Page 49 of The Keeper and I

At the start of the second half, Jordan took his place in the goal directly in front of Laci and her brothers. She couldn’t help it, she ogled him—his strong shoulders as he stretched, his hand nearly touching the crossbar when he reached up, the muscles of his back as his kit rippled across them, his backside—she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” she said, half to herself.

Jax gaped at her. “Do you think I’m someone else?”

She swatted his arm. “Oh, come on.”

“Seriously, do I look like one of your girlfriends?”

“Jax, it takes a man that is confident in his masculinity to admit another man is hot,” Tate added.

“Oi, I didn’t come to this match to get ganged up on,” Jax argued.

Laci ignored them and got to her feet, standing right behind the barrier. She cupped her hands around her mouth to make her voice louder. “Jordan!”

To her delight, he turned his head, finding her right away.

She smiled and waved. “Hi, babe!”

He waved back. “Hey, angel!” Then he spotted her brothers behind her and tugged off his gloves. And he signed, “Hello, lads.”

Laci’s mouth fell open. Jordan learned sign language? Had he known it all this time? She doubted that since he had seemed confused when they first met up at Coffeeify. He must have started learning it after he met her. She turned to look at Jax and Tate. They appeared equally stunned.

“Hello,” Tate signed back, a slow grin parting his lips.

“You…” Laci’s eyes watered. “You learned to sign?”

“A bit.” Jordan shrugged. “Just in case.”

The game was about to start again, so she didn’t have time to reply before he turned around to face the pitch. One hand covered her heart as she resumed her seat.

“That is the sweetest thing,” she said quietly.

“Are you quite sure this is fake?” Tate wondered.

“Yes,” she said. “It has to be.”

She was leaving in a few months. And Jordan didn’t believe in relationships. He wasn’t interested in a real commitment. All that said, he was certainly making a convincing show of being a boyfriend. Being there for her when Dane showed up was expected. It was the whole reason they were doing this. But comforting her through the fireworks? Learning sign language to communicate with her brother? That wasn’t something she expected out of a real boyfriend, much less a fake one.

She didn’t have long to dwell before the second half was underway. Thirty long minutes passed with Jordan as mostly a spectator. The Wolverhampton striker got near him once and took a shot. It went straight into his chest, and he fell securely down on top of it. Stanmore was playing better than they had in the first half, but they had nothing to show for it. The score was still one to one.

Laci could sense the frustration coming off Jordan in waves as he rolled his shoulders back to prepare for the goal kick. His chest rose as he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and his mouth turned into a set frown. Laci’s breath caught in her throat. Why was that so hot?

Jordan released the ball with a punt that resounded through the stadium. All eyes followed it as it sailed over the heads of both teams, arcing over midfield, before it fell behind the Wolves keeper inside the penalty box, then bounced right into the goal. The stadium held its collective breath.

“Oh my God,” Laci whispered. “That’s a—”

“GOAL!” the announcer cried over the loudspeaker.

The stadium erupted. Jordan’s teammates sprinted down the field, but he didn’t wait for them. He hurtled around the left post and leaped over the boundary into the stands. Laci didn’t even get a word out before his mouth crashed into hers. This kiss was unlike the one at the gala in every way. It was frenzied, fiery, and fierce. His beard scratched her chin, but she didn’t care. She was dazed and breathless when they parted. He moved only to shield her from the fans that had surged forward to get their hands on him.

Their eyes locked, and suddenly, they were the only two people around. She didn’t hear the noise of the crowd, only the pounding of her heart and the sound of Jordan’s labored breathing. His cheeks were as flushed as hers must have been. She beamed at him.

“Well done, you,” she said.

He replied with another kiss, softer and swifter than the first. Security ushered him back onto the pitch. His teammates were on him in a millisecond—leaping on his back, pounding his chest, clapping his shoulders. He spared a last glance at Laci with an intoxicated smile still on his lips where she could also see the shine of her lip gloss under the bright lights. He didn’t bother to wipe it off.

The ninetieth minute arrived, and the official held up the sign with a bright red two that indicated two minutes of stoppage. The Wolves had not come up with a chance for an equalizer. In another two minutes, Jordan’s incredible goal would be the winner. Laci’s heart pounded as the Wolves forwards sprinted toward Jordan.