Chapter 2

Chapter Two

TATE

I ’m trying to hang onto the ends of my totally justifiable, white-hot anger. Fucking Winston has hired me a fucking bodyguard… without even asking me. I’m fuming as I change direction, suddenly deciding to head for the bar, and bowl over a woman in my path like a ten pin. My apology implodes when I realise exactly who this woman, wearing a smoking-hot red dress, is. It’s been almost a decade since I last saw her.

Lily fucking Heath.

The sight of my college girlfriend, her blue eyes wide and shocked, sprawled at my feet in firecracker scarlet silk, like she’s spread out on a satin sheet, pushes my blood pressure into the might-have-a-stroke-at-any-minute zone.

Lily Heath.

I haul her to her feet without any finesse; I really don’t want to be touching her. A spark of electricity shoots up my arm. I ignore it. Just static. Basic physics. But the unfamiliar sensation pulls me up short and I lose power. Lily canons into me, her hand hitting my chest, and there it is, that instant burst of fireworks, attraction to the power of ten. My brain short-circuits and the throwaway, ‘Do I know you?’ that I’ve been practising for the last eight years doesn’t even get out of the starting blocks.

I’d always planned to be casually cool, in a didn’t-we-once-date, I-think-I remember-you, dismissive kind of way. Instead, my furious emotions burst out. The words ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ tumbling out like I give a shit.

My notorious self-control is shot. Me, the guy famous for calming down his teammates, who’s ice cool on the field, now wants to punch something. I want to put my fist into the wall.

It’s her. Lily Heath. Lily fucking Heath. The woman I hate with every fibre of my being, and then some.

I pull myself together and this time I say with icy ease, ‘Again. What the fuck are you doing here?’ My teeth are gritted so hard I could grind walnuts to dust as I stare down at her. She’s tall for a woman. Five-eleven. But I’ve still got a good five inches on her.

‘Working,’ she says, brushing down the fabric of her dress that billows around her legs, bringing a flashback of her thighs either side of my face as she sat on my shoulders at an outdoor stadium Killers gig. ‘An apology wouldn’t go amiss, you know.’

That’s rich. She walked out on me and she’s talking about apologies. Sure, we had an awkward video call where she explained her dad had been sick, but she refused any support I offered and then I never heard from her ever again. She ghosted me. I ram a hand in my pocket, clenching my fist out of sight.

‘For what?’ I ask.

‘Knocking me over.’

‘Didn’t see you,’ I snap. It’s rude but I don’t care.

‘Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?’ Her voice is husky even though her eyes flash with a touch of anger.

There’s no way sorry is going to pass my lips. Instead, I pull up a bored look. ‘Is there anywhere you need to be right now?’

‘As a matter of fact, there is,’ she snaps.

‘Well, I suggest you get there.’ I give her an insincere smile and watch as she lifts her chin and looks down her nose at me.

‘Nice seeing you again. Not.’

‘Childish,’ I observe, acting equally dumb. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I have to have the last word.

She raises a haughty eyebrow and looks at me as if I’m something she’s spotted on the bottom of her shoe after walking through a farmyard.

My heart is performing a tumbling routine worthy of Simone Biles, but I hold her gaze. Fuck, she’s even more beautiful than I’ve been remembering and, standing there with her hip jutted out as if she’s ready to take me on, she’s cute, feisty and brave. Exactly as she was back in college.

Her lips have tightened, twisted and pursed in the last few seconds– as facial gymnastics go, it’s understated, but it’s there all the same. I’m convinced she’s trying to work up a comeback. Funny, the Lily Heath I knew was never lost for words. Sharp, even spiky, but always honest and forthright, loyal and spirited. She had this super British confidence that yanked me in the first time we spoke. It had been one of her many attractions. As a ball player in college, you get a lot of attention. A lot of action. Lily was never impressed by that and made it quite clear that I was nothing special the first time she met me. I had to pull out all the stops to get her to go on a first date. She said it was because I wasn’t used to being turned down.

Lily turns and stalks off. Sad loser that I am, I watch her every step of the way. I’m mildly puzzled by the fact that she’s made a beeline for the dining room, and out of sheer nosiness, I follow at a discreet distance, wondering if she’s meeting someone in there. Why is she here, of all places? How did she get on the guest list?

