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  "Very." Adding three points now, with how the rest of the table was shaking out, would be a bloody relief.

  "Chelsea's good, though, right?" She peeked at me under her lashes.

  I smiled. "Someone's been doing her homework."

  "A little. But with their best striker injured, don't you have a better chance of beating them?"

  With a groan, I tugged her closer. "Keep talking, I could get off listening to you like this."

  Lia laughed. "I just mean, wouldn't your parents want to be at a big game?"

  And that killed it.

  I kept my face even. "Depends on what needs to be done this time of year at the farm. November usually means rotating the crops for grazing, deworming, that sort of thing."

  She hummed. "And you had to do that growing up?"

  "Unfortunately."

  "I like the idea of farmer Jude."

  I didn't. I hated it, which was why I left. But still, I found myself smiling at the look on her face. "Do you now?"

  She nodded, ducking her head down to kiss either side of my lips. What did my heartbeat sound like when she did that? Was it racing and whooshing and filling the room with the indistinct drumming?

  I turned my head to suck at her lips, but she pulled back.

  "Are we playing now, love?"

  "Maybe," she murmured. "I keep thinking about you tossing me onto a bale of hay and having your way with me."

  "Oh please, we can do better than that." My hand came up and gripped her chin so she couldn't evade me. With the edge of my thumb, I pressed down on the center of her luscious mouth, hissing in a breath when she sucked it between her lips. "That kind of mood, eh?"

  She grinned—wickedly, in fact— and my thumb fell away. Underneath her, my body was aching and tight, heavy with wanting her.

  "I think it's my turn in the driver’s seat." She whipped her shirt over her head, hands diving down to the button on my trousers when it fell onto the floor.

  I surged up and took her mouth in a deep kiss, my hands gripping the curve of her hips while she writhed on top of me, chasing the sharp edge of relief that way.

  "Thatta girl," I said against her lips when her movements sped up, her face flushed a pretty pink. "Show me what feels good to you."

  Slipping my hand between us, I hardly had to do much, and Lia cried out, her chest heaving, her body shuddering in a way that made me crave her dangerously. Never before had I ever wanted a single woman long enough that I was willing to follow the path of how we could make each other feel for a long period. The possible complications had never been worth it.

  But as I cupped the back of her head and tilted her at the perfect angle for a searching, searing kiss, something that again, had my heart thrashing dangerously, I knew she'd be the one to make me want to risk it. Risk anything.

  Lia pulled away, pupils dilated and lips red from our kisses. "Your turn."

  "Is it?"

  She slid back until she was on her knees in front of me. My fingers slid between the silk of her hair. This woman, smart and sexy, didn't need me to prove myself to her. She simply wanted.

  Nothing about this was empty or transactional. For the first time in my life, it felt meaningful. I almost pulled her up off the floor because I wanted to be with her in this, but that thought was fleeting, erased by the feel of her mouth and the cool strength in her fingers.

  I laid my head back on the couch and shut my eyes, tightening my grip on her hair as she helped me chase the same feeling she'd just had.

  Helpless and open was how I felt when I finally shouted her name into the quiet of the room. And my hands shook when I tugged her back up onto my lap.

  Suddenly, proving my worth to anyone but Lia felt like a fool's errand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lia

  For my second match, I was far more prepared. This time, I had a Shepperton Shorthorns sweatshirt over my thermal leggings, Jude's jersey on underneath as a second layer, a poncho in my small purse in case it rained, a blue-and-white-striped winter hat emblazoned with Shepperton FC along the folded edge with a giant blue poof sticking off the top, and on my cheek was this friggin’ adorable little temporary tattoo that I'd found in a shop down the road from the stadium, the horned logo in bright blue and white.

  I walked to my seat, the energy in the building like the best shot of pure, unfettered electricity. Nothing was like the excitement of a live sports event. I'd take it over any concert, any play, any show in the entire world.

  A small block of empty seats was located around the one I knew was mine, but the moment I saw the tall man in a solid blue shirt, I knew immediately it was Lewis. He had the same dark hair, the same straight nose, the same broad shoulders. But where Jude's build was muscular, Lewis was husky—the kind of guy who looked like he gave the very best kind of hugs.

  I slid down the aisle, smiling at the four old men who stood to allow me to pass.

  Lewis glanced in my direction and moved to do the same.

  "No worries," I told him, "I'm right here." I pointed at the seat just to his right.

  His face lifted in shock. "Ahh. Right then."

  I held out my hand. "Lia. I take it Jude didn't tell you I'd be joining your family today."

  With a rueful smile, he gave mine a brisk, hard shake. "No, but that doesn't surprise me. My brother is hardly forthcoming about the details of his personal life."

  Because he said it with a warm tone and obvious love in his eyes, I didn't feel a surge of defensiveness for the man not here to defend himself.

  "Are your parents coming?"

  Lewis's smile faded just slightly at the edges. "I expect not."

  Song erupted around us, and I whipped out my phone to take a video. Lewis watched me with an unveiled curiosity. Once I stopped recording, I shot a text off to Molly, knowing she'd get a kick out of it.

