7. Finley

7

FINLEY

O ne evening, a few days after I'd moved into the house, I left work in a hurry, hoping to catch the football game when it started. It was a major match, and I was already feeling worked up. My beloved Thameside United versus the Steel City Blades. The game of the season. My palms dampened just thinking about it. Even though I no longer lived in London, I could never abandon my team.

I went in through the mudroom. Dog greeted me from his bed. I stopped to give him some love and then went upstairs to change into jeans, and Thameside sweatshirt and scarf. The scarf was a must, or it would be a total disaster. One time, I'd forgotten it at home while hurrying to the game in person, and Thameside tanked. My stomach hurt just thinking about it. I'd felt bad for weeks afterward and have never made that mistake again.

I'd been out of my mind excited when I realized I could get the game through Soren's sports package. The match started in twenty minutes, which meant I had just enough time to put together some snacks for myself. I dumped some crisps into a bowl and grabbed a beer.

I called out to Dog to follow me, and he obediently got to his feet and trotted behind me using his three good legs. Soren had said it was all right if he sat on the couch, so I lifted him up myself, careful of his stitches. He curled up with his chin resting on his paws. "You ready for the match? But we have to get something established straight away. You are a Thameside fan. You hate Steel City, got it?"

Dog wagged his tail. I rewarded him with a good scratch behind his ears before settling onto the couch next to him. He'd improved a great deal in just a few days. I'd grown attached to him already. If he hadn't still been recovering from his injuries, I would have encouraged him to come upstairs and sleep on my bed, but for now, Soren thought it best to keep him in the mudroom.

Growing up, we'd not had pets. My mother was allergic to cats and dogs so I could admire pets from afar. One year, I'd asked for a turtle for Christmas, but it never happened. Looking back, we really didn't have room in our small flat for any kind of pet but at the time, my heart had been broken.

Using the remotes on the coffee table, I turned on the television and the gas fireplace. The game had not yet started, but the commentators were discussing the match. As usual, they were talking smack about my Thameside boys.

"Shut it," I said to the television. "We've been underdogs forever, and we always come through." I muted the sound and glared at them as if they could see me. I didn't need to be there to know a lot of people in east London were currently shouting at the television while drinking beer at their local pub. A twinge of homesickness made my stomach ache. Of everything about home, it was football I missed the most.

I heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Soren's home," I said to Dog, who raised his head but didn't bother trying to leap from the couch. Instead, he sent me a sad look and returned his chin to his paws. "Soon, you'll be able to run and see him the moment he gets home, but for now you have to wait until your leg's healed."

He whined to let me know he understood, then closed his eyes.

Soren rushed into the room, carrying a beer and the rest of the bag of crisps. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me on the couch. A scowl transformed his handsome features. I almost laughed as I watched him clearly trying to remain calm and polite when he really wanted to toss me out on my ear. "Are you watching something important? Because I really wanted to watch a sports thing."

"A sports thing? Do you mean football?" I gestured at the television with half of my uneaten crisp.

He slowly turned toward the television. When he saw that it was football, his mouth fell open. Amused, I watched as he gathered himself. "You're watching soccer?"

"No. I'm watching football," I said, grinning.

"Right, sorry. This is the football match of the season, and I've been looking forward to it all day. I can't believe you wanted to watch it too."

"I'm surprised you want to watch it. You're American after all."

"We love soccer here," Soren said, sounding defensive. "I played all through school."

"So did I."

"Huh. Okay." He wrinkled his brow, staring at me with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me you're not a Steel City fan," I said, completely seriously. "Or we might not be able to remain friendly," I said friendly as opposed to friends . Calling us friends might be a leap.

"God, no. I hate those guys."

"Right. Total prats." I sat up straighter. "But wait, why do you hate them? How far back does your hatred go?"

"How far back?" He sank into the other end of the couch, tossing the bag of crisps next to my bowl on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you might think you hate them, but you can't possibly feel as I do. I'm talking generational hate, okay? Not some willy-nilly notion you've arrived at recently. This is serious."

He smirked, nodding. "Ah, all right. My answer is twofold. Firstly, I hate them because their fans are a bunch of rich brats. Secondly, they win too often and are cocky and ungrateful. You can just tell—they're whiny babies."

"Yes, yes, and yes. It's so obvious they think they're better than everyone else. Not to mention all their fake injuries. If I had a nickel for every time one of them rolls around on the field in supposed agony, I'd be rich."

"Couldn't agree more," Soren said. "Anyway, Thameside has heart. Tenacity. And they have one another's backs, like brothers. Those Steel City guys are all about themselves instead of the team."

