Playing Dirty (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) (3 page)

Really bloody special.

And that definitely wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Chapter Three

Kate

After seven hours in a cramped jet, I was dying to get out and stretch my legs. Thankfully, the plane wasn’t stuffed full of tattooed soccer players like the online ads had suggested, but there were a couple of squabbling kids to my right that kept me distracted for most of the time we were in the air. I’d never really been a huge fan of kids, and I’d always thought I’d be the kind of woman who never had them, but there was something so cute about this pair. Even their little accents were adorable.

“Are the little ones bothering you?” A kindly woman looked at me from over her knitting. “These were the only two seats together on board.”

I blushed. “No, they’re fine,” I said. “They’re cute.”

The woman gave me a tired smile. “Just wait until you have wee ones of your own,” she said in a sage tone. “They won’t be so cute then.”

Aside from the kids, the ride had been pretty quiet, and although I normally liked flying, the last couple of hours had been torture. My ass ached from the thinly padded seat and I felt like I’d been breathing in the same air for my whole life.

I couldn’t wait to get a breath of the fresh Manchester air.

“Kate!” Lizzy screamed my name as she saw me finally enter the arrivals lobby, and she threw herself in my direction. I barely had time to recognize her before she hurtled across the room and wrapped her thin arms around my neck, and I was surprised to find tears in my eyes. What was happening to me? Why the hell was I becoming so sentimental? I’d only seen her a few weeks ago before she left.

“God, it’s good to see you,” I said, inhaling the floral fragrance of her shampoo. “You look great!”

She really did. Instead of her usual ripped jeans and button-down, Lizzy was wearing a cute navy blue sundress and flat tan sandals, and she looked more European than I’d ever seen her. Her hair was in a messy fishtail braid, and I caught myself admiring it from all angles. I was going to have to get her to teach me how to do that. Lizzy and I could have been twins, except she had lighter brown hair compared to my dark shade, and she was slightly shorter and thinner. Locks and height aside, we had the same pert nose, the same cheekbones, and the same green eyes.

She stepped back and gestured down. “I went shopping,” she said.

“Well, you look amazing,” I said, more modestly this time. “So, what are we doing once we get my luggage? Lunch?”

Lizzy grinned. “Not exactly. But you’re gonna love it,” she said, taking my hand and swinging me around in a circle. I felt slightly dizzy; my body clock was still set to American time and it felt like it should be the middle of the night. But instead, Manchester was sunny and bright.

“What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?” I asked, arching a suspicious brow.

“We’re going to a football match!”

I wrinkled my nose. “I haven’t seen you in a month and you’re dragging me to a soccer game?”

Lizzy grinned. “It’ll be fun, I promise. You can drink some wine there. And sis, it’s
football
here. Not soccer. You sound like a Yank.”

“I
am
a Yank!” I said. “And so are you, missy.”

“Whatever. But I know you’ll like this one,” Lizzy said, her voice packed with enthusiasm. “I won a contest and we get to go meet and greet the team in the locker room after the match.”

“Oh, really?” I said, wondering how that was actually a contest prize. “Isn’t that kinda gross? It probably smells like sweaty dude in there, Liz.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Where’s your sense of adventure? They’re like, the hottest guys on the planet.”

I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut. At least I could use this as leverage for the rest of my trip whenever I wanted to do something. I grinned at the thought; Lizzy owed me at least three shopping trips for dragging me straight from the airport to a sweaty soccer game even though she knew I didn’t like sports.

“Oh, we’re going home first,” she said, as if reading my mind. “That way you can change and shower.”

I looked down at my boyfriend jeans and artfully-wrinkled linen tunic. “I think this is fine for a game.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “For someone who has a stylist for her own TV show, you should know better,” she said. Linking her arm through mine, she led me out to the parking lot and to her tiny little rental car.

We zoomed through the countryside and I gripped my door with blind fear. Lizzy laughed when she saw my expression.