  Each star player had a little song, and the fans—en masse—knew when to start singing them. Jude had one too, but I hadn't been able to remember the words once the match was over.

  "Our fans in the States don't do stuff like that," I shouted over the din, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. "I think it's so cool!"

  He nodded. "It's different here. Football transcends sport, if that makes sense." Lewis leaned in because I could hardly hear him. "For good and for bad, in fact. Some of the songs are bloody ruthless. One of the players on another team has a song about his wife because she started some drama passing stories to the papers. Didn't sit well with the fans."

  "No way!" I laughed. "That's savage."

  I tried to imagine that happening to Logan because Paige had been famous in her own right as a model when they first got married. He would've lost his mind if the fans had created a song about her.

  "Jude told me a little about you right after you met," Lewis admitted, once the raucous song came to a close. "But I didn't know you were still ... seeing each other."

  Given the jovial atmosphere, the electric happiness that the mood of the stadium gave me, I tried really, really hard not to let that bother me. I was twelve weeks pregnant with his child, and his brother knew nothing about me. Forced to pause our conversation because of a family of Shepperton fans passing in front of us, I took a moment to breathe out my disappointment in a few gulping breaths.

  It was fine.

  I'd kept Jude more than a little occupied the past few weeks, and if I was completely honest with myself, anytime his family came up, he changed the subject. He distracted me. And the last time I'd brought them up, I was the one who climbed onto his lap and rode him like a jockey rides a racehorse.

  A grimace crossed my face before I could stop it.

  I thought about what Atwood had told me, about my tendency to focus on the past to avoid an unknown future. I thought about how Jude had reacted to my lack of clarity of what I wanted to do with my degree once I'd finished it. And I thought about how easily he and I fell into the palpable chemistry between us to avoid the reality of our separate situations.


  Hell, my reaction to my meeting with Atwood left me feeling so unsettled that I'd gotten my pregnant ass down on my knees in front of him. In fact, if he'd pushed the door open, I probably would've crossed that invisible barrier we had around having sex again. I would've willingly allowed him to sweep away all the icky feelings she'd planted with that one seed of a thought.

  Lewis saw the look on my face, and I tried to erase it with a smile, but he held up his hands. "I'm sorry, that came out rude, didn't it?"

  "No, it's fine, really. I've been with Jude a lot, and I've never seen him talk to you, so I should've guessed."

  He smiled again, but this time, it held an edge of discomfort. Great. Excellent first impression.

  I laid a hand on his arm. "Sometimes I forget not everyone is like my family. I have four sisters, and we talk constantly. Don't worry about it."

  Lewis studied me again, and I felt a little bit like an animal in a zoo exhibit. And to your left, ladies and gentlemen, we have the exotic American female. The teams walked out of the tunnel, players holding hands with children of various ages, each wearing matching jerseys to the teams.

  "Okay," I said to Lewis. "What's up with the little kids?"

  He grinned. "They do it for a few reasons, but primarily, it's used to raise money. Parents can pay to have their kids walk out on the pitch with one of the players, but it also helps foster a sense of ... sportsmanship, I suppose. No one can rain down curses or throw cups at the opposing players when they walk out together with innocent British youth, eh?"

  "Ahh. See, back home, we'd never take away our ability to be merciless with the away team. I think our heads would implode."

  "How very American of you," he teased.

  "I'm pretty sure your brother said the very same thing to me the night we met."

  He took a slow drink from his cup, only glancing at me once before he seemed to come to a decision. "You're not like anyone I've ever seen Jude spend time with."

  So many questions popped into my head.

  About the kinds of women he was with in the past, about the number of women, and if anyone had crossed the impenetrable moat that seemed to surround their family. And like the secure, confident woman I was, I did not ask a single one of those questions.

  I simply smiled. "Is that so?"

  Lewis nodded, leaning closer so I could hear him while the team captains shook hands in the middle of the pitch. "Don't get me wrong, my brother hasn't dated anyone of consequence in years. And even when he did, back when he was first in the league, it was exactly the kind of woman he shouldn't have been with. They fawned over him, and it just ... it didn't help keep his feet on the ground. And Jude struggles as it is to do anything else with life beyond football, so people like that make it worse."

  Groupies. Every sport had them. Every celebrity faced them at some point. I'm sure my brother had too. But according to him and Paige, he never wanted anything to do with that lifestyle. It was a house of glass built on the edge of an unsteady cliff.

  "Athletes are just normal people who do abnormal jobs." I grinned at Lewis. "It's one of the things my brother drilled into our heads growing up. And the more people who elevate that athlete to a god-like status, the more they believe it."

  "That's right." He nudged me with his shoulder. "I'm glad he has you, Lia Ward."

  I wasn't able to answer because the ball went into motion, and for the next ninety minutes (plus stoppage time, which ... I was still trying to understand), we yelled and screamed and clapped and stayed on our feet while Jude and Shepperton FC absolutely left their hearts out on the field. As the clock kept moving forward, and Lewis explained that the whistle could blow any time once stoppage was met, I found myself breathless with the rhythm of the game.

  It wasn't boring.

  It was beautiful.

