Page 15 of The Keeper and I
“You’re certain we haven’t met?” she questioned.
“Positive.”
She raised a challenging eyebrow. “How?”
“Because there is no fucking way I’d forget meeting you.”
Her mouth fell into a small O shape, and her eyes widened. His heart pounded, alarmed by his sudden honesty, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. It wasn't like he would ever see her again. Sure, she’d be at the match in a couple days, but he would be on the pitch, and she in the stands, one of the many faces in the crowd—though he was certain he’d be able to spot her if he really looked. So why not?
Pink rose to her cheeks again. “Oh.”
He cleared his throat. “Shall we say goodnight?”
“Yeah, um, thank you,” she said. “I’ve probably said that too much. But I really am grateful to you.”
“Happy to help,” he said. “Goodnight, Laci.”
“Goodnight, Jordan,” she returned as her eyes searched his. “And…good luck on Sunday. I’ll be rooting for you secretly.”
He cracked a small smile. “Well, I think that’s enough to call us even.”
A little laugh tumbled out of her, and she took a step through the gate. He watched her walk up the path to the door. She hesitated on the steps, turned, and opened her mouth like she was going to say something else but decided against it, then she turned to put the key in the lock and open it. As she crossed over the threshold, she stole one last look at him.
“Goodnight again!” she called.
God, she was so fucking cute. “G’night.”
She beamed at him and then closed the door at last. He gazed at it for a moment, going over everything in his head. What did she think of him? Had he been kind enough? Was he too honest? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Surely, that was the last time he’d see Laci Miller.
Chapter 4
StamfordBridgebuzzedasa sea of blue filed into the stands. The sun kept trying to peer out from behind the clouds, but they were thick and moving fast across the sky. Jax led his siblings and Britt to their seats. Laci dutifully took up the rear. She gazed out at the players warming up, and her eyes found Jordan in the far goal, blocking practice shots. He was taller in real life than he looked on the pitch. It almost made her face warm to know that. He was ridiculously handsome. Pretending to be his girlfriend had been fun despite the frightening circumstances that had forced the ruse. She wished he’d asked her out or something before he left. She felt like she’d given him plenty of opportunity, but he must not have been interested. She resolved to not let that get her down and enjoy her day with her brothers and Tate’s new girlfriend.
Britt was a sweetheart from what Laci gleaned so far and with a fascinating background. Her parents had moved to London from Lagos, Nigeria, started a business and then started their family. Her father and sister were hearing, but her mother was deaf. Tate joked that he envied her evenly matched family.
“How are the chips?” Laci signed to Britt.
“Great!” Britt signed back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Laci replied. “Halftime rounds on you then?”
Britt grinned. “Let’s be real, it’s on Tate.”
“Fair enough,” Laci giggled.
Tate distracted Britt by taking her hand, and she beamed at him. Laci glanced over at Jordan again and a hint—a tiny nudge—of jealousy went through her. There Tate was, younger than Laci, and finding love while Laci had never so much as tasted it. The closest she’d come was a fleeting moment of make believe in order to get a creep to leave her alone. She sighed and popped a hot chip into her mouth.
“Oi,” she said to her family after swallowing. “I need a picture for my Instagram story.”
Britt and Tate made no protest, but Jax rolled his eyes. Even so, when Laci lifted her phone, he leaned in with a smile. She snapped a great shot of them with herself in the front, Tate with his arm around Britt, and Jax beaming at the top of the screen. She brought up her story and added the photo along with the Chelsea song “Blue is the Colour” and a couple of blue hearts, then posted it.
“Thank you!” she told them with a smile.
Before long, the match was underway. Ethan Knight scored the opening goal for Chelsea twenty minutes in, and Laci cheered with the rest of the crowd. Her smile faded when she saw Jordan. Even from a distance, she noticed the way his muscles tensed. He shouted at his defenders, who nodded in acknowledgment before they jogged back toward the midfield to reset. She had the strangest urge to comfort him, like it would have been the most natural thing in the world, but she shook it off. Her imagination was getting carried away again.
She had actually dreamed of Jordan that night they met. Only, they weren’t like the people who met in that pub. They were at a ball. All the women had been in empire waist gowns that swished and jewels that glittered as they waltzed around the ballroom floor. Laci, in her own elegant dress, found Jordan standing away from the crowd. She offered him a gloved hand, and they snuck outside to the garden, where they danced alone, with no music but for the beating of their hearts.
She’d chalked it up to the eventful night and watchingBridgertonbefore bed.