Chapter 7 Kieran
Kieran
Everything about flying on a private jet is supposed to be relaxing.
The younger me could never have imagined this kind of luxury.
I’d never been on a plane before I signed with Madrid.
It had been thrilling to get so much free stuff.
I’d worn the hideous red woolly flight socks for that entire flight because I’d thought you were supposed to.
Everyone took the piss out of me. I’d been called Socks at Madrid right until the day I left. Still, I’d take Socks over Fizzz.
I’d never been a fan of flying. Neither was Joanie, from the look of her.
She sat stiff and upright, with her eyes squeezed shut.
Her knuckles were white where she gripped the armrests.
I’d spent this past week watching her in the mirrors at the gym.
I had no time to babysit Mortimer Fox’s daughter, but this woman had unknowingly presented me with a problem.
She insisted on lifting beyond capacity without a spotter, and walking around that sketchy parking lot after dark in those little shorts.
I’d seen syringes scattered around by the exit.
There were all kinds of people in that underpass that led to the car park.
Every night, I’d had to walk back to my car at the same time as her, or I’d never be able to sleep, wondering whether she’d got home OK.
Joanie Fox wasn’t my problem, but if I didn’t keep an eye out, who would?
She didn’t seem to have a gym partner. The women’s team trained in the afternoon.
She must have had a reason to train alone at night.
I couldn’t turn a blind eye now I’d seen the problem.
Looking after her in the UK wasn’t part of my remit, but I didn’t want to have to explain to Mortimer that his little princess had crushed herself to death through her own stubbornness.
Not that I could moan too much. I couldn’t deny there was something .
. . interesting about watching her lift.
She didn’t stop even when the sweat was pouring and her cheeks were pink with the effort.
Not what I’d expected. These nepo-babies usually had no grit or determination.
Sean couldn’t handle any kind of disappointment on the pitch without a tantrum, but Joanie had surprised me.
It also didn’t hurt that her ass looked divine when she was bent over doing barbell rows.
Not that I should have been looking. Checking her out was definitely not within my remit.
I settled into the reclining leather seat.
Any attempt at relaxing just made the low engine rumble grow more intense.
Joanie fiddled with her seat belt for the hundredth time.
She sucked in gasps of air and blew them out slowly.
I could have happily done this trip in silence, but this woman looked ready to have a panic attack, and that wasn’t part of keeping her “safe and happy.”
I cleared my throat. “Not a fan of flying?”
She darted me a nervous glance. “I don’t love it.”
“You’re more likely to die in a car crash on the way to the airport than on the plane.”
Her pretty lips twisted with irritation before she smoothed her expression and gave me a polite smile. “That’s very . . . helpful. Thank you.”
I snorted. I would have preferred whatever she wanted to say to me when she’d looked annoyed. Better than insincere smiles and forced courtesy. That might have worked in her world, but I’d spent years honing my bullshit detector.
I opened my mouth, but she held up her hand to silence me. “Wait. They’re about to do the safety briefing.”
She shot up straight in her seat and turned to give the flight attendant her full attention.
I leaned close, inhaling her sweet cherry perfume. I was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, not baiting her, but I couldn’t help myself.
“You know there’s no medal for most attentive passenger.”
She stiffened. “There isn’t one for most obnoxious passenger either.”
She muttered the words so quietly, I would have missed them if I hadn’t been leaning so close.
Amusement went through me. I’d take snark over a fake smile any day.
The cabin lights dimmed and the plane halted on the runway.
I gripped the armrests, readying myself for takeoff.
The engine roared and the plane surged forward.
I glanced past Joanie out of the window and at the world shrinking away outside as we began a sharp ascent.
Joanie paled and her fingers shook in her lap. I could almost feel Mortimer Fox breathing down my neck, telling me to keep up my agreement. Maybe he’d snuck into the hold in his bat form. I’d have to do something to put her at ease. A deal was a deal.
“Look at me,” I said.
She shot me a worried glance.
“Do you know what I tell myself when I’m in the tunnel about to go on for a game?
Fear and excitement are the same thing. Your heart is racing, your stomach is churning.
It’s a matter of perception. I run onto the pitch feeling excited, not fearful, because I choose excitement.
This is going to be fun. I promise you.”
“Fun?”
I settled back in my seat, hoping she’d pick up on the casual vibe and relax.
“The weather is looking great out there. Nice to get away from England for a bit. I’m looking forward to some sun, aren’t you?
Look at it this way, we’re getting a holiday at the expense of Fizzz.
You don’t have to worry about a thing. We’re both Calverdale. I’ve got your back.”
Her eyes widened, incredulously. “You’ve got my back?”
Was it really so surprising? I didn’t want to be her enemy.
Mortimer had some notion that she was in need of a friend.
Maybe she was. Rehab after an injury was tough.