"You are so right. I couldn't have expressed it better myself." Delighted, I leaned over to clink my beer against his. "Don't worry, I'm wearing my lucky scarf. We'll be fine."

He raised one eyebrow before taking a draw of beer.

On the television, a camera panned across the London Stadium, filled with the cardinal and gold of the Thameside United fans. "I've sat right there," I said, pointing to a section near the other team's goal box. "Greatest day of my life. We killed them—three to zero."

The commentator's voice rose with excitement as the game kicked off.

"Come on, boys, don't let me down." I tied my scarf into a knot around my neck and set my beer aside. That was safer. Less likely I'd spill when jumping up in victory. Or worse, cause harm like that time I threw a mostly empty beer at the television in the King's Crown in a fit of rage over a beastly call by one of the refs. Fortunately it had knocked Willie O'Conner on the back of the head instead of the screen. I wasn't a good aim. He'd had a few, so he didn't really notice. The bartender, however, had not been impressed by my fan loyalty. Fortunately, Mabel had been running my neighborhood pub since before I was born, so she'd let me off without a penalty card. Plus, everyone else was equally outraged.

Now I turned toward Soren. "By the way, I hate it when people talk during the game unless it's about the game. Just letting you know. I get in the zone and it really ticks me off when someone asks some dumb question. Or worse, talks about how cute this one or that one is. I mean, really? That's what you're noticing?"

Soren stroked his chin, appearing greatly amused. "Good to know." He pretended to zip his mouth shut. "Not a word from me."

I leaned forward, holding on to the ends of my scarf as the game began.

Thameside United started strong, dominating possession. Robbie Moore controlled the midfield with precision, making sharp passes and linking plays effortlessly. Liam Sinclair made a darting run down the right flank, sending a low cross into the box. Marco Venturi lunged but narrowly missed, the ball skimming past the post.

At the twenty-eight-minute mark, it was still zero-zero. My entire body tensed when Ethan Hughes broke through Thameside United's defense. I held my breath as our goalie, Alexei Volkov, made a stunning save to keep the score level.

I leaped from the couch, cheering. "Yes, that's it. All right, keep this momentum going. This is not the time to choke."

By the end of the first half, we were up by only one point. "But we have the lead," I said out loud.

"Yeah, they're looking good." Soren stood, stretching his arms overhead, lifting his sweatshirt just long enough for me to catch a glimpse of his muscular abs.

I quickly averted my eyes. "No offense against Bluefern, but I wish we could order a pizza. I'm hungry."

"I'll text Caspian to send one of the staff over with a couple of his flatbreads."

"Great. I'll grab us a few more beers and take a bathroom break."

"I'll take Dog out," Soren said.

"Don't dawdle. You don't want to miss the beginning of the second half."

"Trust me. I won't."

I smiled all the way to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back on the couch for the start of the second half. Steel City almost immediately scored, tying the game. I was only vaguely aware that the doorbell rang with one of the restaurant staff arriving with our flatbreads. Soren returned with them, but I barely noticed. The tension was palpable as both teams searched for a breakthrough. My boys' intensity seemed to increase. The crowd's roar grew louder.

I jumped to my feet as Nico Ferrara danced past two defenders, unleashing a powerful shot that crashed against the crossbar.

"Yes, yes, yes. Did you see that?"

"Amazing," Soren said.

By the seventy-minute mark, we were still in a deadlock. Finally, the tie was broken. A corner from Lucca passed it to Alexei, who used his head to power the ball into the net. The stadium erupted. I cheered along with them.

At the eighty-second minute, Steel City was fighting back hard. John Fleck sent a dangerous free kick into the box, causing a scramble.

Biting the knuckles of my right hand, I gasped as Ollie Bennett made a crucial save, keeping us in the lead.

"Yeah, Ollie, that's the way," I shouted.

The final whistle blew, and Thameside United secured a hard-fought 2-1 victory.

I breathed a sigh of relief, savoring the triumph. The camera showed the jubilant Thameside United players celebrating with their fans.

"Does it make you homesick?" Soren asked.

"A little. Just when I watch football. The happiest memories of my childhood are watching with my dad. He lived for football. My mother always said he went temporarily mental when his team played."

"Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Soren said, before tipping back his beer.

"True." I looked at the now-cold flatbread. I'd been too nervous to eat, but now I picked up a square slice and gobbled it down. "That was a total nail-biter."

"They usually are. That's something I love about the game," Soren said. "It's never boring."

I nodded enthusiastically, thrilled that he understood and agreed with me. "Can you believe my mum thought watching football was boring? She said a game where no one scores is hardly a game. Dad would always just shrug his shoulders and then smile at me like we had this secret." My eyes grew misty, remembering how much fun we'd had watching together. "I miss him."