“I know, it’s scary suddenly being on this side of the road,” she said, her voice softening. “But it’s nothing compared to driving. You should try shifting with your left hand!”

I had to keep my eyes closed for the rest of the drive, and when we pulled up at Lizzy’s apartment, she helped me lug my bags inside.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I made a room in the living room for you.”

“Cool, thanks!”

Lizzy’s apartment was tiny but comfortable. She’d dragged a screen over to the corner and made a little private area with a camp bed and a nightstand for me.

“I know it’s not ideal,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But I figured you’d rather have your own space.”

I grinned. “This is great,” I said. “Honestly, it’s perfect. I love it.”

And I did. Lizzy’s apartment was about as far away from mine as possible. My apartment was rather large, elegantly bare, with high ceilings and everything painted white. Lizzy’s looked like it was part of a building from another time, with a smooth tiled floor and dark appliances. It already felt like I was a million miles away from NYC, and I was even starting to feel better about going to the soccer match.

This trip was
exactly
what I needed.

I took a shower and got dressed in the same boyfriend jeans with a different top. The weather was humid, so I braided my hair in a lazy crown and pinned the ends up, and after a touch of lipstick and mascara, I was ready to go. Happily, I noticed that my reflection was a lot different than the Kate of ‘Keeping Current With Kate’. I actually looked relaxed.

“Let’s go,” Lizzy said. She was bouncing up and down excitedly. “This is gonna be so great!”

“I’m bringing a book,” I said with a teasing grin, pointing inside my bag. “And I might even take it out and read it depending on how things go.”

Lizzy opened her green eyes wide and stared at me. “They’re playing Liverpool,” she said dramatically. “That’s like, huge rivalry, Kate.”

“That’s cool,” I said breezily. “But really I’m just looking forward to being outside with some wine and a good read.”

Lizzy chuckled, but she didn’t say anything. I had to laugh as well; this was so typical of us. She’d always been the tomboy out of the two of us, into every sport with a ball and cute guys. I usually watched the Super Bowl with friends, but that was it. Aside from that, the closest I’d been to sports in recent years was when I’d done a special edition on how harmful jock culture could be to young women in our home country, featuring a woman who’d been gang-raped by a drunken college lacrosse team at a house party.

The football stadium was packed with fans, all done up in face paint and scarves featuring a red, black, and yellow pattern. Interested, I stared at the emblem. I did have to admit, at least European logos were cooler than American ones, and I felt an odd sense of excitement rush over me as Lizzy led us to our seats. We were packed in like sardines, but the good mood of the crowd was infectious.

When Lizzy caught me smiling, she grinned. “I knew you’d have fun here,” she said. “Look! Those are the guys!”

She pointed down at the field, and I saw tiny handsome figures in red running out on the pitch. We were so far away that I had to use Lizzy’s binoculars to zoom in, and when I recognized the features of one of the guys, I gasped. It was
him
. Jay Walsh—the very same guy that I’d seen prominently displayed all over the Manchester pages I’d visited online.

I groaned. “I recognize that guy,” I said, pointing in his direction. “He’s Jay Walsh. When I was booking my flight, there were tons of ads with his face on them. And erm…his body too.”

I recalled his tattooed chest and sculpted abs, and I felt a tingling warmth between my legs, which I immediately ignored.

Lizzy raised her eyebrows. “Oh, my god, you actually remembered his name?” She cackled and I blushed hotly. “He’s like, the most famous one on the team! Isn’t he dreamy?”

He was, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right. “He’s okay, I guess, if you like those big beefy types,” I replied with a shrug.

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Come on, just admit he’s hot!” she said. “It’s okay to be normal for once, Kate.”

“Fine…he’s kinda hot,” I said, blushing as Jay’s eyes swept over the crowd and loud female voices shrieked their approval. His eyes seemed to linger on me, but I knew that was impossible. After all, we were in the nosebleed seats of the stadium.