I’d known guys that hadn’t been able to return to the pitch.
It made you isolated. Everything was going on around you and you ended up a shadow on the sidelines.
“The way I see it, we’re here together as professionals representing the club. This commercial is annoying for me too. It will be easier if we support each other,” I said.
She turned to give me her full attention. She had a kind of unexpected innocence about her—those wide hazel eyes and pouty lips gave her an earnest expression. Sweet and wholesome-looking.
She gave me a wary glance. “Fine. We’re representing the club. We can be professional.”
“We can do better than professional.”
Pink flushed her face. “What do you mean?”
What did I mean? I just wanted to put her at ease and I’d need to get creative because she looked at me as though I was a wild dog.
My insides felt heavy and warm. This was the same feeling I had in the gym, like I wanted to make her life easier somehow.
This was the last person who needed me to make her life easier.
She’d had the world handed to her on a silver platter, but I sensed something vulnerable lurking in her shy glances.
“We’re the faces of Fizzz. I don’t enjoy any of this PR stuff, but we could get through it together as friends. We can be . . . Fizzz buddies,” I said.
“Fizzz buddies?”
“That’s right. Fizzz buddies.”
She let out a soft chuckle. “Just because you keep saying those words doesn’t mean it’s a thing.”
“It’s definitely a thing.”
It wasn’t a thing. It was a gimmick. A way to fast-track to friends and make this easier on both of us.
Mortimer would be expecting a good report from her when she came home.
I’d never been an A-star student, but I couldn’t afford to mess up this assignment.
Getting along with this woman was my shot at the World Cup.
“We’re a whole step up on the friendship ladder. We’re partners on the endorsement front line, bonded together by sugar and artificial additives. You have nothing to worry about with any of this. I’ll look out for you. We can have fun with this. I promise,” I said.
More importantly than any of this Fizzz buddies nonsense, we were teammates. This would be easier and better for the club if we got on.
A small smile lifted her lips, and for once it looked genuine. “OK. We can be friends.”
“Fizzz buddies,” I corrected. “We should probably work on a handshake or something . . . or a fist bump. Let’s make it official. A Fizzz bump?”
She chuckled again. “Please stop saying the word Fizzz. It’s making my brain hurt.”
“I’ll stop saying it if you stop leaving me hanging. Refusing a fist bump is poor etiquette. In some cultures it’s downright offensive.”
“What cultures?”
I waggled my fist impatiently. “Just do the Fizzz bump.”
She tapped her fist against mine and I noticed how small it looked compared to my hand. My pulse quickened at the contact. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Engine rumbling and faint beeps sounded. Now that we were friends, we’d better make some friendly conversation. I racked my brain, scrambling for something, but she beat me to it.
“I can’t believe we’re endorsing this stuff.” She shot me a shy smile. “When it turns out to have fatal side effects, people are going to come for us.”
“That’s when you’re on your own. Every official Fizzz representative for themselves.”
“I thought we were brothers-in-arms? Pioneers on the Fizzz frontier?”
“Nope. Not then. I’m going into witness protection.”
A laugh burst out of her. It was loud enough to attract the attention of the flight attendant, who gave us an amused look.
Joanie turned her face to the window, peering at the endless line of perfect blue where the earth kissed the sky.
I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her delicate profile.
The mother must have been a looker. Mortimer Fox’s genes hadn’t even tried.
I had a strange flickering in my chest. A sudden nervousness.
Annoying. Butterflies were something women got, not grown men, and this woman was everything I hated about the privileged jerks at Calverdale.
Sudden pressure forced us back into our seats. Joanie gave a yelp of alarm.
I leaned closer. “Getting up in the air is the worst bit. Soon we’ll be cruising.”
Rattling filled the cabin. The plane gave a small lurch, and a cry left Joanie’s lips.
Her hand flew out and grabbed mine, gripping tightly as if I was her only hope of stability.
The air thickened between us. I held perfectly still, my heart pounding at the sudden contact and the weight of her vulnerability.
“It’s OK. Just turbulence. It won’t be long.” I wanted to be reassuring but my voice sounded thick and unsteady.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t always been like this.” Her voice was a whisper.
The fear etched on her face made my heart contract. I hardly dared ask, but it felt important. “Like what?”
She frowned. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
The plane leveled out. Her gaze dropped to where her fingers trembled in mine. She snapped her hand away and turned her face to stare out of the small window. Mortimer’s words from the locker room niggled in my brain.
I’m hoping that getting involved with the PR side of things might rebuild her confidence.
Maybe there was some truth in her father’s words. An ACL tear was a tough break. She was working her backside off in that gym. I knew because I’d hardly been able to tear my eyes away from it.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“What for?”
“For grabbing you like that.”
My fingers tingled with warmth from her desperate grip. “No worries. Fizzz buddies now, remember?”