but stopped. “I really do hope you come to the match. Just don’t go rooting for the other team.” I was trying to be funny. Trying to lighten the moment.
Morgan wasn’t having it.
“I’ll be rooting for anyone but you, Lucas.”
And with that she turned and stalked off.
She had one fine ass.
I went back out to my car, which was still idling out front. There were at least a dozen people now outside of Morgan’s flat, all holding phones pointed in my direction.
“Lucas, can I have your autograph?” a young boy asked, holding out a football and a marker.
“Sure.” I took the football and scribbled my name before handing it back.
“Can I get a picture?”
I spent the next few minutes having pictures taken and signing my name on scrap pieces of paper. When I was finally able to get back to my car, Anna had moved to the front.
“I was starting to think I would have to drive back home and leave you here,” she quipped once I drove away.
“Sorry that took so long.”
“Did you charm your way into getting a piece while you left your poor sister out in the car?” she asked, seeming amused, and probably grossed out.
“Hardly,” I muttered, thinking about Morgan Carter and how difficult she had been.
“Really? With the way you were panting after her I thought it would be a sure thing,” Anna asked, bemused.
“She is definitelynota sure thing.”
Morgan
Iclicked on a link and Lucas Bradley’s face filled the screen. I scanned the article. I had learned a lot about the footballer just from surfing the web. It seemed his entire life was out there to be read about.
He was born in Kent. His rise in the soccer—sorry,football—world had been slow and steady. He was obviously a hard worker and was extremely talented. He broke record after record for each team he played for, which is why now with Chester in the Premier League, he was the talk of the town. Everyone wanted him. The big teams were clamoring for him to join them. But from what I could tell he was loyal to Chester and his team.
That was commendable, right?
That pointed to a man who wasn’t a complete asshat.
Why was I looking for reasons to like him?
Because from what I had encountered he was anything but likable. Conceited, yes. Full of himself? Absolutely.