  The stamina of the players, the way they passed with precision and ruthless accuracy, and the strength they were able to hone in their movements, I almost cried when Jude snagged the ball from a Chelsea player and took off toward the opposite end of the field. He kicked it in front of him as he ran, passed to one of his teammates to the left, who handled the ball with his feet so deftly, I almost lost sight of it.

  It shot back toward Jude as he charged the waiting goalie, whose arms were outstretched in anticipation of what might come next.

  Jude's right foot drew back, and he caught the ball just as it flew in front of him. It arced, perfectly, beautifully, impossibly into the top corner of the net, and the crowds erupted.

  Lewis swept me up in a giant bear hug as we screamed, and the little old lady next to me wrapped her arm around my waist while she did the same.

  The whistle blew, and the high of the win felt like I'd done drugs or something.

  All my senses were heightened, my skin buzzed, and my heart pounded.

  And for the first time all match, I saw Jude look up in the direction of our seats. His hair was a mess, and his jersey was filthy, but his smile was blinding.

  I waved frantically, and he lifted a fist in the air.

  "Want to go with me to meet him when he's done? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat at your pub?"

  Lewis smiled, face flushed red from the celebrations. "If you two want to popover later, I'd love to say hi, but I have to get back. Tell him congrats for me, will you?"

  He gave me a brief hug and followed the crowds out of the stadium.

  When I looked back down at the players on the field, Jude was staring back up at us, but his smile wasn't quite as wide as before.

  Maybe he and I were kidding ourselves in our constant search for distractions, but I slid my hand over my stomach and vowed that I'd do what I could to move us forward. No more focusing on the past.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jude

  It was the moment when she screamed at the telly that I had my first real moment of pause when it came to Lia Ward.

  "Oh, you fucking moron," she bellowed, hand speared in her hair as she paced my living room. "Of course, they were going to blitz. Block! Come on, get him, get him, get him!"

  With a wince, I watched the Washington Wolves quarterback get viciously sacked. Lia groaned, sinking back on the couch with a deep breath.

  "All right?" I asked cautiously. Normally, I might have slid a hand up her back to rub in soothing circles, something I'd learned that she liked. Any physical affection made Lia purr like a bloody cat, actually. But as this was my first experience seeing her watch American football, I felt a bit skittish. Mainly because she swatted my hand away the last time I tried to calm her down.

  "No, I'm not all right." She tossed her hands in the air at the next play. "What is he doing? Why would you do another pass play? They're killing us on the line." She pulled her phone out, frantically tapping out a text. "Idiot. What an idiot."

  "Texting the coach your suggestions?" I teased.

  "Yes."

  My eyebrows popped up. "I was joking, love."

  She glanced over at me. "So was I. It's my sister Isabel.

  "Ahh. Does she concur with your game analysis?"

  "Yeah, the head coach is an idiot. He should've been fired last year. I don't know why Allie hasn't stepped in."

  My head tilted. "Who's Allie?"

  "Paige—Logan's wife—it's her best friend. Allie owns the Wolves."

  "Goodness," I murmured, "I had no idea I'd impregnated sports royalty."

  Lia smacked me in the stomach, and I grinned.

  "And Isabel is the one visiting in a couple of weeks."

  Before she answered, she watched with a frown as the Wolves offense failed to get a first down. "Yeah. You'll love Isabel, mainly because you won't be intimidated by her."

  "Are most people?"

  "Oh, yeah." Lia laughed. "She manages a boxing studio back in Seattle, and I swear, you take one look at her, and you just know ... this chick could kick my ass without breaking a sweat. She's tough, and smart, and funny. She's the best big sister because I always knew no one
would mess with us when Isabel was around."

  Her family was so different than mine. Listening to her talk about them, I felt a bit like I was a voyeur trying to understand what normal family dynamics were through the very extraordinary group she'd been born into.

  "And she's also watching at home, screaming at the screen like a maniac?"

  "Yes," she answered immediately. "Paige and Claire are at the game, but they're also probably screaming like maniacs. It's a family trait."

  "Sounds like it."

  "But"—she held up a finger—"I actually have messaged Logan during the game with ideas."

  "You have not."

  "He ignores me." She narrowed her eyes as she thought. "Usually. There was one time he said he saw my message during a commercial break and ran the defensive scheme I suggested."

  "You are joking."

  Her eyes got big. "I would never joke about that. The running back was kicking their ass. Logan needed the inside linebacker to blitz the gap."

  I threw my head back with a good belly laugh. I couldn't help myself.

  It was enough to have Lia's tense shoulders relaxing for the first time since the game started. Shepperton had the day off, we'd played midweek, and she begged for control of the telly on Sunday night so we could watch her beloved Wolves--—the team her brother played for and now coached. The camera panned to him as the defense took the field for a new series.

  "Defensive coordinator Logan Ward has made quite an impact on this team's defense since he took over the clipboard," the announcer said.

  His counterpart hummed. "Indeed. They've consistently ranked in the top three for sacks and takeaways, and this season so far, they're the top scoring defense in the league. That's largely in part to the addition of Noah Griffin to the roster last year, and how he's stepped up under Ward's coaching."

  Lia smiled.

  "That's your sister Molly's boyfriend, right?" I asked.