I nodded, giving her a smile. I didn’t know Otter well; she spent a lot of time on set and she’d only been with Ryan a year or just a little more, but when she’d hung out with us, she’d been great. “He’s great.” I looked over at her. “I really like him.”
It was easier to say that to her than anyone else, maybe because I didn’t know her as well.
“I can tell. You have it written all over you. How much sleep did you get last night?”
I topped the glasses up with the fresh orange juice, pouring one glass just of juice for Amber.
“I don’t think it matters. I’m sure every orgasm makes up for an hour of missed sleep.”
Otter laughed, picking up a tray I’d found and putting the glasses on it. “I second that. Last night was the first time I’d seen Ryan in a couple of weeks. I was so pissed off that he’d agreed to do this run today, and I think he would’ve skipped it if he wasn’t so desperate for the gossip from Jesse. Not that he thinks he’s going to get any.”
We took the drinks outside, putting the trays on the floor and handing out the drinks. Amber scowled when she got hers.
“Let’s start with the headlines. Is this serious with you and Jesse, or is it just a casual thing?” Neva leaned forward. She looked ridiculously gorgeous, her dark hair pulled into a neat twist, her make-up barely there but still making her look like a model.
“Jesse’s serious. The boy’s done casual behind very tightly locked doors for years and never, ever been seen out in public with a woman. There’s no way he’d have gone out on a date with you if he wasn’t serious.” Genny was halfway through her mimosa already. “You know there’s a photo of you both on gossip sites already?”
I shrugged. “I’d have been surprised if there wasn’t. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t read them.”
“Best way.” Dee Jones, Rowan’s fiancée, sipped at her drink. “It’s all a load of shit anyway. Steer clear from it, and if you happen to read a comment that’s bitchy, it’s because they’ve tried to get in your fella’s pants and failed. Jealously is alive and kicking from people’s keyboards.” Her smile was full of sunshine, though. “Rowan hates any comments like that more than me, which I find kind of a turn-on.”
Amber nodded. “I like it when Nate gets his alpha on.” She gave me the side eye. “And he gets a little bossy in bed.”
I groaned. “Stop it. Just ask.”
Her face lit up. “How dominant is Jesse in bed then?”
Six pairs of eyes landed on me.
I took a deep breath. There was no way they were letting me live unless I gave them some details.
I lived, long enough to go on another date with Jesse. Then another, and another after that. I’d spend the night at his, dropping him off at the training ground after, before tucking myself away, often at Kitty’s Café, to get all the words done. My brother mentioned that it would be okay for Jesse to stay at my house, or rather Nate’s house, and while I appreciated the offer, I just didn’t feel comfortable to get my rocks off with my brother’s best friend while he was only a few doors down.
There wasn’t just the words I had to do. I had adverts to check, a newsletter to write, the number of subscribers growing as I’d written a free novella to try and entice readers to follow my books, and there was social media. Since photos of me and Jesse had leaked out, and I’d been identified, my social media following had grown, as had my sales. I wrote a soccer romance series — soccer for my American readers — and I was now dating a soccer player. A hot one. The wannabe WAGs were loving it, although they were occasionally hating on me, and some of the reviews posted on book sites were a little too full of nastiness, accusing me of dating Jesse for the free publicity it was bringing, because my books weren’t really that good.
Maybe the mistake I made was hiding this from Jesse. The season was starting, and the team were seriously focused on winning the lead this year. They’d had a really good season last time, and this season would be a key one. There hadn’t been many new signings over the summer, and only one player had left, the chairman and Guy both stating that they believed the quality of the current squad was good enough, particularly as they’d had last season to gel. The players — from what I’d seen — believed this, and their commitment that I’d seen in pre-season suggested they appreciated the faith management was showing in them. I’d been a footballer’s sister for long enough to know when something special was happening too, and that was how it felt when I was around the training complex or sitting in Kitty’s with whichever player turned up needing feeding and someone to talk to, or moan to, usually about Neva’s diet plans.
I didn’t want to bother Jesse with what people were suggesting. That I was only with him for research purposes. It wasn’t true. There was no reason for me to need anyone other than my brother to tell me what actually happened at a football club or with the players, and I knew enough about the game to write stories about it, even if I needed to explain the offside rule in detail.
I’d started to write a fourth book that was the beginning of a new series, one that had nothing to do with sport but was still romance, needing to prove to myself that I wasn’t the sum of my acquaintances. It was going well, although I’d made sure that the hero was nothing like Jesse, not wanting anyone to be able to say that I was using him.
The first game of the season was at home. It was warm, sunny, and the day before and the morning of the match had a festive-like feel. The team was strong; there were no worrying niggles that had been picked up in pre-season training or the friendlies to ensure match fitness was there. The press around the club had been positive, and unlike last year, the summer hadn’t been hit with scandal. Rowan Reeves had only been papped with his arm around Dee as they did their supermarket shopping together instead of getting friendly with a wannabe WAG on holiday in Mexico; Nicky and Kitty had been focused on in celebrity gossip mags, mainly because he couldn’t stop posting pictures of them together on his social media, which really was the cutest thing, and Jude had adopted a dog — a chihuahua called Mavis. To say Guy was pleased at the lack of scandal was an understatement. Genny was beaming, because her workload usually centred around cleaning up the messes too rich, sometimes rather idiotic and egotistical footballers often made.
Which meant she had time to nosy into my name on social media and what was being said.
“Have you mentioned this to Jesse?” she said, looking at her computer screen in her office. A new photo of Guy was attached to her dartboard, a dart sticking straight out of his head.
“No. He’s too busy, and I don’t want to break his focus.” I was also more than slightly worried about his reaction, given his history.
Genny took a really long exhale and studied me, inhaling steadily, which suggested she was working out which words to use to tell me I was making a mistake.
“Your boyfriend is a control freak.”
“I know. Or he would be one if he didn’t control it so well.” It was meant to be a joke, but there was too much truth in it. Jesse knew he liked control, but his awareness of that meant he moderated himself.
Genny nodded. “He’s one of the good ones, but what he won’t like is you cutting him out of this.”
“What? The fact that a group of jealous women are accusing me of only hooking up with Jesse for ‘research’?” I rolled my eyes, knowing damn well that wasn’t what she was referring to.
