Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Rafe

A s I stared at the bathroom door, my head pounded as I tried to process everything that had just happened.

At first, waking up to Abby wearing my shirt had stirred my cock. I’d dreamed of her often in recent weeks, and I thought it was yet another forbidden fantasy filling my nights.

However, then I’d realized it wasn’t a dream, and I’d sobered up. Fast.

Especially once Abby looked at me with such sadness and betrayal, as if I’d used her to get back at Weston Wolfe for marrying my sister. I’d tried to convince her it wasn’t true—because it wasn’t—but her eyes said she didn’t believe me.

I’d heard rumblings of how she’d been hurt by some dickwad ex. But her look of pure pain had shown me a sliver of the truth—she’d had her heart broken, stomped on, and set on fire.

Then I’d found her ring and mine, spoke without thinking, and now she’d locked herself in the bathroom.

Part of me wanted to bang on the door and tell her we needed to figure shit out. Because if we had gotten married while drunk, we could easily get an annulment.

But thinking of the media’s field day with that made me hesitate. I could just imagine the headlines if or when it got out:

Playboy’s New Tactic: Marriage, Sex, and then a Quickie Divorce

Mendoza’s Failure at both Soccer and Love

Drunken Vegas Wedding Debacle for Former Playboy, Rafael Mendoza

Me and the media had a strained relationship. Gaining fame and fortune at such an early age had gone to my head. Before my parents’ fatal car crash when I was nineteen, my life had been full of drinking and parties and women. Lots of women.

Then my world had come crashing down.

I’d spent years trying to assuage my guilt over my parents’ death. Mostly, I’d wanted to keep people at a distance so no one could ever get close to me again.

Because I seemed to hurt anyone who loved me.

So to never have close relationships, I’d continued to act like the playboy the media made me out to be. That way, women never expected something serious, and I could keep friendships superficial.

And even though I’d tried to improve my public image and partying behavior in recent years, if what had happened with Abby leaked, it would undo everything. All the plans I’d made for me post-injury would go out the window.

No one wanted a scandal-riddled man to run a children’s sports training facility.

Because while most of my life in the UK hadn’t filtered over to the US—soccer wasn’t as popular here as in the rest of the world—everything from my past would come out. Everything.

I’d be doomed before I even opened the doors.

I rubbed my hands over my face. How the fuck had this happened? Abby and I argued most of the time. Yes, it usually resulted in us breathing hard and me wanting to pull her close and kiss her. But marriage? No way. I’d never wanted that.

I tried racking my brain, but I couldn’t remember anything about yesterday beyond driving toward Starry Hills from my house on the outskirts, sometime around noon the day before.

Lowering my hands, my eyes landed on my phone on the nightstand. Had our marriage already leaked out? How long until I needed to shift into damage-control mode?

As I wondered about hiring a PR firm to help me, my gaze moved to the wedding band on my hand and an idea sparked. Maybe I’d seen too many movies with my mom growing up, but there had been more than one which had people staying married for a short time, for whatever reason, as only friends. And while I sure as hell didn’t want the end result of those movies—the couple fell in love, blah, blah, blah, happy ending—a fake marriage to Abby could help with my PR problem.

If we were together, for say a year, the press would probably barely mention us splitting up. After all, sports stars married and divorced all the time.

And by the end of the year, my training facility would be up and running and already earning a reputation on its own.

The more I thought about it, the more the illusion of marriage started to seem like the solution to my problems.

But there was a catch—what would Abby get out of it?

Then I remembered her ex and the bits and pieces I’d heard since returning to Starry Hills. Did she want to get revenge on the bastard? Ruin him? Merely stand up to him and give him a piece of her mind?

I could help with that. Plus, I had money, lots of money, and maybe she’d agree to stay married in exchange for me granting her whatever she wanted.

As I tried to form a plan, Abby walked out of the bathroom, all dressed and cleaned up. Rational thought left my brain, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. The dress was tight across her chest before flaring out around her hips. And then there were her long, long legs. Abby hated being tall, but to me, she was just the right height for kissing.

What the fuck? No, no kissing. If she agreed to my crazy plan, then it’d be for a platonic year of marriage. Nothing more.

“Abby…”

She put up a hand to stop me. “Rafe, please, not now. I just want to go home.” She bit her bottom lip and looked off to the side. “I remembered a little about last night, about how we drove here together, although I still don’t know why.” She paused and added, “I can’t afford to hire a car to take me back. So, can you drive us to Starry Hills and agree to say nothing the whole time?”

“Abby, we can’t not talk about this. I’m pretty sure we’re married, and we need to think about the next steps.”

She finally met my gaze again, and irritation flashed in her eyes. “Next steps? There is only one step, Rafael, and that’s getting an annulment. We certainly aren’t the first couple to drunkenly get married and regret it in the morning.”

Her words shouldn’t sting. After all, we weren’t even really friends.

And yet, they did. Part of me wanted to cross the room, haul her against me, and say maybe it wasn’t a complete mistake.

But that would be confusing lust with more, and I could always find another woman to fuck later.

Think of that. You’ll be going back to England soon for a few weeks. Find some discreet pussy there. Your teammates can hook you up with women who know how to keep a secret.

And yet, the thought of meaningless sex with a woman who saw me merely as a trophy left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Rafe?”

I snapped back to the present. Realizing I needed to act fast, I asked, “Is there anything you really want in the world, Abigail? Be it a thing, an action, or what have you?”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

I took a step toward her. “I have a proposal, but it’ll only work if I can give you something in return for your help.”

