I smiled prettily at my obsession. “Hey, thanks for saving my ball.”
He looked at me like I’d just entered his field of vision. “Oh yeah. No problem. Hope losing your virginity wasn’t too painful.”
I laughed way harder than was necessary as he walked away, until I glanced at Bucket Hat and saw his sour expression.
He was actually sort of cute, in a disheveled way. If he cut the scraggly mullet poking out from beneath the back of the hat and shaved his five-o’clock shadow, I’d even call him handsome, but the guy seemed committed to looking like a janitor.
“Kai,” he yelled after my fake boyfriend.
Ofcoursehis name was Kai. It was a quintessential hot guy name, which was why I’d used it for cowboys in three of my books.
“Yeah?”
“You gotta fortify that volley,” Bucket Hat shouted to him. “Drill it, okay?”
It was another language that I was suddenly more interested in mastering.
“Done,” Kai said as he backed away. “See you Thursday.”
And now I knew his schedule. Perfect.
Bucket Hat glanced back at me. “Anyway, good luck. If you keep that grip, I promise you’ll do better on your next game. Don’t be afraid to take your shot, even if your partner gets in your way.”
“He’s not officially my partner,” I reminded him,justin case.
“Right,” Bucket Hat replied with a nod. “You can’t be a real partner until you learn how to play.”
I was about to pretend to be insulted by his implication, but he turned and walked away before I could say anything.
Meredith joined me, holding out a pale yellow smoothie. “Recharge.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Colton and Daniel were practicing various swings. “That was... not great. Sorry. Do you hate it?”
“No, not at all,” I lied. “Because I think I just met my future husband.”
Chapter Three
I didn’t consider watching the soccer match on my iPad while I “wrote” at Hell’s Coffee true procrastination since it involved family and would dominate the afternoon’s group text. I wasn’t really paying attention since the only player I cared about hadn’t been on the pitch yet. I half listened as Barnham City got wrecked yet again, pretending that I was working when all I could think about was how miserable my brother was probably feeling. He was edging past his prime years playing for a team that was under a perpetual black cloud.
My older brother, Wes, was a nepo hire in the worst possible way—the son of Albert Nelson, a beloved goalkeeper who’d helped take the Chelsea Football Club to victory in the late eighties, then retired to the States, married my mom, had Wesley, and died unexpectedly way too young. The long shadow cast by his late father meant that Wes rarely had a chance to shine in his own right, especially because he’d opted to play for an English team.
I jumped when someone tapped me on my shoulder and tried not to frown as I lifted one of my headphones to see what the stranger wanted.
The old me was fine with occasional interruptions when Iwas working in public, because so many rom-coms started with coffee shop serendipity.Can I share that outlet with you? Do you like the book you’re reading? Does the French roast tasteburntto you?And then the next thing you know, you’re shutting the place down hours later, thanking your lucky stars that Mr. Blue Eyes had the balls to shoot his shot. After all, it was how Leo and I had met. A crowded café (not this one, of course), with just one open chair left at my little table in the corner. Cue the banter, prolonged eye contact, and butterflies.
Now I knew better. It didn’t matter how cute the meet; it would always end in disaster. Sure, I was still saying yes, thanks to my pact with Meredith, but it didn’t matter because a misanthrope had evicted my tenderhearted romantic soul, which was why I was staring at a blank page on my laptop.
But...Kai. Every time I thought about the run-in with him on the courts, I felt that dormant flutter of possibility. That inexplicable spark of attraction had to meansomething, and I was willing to bet my next book to find out.
I narrowed my eyes at the tattooed stranger who wasnotKai.
“Come on, you gunners!” The guy pointed at the screen, where Coventry was celebrating yet another goal. “Am I right?”
Technically, hewasn’tright because it was Arsenal’s chant and they weren’t playing, but I didn’t want to get into it.
I bobbed my head, keeping my expression neutral. “Yup.”
He leaned closer to squint at my tablet. “Are you for Barnham City or Coventry?”
“Barnham.”