Once the match started, I felt myself zone out a little bit. The crowd booed every time Liverpool scored, and by the middle of the game I was starting to get back into the energy. It was so different from an American game; the energy was electric, happy. There seemed to be a very friendly, blue-collar attitude among almost all of the onlookers, and I almost felt like I was bonding with everyone else there. Lizzy was clearly having the time of her life, screaming and cheering every time Manchester scored. Plus, the men were gorgeous. They moved across the field like spirited, sleek animals, and Jay especially had a kind of magnetism about him that made me keep searching for him. Every time he scored, he’d smirk and look around the stadium, taking clear pride in his popularity.

“Seems like a big head on that one,” I said, pointing at Jay again as I passed the binoculars back to Lizzy as the first half of the game ended. “He’s awfully proud of himself.”

“Probably because he’s a hotshot football player,” Lizzy said with an arched brow. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t be proud of that?”

I frowned. “It’s cool and all. Good for him,” I said. “But I mean, he’s not really making a difference, is he? He’s getting rich playing a sport, and aside from that, all I’ve read about him is that he goes out clubbing a lot and has sex with tons of women.”

Lizzy looked at me and shook her head. “I guess the media does focus on his playboy side a lot, but he’s actually a pretty good guy,” she said. “He’s from Belfast, and he spends a lot of time working with charities up there. I think he grew up really poor or something.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling slightly guilty for having judged the guy so quickly. But then as I kept watching him, I saw him lightly slap the ass of a squealing female fan who’d run out to hug him as the team headed off the field for halftime, and I rolled my eyes. Just because someone contributed to charity didn’t mean they weren’t a sleazy ass; maybe my initial assessment of him had been right after all.

When halftime ended, Lizzy hoisted the binoculars to her eyes, and she let out a soft little sigh as she watched her favorite players run around. She didn’t say much for a while, and I realized how utterly enchanted she was with the game. It was obviously something that meant a lot to her, and I started feeling guilty for giving her crap earlier.

Manchester United ended up winning the game, and Lizzy and the other fans went nuts, jumping up and screaming and hollering loudly. I even got caught up in the excitement and started clapping, smiling as I saw everyone’s utterly thrilled reactions. However, I was also absolutely starving, so part of me was definitely glad that it was over. Maybe I could talk Lizzy into finding a nice pub for dinner later.

I was almost starting to salivate, thinking of the scotch eggs that I’d eat, when Lizzy tugged at my sleeve. “Come on,” she hissed in my ear. “We’re going to the locker room now!”

“We don’t have to wait for them to change?”

“No. And don’t worry, it’ll only be a few minutes,” she said. “Come on, I think they’ll be nice. As long as we don’t go in there wearing Liverpool banners, at least.”

“Damn, I was totally gonna do that,” I teased, and she giggled.

Ruffling her hair, I fell into step behind her in the crush of people. The huge crowd was moving down and out of the stadium, like a slow-moving, sweaty river. The closer to the pitch we got, the stronger the scent of stale beer became. Some of the men leaving the stadium were drunk and really raucous, and I clung to Lizzy’s hands, not wanting to be separated from her. The accents were different than what I’d always imagined them to be—not posh London, but harsher, with lots of emphasis on the vowels. I couldn’t even understand what some of the drunk guys were talking about, and despite my slight discomfort, I couldn’t help but grin. I felt as far away from NYC as ever.

Lizzy showed some papers to a security guard outside the locker room, and he waved us in. The air was hot and humid, like a shower, and it smelled of pure masculinity. I wrinkled my nose, but in reality it wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d expected. It actually smelled kind of good.
God, what is happening to me
? I thought.
One day away from home and I’m turning into a soccer groupie
.

We weren’t the only fans going in; there was a crowd of screaming, shrieking, squealing girls, and as soon as the team appeared, the girls launched themselves at various players. Jay Walsh had the biggest fan crowd to contend with, and I watched as he grinned and obligingly took selfies with all of his fans.