After a beat, she rolled her eyes. “If you expect me to say I’m dreaming of your dick, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. We never did it last night, and now that you remember, you’re trying to think of ways to get into my pants. Well, no, Rafael. I don’t want your cock anywhere near me.”

Ouch. Well, that was the dump of cold water I needed.

After clearing my throat, I said, “I’m not talking about sex with me, Abigail. More like, do you want revenge on your ex? Or maybe to own a house? Something along those lines?”

She took a step backward. “What do you know about Travis?”

“Ah, so he has a name.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I could help you get back at him, you know. Say the word, and I’ll hire as many people as it takes to ruin the bastard.”

Her eyes searched mine. “Okay, now you’re not making any sense. Why the hell would you want to help me like that? You’ve been in and out of Starry Hills for months, and rarely said two words to me, even when I tried being nice at first. And now you’re wanting to know about some of the most painful moments of my life? Or, if I have revenge plans?”

“Was I really that much of an asshole to you?”

She blinked. “Yes. If you can’t recognize that, then I’m not sure you’re the guy I remember growing up.”

Now she’d touched a nerve. “I’m not that fucking innocent boy who left at eighteen. Life happened, shit happened, and if you’re waiting for me to joke and smile and think the world is full of rainbows and butterflies, you’ll be in for a hell of a wait, Abigail.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “You’re asking me if I think the world is nothing but happy? You lost your parents, but so did I. Then I lost half of my brothers for years and years. And eventually, I lost him, too, even if I never really had him to begin with.”

Her voice cracked, and it was like a dagger to my heart. And suddenly, I wanted to find every person who’d hurt her and make them apologize. Maybe even grovel.

Except then I’d be in that group, too. I had been a dick to her in recent months. However, facing my little sister and learning how she’d felt responsible for our parents’ death when it had clearly been my fault—combined with Weston Wolfe being there for Emmy when I couldn’t—and well, it’d made me hate the world even more.

But Abby hadn’t deserved any of my bullshit. I still remembered when we were younger and she was always so cheerful and happy. She and my sister had always thought they were the sneakiest kids ever as they followed me, West, and our other good friend, Mark, around.

However, something had happened to that little girl, much like something had happened to me.

The urge to protect her and try to make amends for being an ass coursed through me. Maybe time apart from her family, with me at her side to fight whatever battles came her way, could help Abby heal or at least move past the ass who’d broken her heart.

And even if it wasn’t with me, I wanted to try giving her the happy future she deserved. Helping my sister’s best friend would also be a good step toward making amends for the pain I’d caused Emmy.

Of course, that meant convincing Abby to say yes to my plan. To do that, I needed to step up. I blurted, “I’m sorry, Abby.”

She blinked. “Um, excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. I was a jerk to you, and I shouldn’t have been. You were one of the few who didn’t give me the side-eye whenever I first showed up back in Starry Hills last year.”

Her face softened a fraction. “Then why were you so mean to me? I could never figure that out. As far as I know, I’ve never done anything to hurt you or upset you or anything like that. Unless merely being West’s sister is enough to merit your vitriol.”

I ran my hand over the top of my head. “Of course not. What’s between West and I has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why?”

Fuck, was she really going to make me talk about feelings and shit?

I wasn’t about to spill my heart out, but I had to give her something. Otherwise, my plan would be a no-starter and I could kiss the success of my training facility goodbye. “Being back in Starry Hills is hard for me.”

Would that be enough for her?

But when I saw the flash of curiosity in Abby’s gaze, I knew it wouldn’t be. She said, “And yet, you continue coming back when you could live anywhere in the world. Why?”

I blew out a breath. “I’m trying to find where home is, now that I can’t play soccer any longer. I loved Manchester, but I never quite fit in. Just talking about something from my childhood would get blank stares from most of my teammates and friends. We all take for granted shared TV shows and foods and traditions and all that. Plus, I fucking hate tea and the coffee in England can’t compare to what they make at the Starry Eyes Bakery.”

Abby smiled. “True, Amber is a whiz with that espresso machine of hers. Anytime I try to make it at home, it’s just not the same.” She tilted her head. “But really? Coffee and talking about the old Disney Afternoon is what made you want to come back?”

There was more, of course. But I wasn’t about to spill everything.

“Part of it. But hell, even now, I’m still unsure if I want to stay in Starry Hills for the rest of my life. I like seeing new places and trying new foods. But it’d be nice to have a place to call home, somewhere permanent. I haven’t really had that since I was eighteen.”

“You did change teams a lot for a few years there, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t the first time that Abby had revealed how she’d followed my career over the years. “Yeah. Plus, I like living somewhere with land and a little bit of peace, which is harder to get when you’re a famous footballer in the UK. Er, I mean, a soccer player.”

“Emmy says you have a house in Starry Hills but have never invited her over. Why?”

“You’re nosey, aren’t you?”

“If you want nosey, then talk with my Aunt Lori. I’m just a concerned childhood friend.” She sniffed. “You’ve been a jerk to Emmy, too. You need to fix that.”

“I know.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Yes. But it’s complicated. Probably like it’s complicated with your brothers sometimes.”

“I guess.” She paused and asked, “Why did you ask me if there was something I wanted? Was there a point to it?”

“There was.” I took a step toward her and lifted her hand with the ring on it. “What would it take for you to keep this ring on for a year, Abigail?”