The room is empty, everyone is gathered around the bar and the area overlooking the roof terrace. I’m intrigued when Lily walks right to the back of the room, disappearing behind the plants for a few seconds. She comes out of the other side of the planters, pushing something into her purse, and I have to turn away quickly and move back into the crowd before she spots me. I am not the least bit interested in Lily Heath. I couldn’t care less about her. But I am intrigued– and that’s all it is– as to what she’s collected and put in her purse.

One beer later, the only one I’ve allowed myself, and I’m with the guys. Most of the team is here tonight before we fly out to New Orleans in the next couple of days.

‘You okay, Tate?’ asks Blake, my closest friend and one of the team’s linebackers. ‘You seem a little edgy.’

I look at him. I can trust him with my life, and I’m so shaken, I say. ‘Remember when I first met you.’

‘Yeah,’ he grins at me but lowers his voice. ‘How could I forget?’

He’s not kidding, I was a mess. Nearly dropped out of college. Was benched from the team for not showing up to practice. Skipped gym sessions. I nearly lost everything.

‘I just saw her.’

Blake’s face mirrors the shock I’m feeling. ‘Shit, man. Here? Now?’ This time the question is quiet and urgent.

I just stare at him.

‘You’re not going to freak out on me?’ he asks worriedly.

‘No,’ I say with a bucket-load of indignation, as if that’s the last thing that would ever happen to me.

He cocks an eyebrow. ‘First time I met you?’

‘That was the one and only time,’ I fire back at him, even now a little embarrassed by the way I’d fallen apart that day in the locker room. ‘And you’ve been a good friend ever since. Thank you.’

He claps me on the shoulder. ‘Way to cement a friendship, huh? Tell someone to take deep breaths into a paper bag.’ He’s studying me now. ‘How do you feel? Seeing her again.’

‘Fine,’ I say, stiffening my spine. I am not going to let history derail me. This is my time. The best season of my life and I’m playing the best ball of my life. Nothing is going to get in my way, least of all Lily Heath. I dredge up a curt smile. ‘It was just unexpected, that’s all. I didn’t have time to prepare– and I was already pissed.’

‘Pissed? You?’ Blake’s surprised. I’ve got a reputation for being driven on the field but with iron control. I never lose it. The team rely on me to keep tempers cooled.

I change the subject.

‘Winston has hired a fucking bodyguard?’ I jab my thumb towards my chest. ‘For me. Fuck’s sake.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘If only I was. He got another letter today. I mean who even mails letters these days?’

‘You said they weren’t serious.’

‘They aren’t,’ I say, exasperated. ‘Just some crackpot, yanking his chain. But Win is rattled with the game coming up, plus the d-i-v-o-r-c-e, which must not be mentioned, so these crazy threats are sending him over the edge.’

‘He’s just looking out for you.’

I give Blake a look. He has a tendency to think the best of everyone.

Before I can answer, a white ball of fur comes careering towards me and starts dancing and yapping around my ankles, jumping up and down for attention.

‘Hey, dog, stop.’ I lean down and scoop up the little Pomeranian into my arms. He’s quivering with over-excitement and nerviness. ‘Now just cut it out, little man,’ I tell the fluffball. ‘How does something your size have so much attitude?’ The dog quietens and there’s the usual grin on his foxy little face. ‘Don’t even—’ Before I can finish the sentence the dog has lunged at my face, lavishing it with friendly licks, which are so not welcome.

‘Maybe you can borrow the dog to protect you,’ teases Blake.

‘Ew, dog,’ I hold the dog at arm’s length and pointedly ignore Blake’s comment. ‘Not in the face. I don’t know where the tongue’s been. You disgusting creature.’ With a long-suffering sigh I hold onto the wriggling mass that is Teddington Bear the First just as his owner, Pammie Radstock, comes rushing over. Long legs on elegant heels, her luxuriant blonde hair arranged in a mass of sexy-just-out-of-bed curls, Pammie is poured into a dress made to emphasise every one of her considerable assets. She is one gorgeous woman, and she’s aged gracefully and elegantly. She’s also the boss’s wife.

