Page 21 of Forbid It

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“What’s his name again?” Pip asks.

My thoughts are still swirling with memories. His unbuttoned shirt that showed a sliver of his toned chest, his grin as he slowly inched my dress up my thighs, and I’m so distracted by the image that I forget I’m supposed to be being sneaky. “Robbie King.” I tell Pip far too quickly.

I keep my gaze on the pitch even as I see her grin widen out of the corner of my eye. I spent every second leading up to this game rehearsing how indifferent I was going to be when I saw him again. I was barely going to even acknowledge him. I don’t know him at all. Never seen him before in my life. What’s his name again? Maybe I’ll even try and shake his hand.

I should have known inviting my best friends wasn’t a good idea. I know Pip’s about to jump at the opportunity to needle me for some gossip, but a rising cheer pulls my attention back to the game.

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This time, Robbie’s teammates are in a more tight formation and the ball bounces between them as the other team struggles to regain possession. Robbie finally breaks away and races towards his goal. The crowd around us swells as he runs with the ball, the opposition lagging behind him. He’s so fast, his legs are a blur as he pelts across the pitch.

At the last minute, a pink shirt catches up to him, crowding around his back. Just as pink shirt aims his boot at the ball, Robbie kicks it and it arches through the air, hitting the top corner of the goal.

Even I know what that means. We jump up from our seats with a cheer, my still full beer spilling down my forearm, but I don’t care. Adrenaline is pumping and I grin as I watch Robbie run to the sidelines to celebrate his first goal in the MLS.

ROBBIE

2-1. Barely.

I managed to score one goal and Santi the other. At least the first game Cassie attended I didn’t completely fall on my face. Not that I care that she was in the crowd, of course.

I pull my shirt back on over my head, the material sticking to my damp skin from my shower. Adrenaline is still buzzing through my blood, and I’m sure I’ll need a few hours on the bike before I can calm down enough to sleep.

“King,” Florent calls from his office. I swing my bag over my shoulder and cross the locker room to his side. “Good work out there.”

I nod my head, glancing over my shoulder. It wasn’t the worst game of my career but I still haven’t forgotten the pass that Hunter missed.

“Hamilton wants you to head to the suite.”

“Really?” I bite out.

Florent shrugs. “Better you than me.”

I bite my tongue. No doubt Hamilton has a crowd of people in there that he wants to tart me around to. I’m literally getting dragged around by my bollocks at this point.

I take a steadying breath before turning on my heels. The family and friends suite is on the other side of the stadium, so it takes at least five minutes for me to stride down the hallway.

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