"I'm sure you do."

"He wasn't much of a talker, but we bonded over sports. Not that he could ever get a word in edgewise when it came to the Baker women."

"How surprising."

I hurled a crisp at him. "You're a mean man."

He caught the crisp midair with one hand and waved it at me before popping it into his mouth. "What else did you do when you were a kid? We've already ruled out cooking."

"Very funny." I tossed another crisp at him, which he also caught. "I liked reading and sports. Not to be immodest, but I was a really good footballer for an amateur. I was obsessed with the game, both on and off the field. I wish we had an amateur adult league here so I could play again. Back home, before prison, I was on a coed team just for fun. We only played once a week, but I looked forward to it." I hesitated before continuing. "That's where I met my boyfriend."

"How serious were you two?"

"We dated for a year. Nothing serious, apparently, since he ran the minute I got arrested. I was busy with work, so I didn't have a lot of time for him. He resented that, but I had to put my work first if I was ever going to have the life I wanted." I described my work at the high-end boutique hotel, including the long hours required. "Not that I minded. I'd dreamt my whole life of working at a place like that. But my boyfriend hated all the nights and weekends I had to work. If I hadn't been charged with a crime and sent to prison, we would have broken up anyway. Although he was the least of my concerns at that point."

"Why hotel work?" Soren scooted another piece of pizza onto his plate.

"This is going to make me sound like such a loser, but I'll tell you anyway. When I was a kid, I used to walk to school every morning. On the way, I'd pass this posh hotel. If I had time, I'd stop and stare through the windows into the lobby. My dad worked for the sanitation department, so we didn't have much money. We lived in a small flat on a run-down street. Mum was always clipping coupons and looking for sales. Regardless, when I looked through those windows, I could imagine a different life. The women with their expensive clothes and fancy cars all seemed so glamorous to me. I knew I'd never be one of them, but I could at least work for them."

"Interesting."

"Which part?"

"That you didn't think you could be one of them yet wanted to be around them."

"I guess it is a little weird, but my family never thought we could be more than what we were. It's not like here where everyone strives to be rich or successful or both and assumes they can be."

"Not all of us. I was always happy to be me, living in Montana and riding the property on a beloved horse. Which makes me the weird one."

"Not to me." I watched him for a moment. "You know, I never really thought about it before, but you're a great example of someone comfortable with who they are. It's refreshing."

"Why, thank you, ma'am."

We locked eyes for a moment. My pulse raced. Why did his eyes have to be so pretty? And his mouth so firm? What would his lips feel like against mine?

I flinched at the thought. What was wrong with me? This was supposedly the grumpy brother I didn't really like much. Or, I'd thought I hadn't liked. Really, I hadn't known him. This was the thing—when a person really sat down and listened to someone and asked them questions, it was easy to see how much more alike we were than different. At least, that was proving to be the case with Soren Moon and me.

"Tell me more," Soren said. "I'm imagining a little blonde girl peering in through the windows of this hotel. Did you press your nose against the glass?"

"No way. I wouldn't have risked smearing it and getting chased away by one of the doormen. From the window, I saw how the staff catered to their guests' every whim and decided there was no finer purpose than to provide service and comfort to others. So, I decided to study hospitality at university with the goal of working in a luxurious hotel. At school they offered internships as part of the curriculum, and I was lucky to get one at a five-star hotel in the St. James's neighborhood. That led to a full-time job as an assistant manager at the Marquise in Chelsea. I was in heaven." Thinking back on that time made my chest ache. I'd worked there for a year and loved every minute of it. If everything hadn't happened the way it did, I had no doubt I would still be there.

"This place must feel like a step-down," Soren said.

"Not at all. The ranch is a different kind of luxurious. Although I have been working on some ideas to make our guests even more comfortable and pampered. Thad is open to my input, which makes me deliriously happy."

"Are you responsible for those new fluffy towels in all the cabins?"

I laughed. "Yes, I am." Upon my recommendations, we'd recently upgraded to better-quality towels and linens. "The new high-thread-count sheets were my idea too."

"Higher thread count?" Soren asked. "Higher is better, right?"

"Yes, higher's better. You have no idea how much I think about things like thread counts and the thickness of towels."

"Makes you good at your job."

"I could probably score you a set of the new sheets if you're interested," I said.

"I don't think I'm sensitive enough to know the difference."

I had a sudden image of him lounging around in my bed, and a shot of desire coursed through me. How was it possible that I had the hots for Mr. Grumpasaurus? Of all men, it had to be him?

An imaginary voice whispered in my ear. But what if he's your destiny?