‘Teddy, you naughty boy.’ She waves a chiding finger at the little dog. ‘Naughty, naughty, running away from Mommy.’ Then she bats her eyelids at me. ‘He just adores you.’

‘Mmm,’ I reply, grimacing and still holding the dog as far from my face as possible.

‘Can I get a picture of my little baby with you?’ I roll my eyes, but Pammie’s already turned to Blake. ‘They just make the most adorable couple, don’t they. Just so sweet together. Him so big and muscly, and Teddy so little,’ she croons in a baby-doll voice.

‘Yeah, Mrs Rad… er…’ Blake tugs at his collar. ‘Very cute.’

Her face falls and her eyes fill with sadness. ‘I’m still Mrs Radstock. Winston might have moved on to a younger model, but I’m still married to him.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ sputters Blake.

None of us know what went wrong between the two of them. They’ve been married for twenty-five years and always appeared to have a solid marriage. Not that I’d know anything about that. My mom bailed when I was fifteen. She lives in Canada now with a new family, and with my schedule, we rarely touch base. I don’t bear her any ill will, though, and my dad has more than made up for her absence.

‘Now let me take our picture.’ Pammie elbows Blake out of the way and takes out a tablet from one of her regular, outsized purses and muscles in next to me and the dog to take a selfie, after which she smooths down her curls with a self-congratulatory stroke.

‘Pammie, you’ve got to stop doing this,’ I say. The woman is causing us all a whole heap of trouble. I mean, I have nothing against her, she’s a sweet woman and obviously suffering, but I really don’t want to be dragged into her marital break-up.

‘Doing what, Tate? I can’t help it if my dog loves you.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Sorry, darling, no idea.’ With that she grabs one of the dog’s paws, waves it at me and sashays off on her sexy high heels, and I mean sashays, a sassy wiggle to her bottom as she is absorbed into the crowd, the dog now tucked under one arm, her huge bag clamped to her side by the other.

I shake my head.

‘Let’s hope Win doesn’t see that picture,’ says Blake.

I shrug. What else can I do? Pammie’s hurting and she still owns part of the club. Win is mad as hell at her, and no one knows why. It’s turned into a game of one-upmanship and her weapon of choice is TikTok. The videos she posts invariably get picked up by the tabloids. And then Winston gets grumpy and bawls the team out.

‘You know she’s been seen a lot with her Swedish tennis coach, Sven something-or-other, but it’s so clichéd. Winston’s convinced something is going on. The guy is half her age and Pammie’s always had more class than that, don’t you think?’

That’s one of the things I like about Blake, he’s astute when it comes to people.

I vaguely listen as he talks on, my attention caught by a couple of people moving through the crowd.

‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘What?’ Blake turns and cranes his neck to see the recipient of my scowl. ‘Ooh, who’s that with Win? She’s a looker. Don’t tell me she’s Pammie’s replacement?’

My stomach drops. Please, God, no.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I snap, because in a million years I did not predict this scenario. ‘She’s half his age.’

‘Puh-lease. Are you crazy?’ Blake raises an eyebrow. ‘Since when did a healthy bank balance affect that equation?’

‘Who’s the honey?’ asks Marvin, this season’s rookie, sidling up to us and glancing round. ‘If Pammie sees her, shit’s really going to hit the fan. Look at those legs and’—he groans—‘that is a fuck-me mouth, if ever I saw one— Ouch! What was that for?’

Marvin rubs at his ribs where I’ve just given him a sharp jab.

‘Show some respect,’ I snarl.

Around the room, everyone is watching Winston. On one side of him is his usual sidekick, the team manager, Shane Dooley, who, despite his VIP status, is not a total dick; on the other side, gliding along beside him, is the serene beauty that is Lily Heath. The three of them stop to greet John Tierney, Head of Security, and together they stand in a small huddle. Meanwhile, my brain is going into overdrive.

Lily said she was working here. No way. Don’t tell me Lily Heath has just walked back into my life on a more permanent basis. Not when I have the biggest game of my life coming up.