Chapter 14 Kieran
Kieran
A garlic and herb aroma wafted around the small kitchen.
I cooked, and Joanie sat with her feet up on the couch in the adjoining living area.
It was too warm to light a fire in the rustic stone hearth, but Joanie had lit a few citronella candles.
She was deep in concentration, her head buried in a book.
Strands of gold fell loose from her ponytail, framing her pretty face.
It was strange to share a living space again. Jack still lived at home with Mum. I stirred the tomato sauce into the pasta. It wasn’t an extravagant meal. No doubt Joanie would be accustomed to better, but I’d been cooking for one for so long.
“Dinner is served,” I called.
Joanie rested her book on her lap, lifted her glasses, and rubbed her right eye. Instead of taking a seat at the dining table, she peered outside at the courtyard.
“It’s still warm . . .” She bit her lip. “Do you fancy eating outside?”
Why not? It was nice. This was supposed to be a holiday. “Sure.”
We grabbed our plates and went outside. The fading sun drenched the moss-crusted cobblestones in golden light. The main house was less than a mile away, but the surrounding gardens and rolling fields made it feel like we were alone in the middle of nowhere.
I took a seat at the small rickety wooden table underneath the tangled olive trees, and Joanie sat opposite.
Gentle munching from the cows in the neighboring field drifted to my ears.
How could any place be so peaceful you could hear cows eating?
A funny thought came into my head unbidden.
This is romantic. Almost a date, which was daft.
If I was trying to impress a woman, I would have done better than pasta. Better than sweatpants and Air Jordans.
Joanie was dressed casually too, in a sweatshirt and shorts, but it only emphasized her natural beauty. She’d caught the sun today. Light freckles bloomed on her cheeks.
She shot me a glance and swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for cooking.”
“It’s just pasta.”
“It looks amazing.”
There was something different about her since our trip to the medical center, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was the excitement about meeting Ramirez. It hadn’t exactly taken much persuasion for her to stay. I’d expected more of a challenge.
“Looking forward to meeting Ramirez?”
Her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink. “Yes.”
“You like him?”
A faint smile played on her lips. She became engrossed in twisting the pasta on her fork. “I respect him. No one can do what he could in his prime.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Jealousy curdled heavy and twisting in my stomach.
The guy was pushing fifty. Although it didn’t slow him down.
Joanie would definitely be his type. He liked them young and pretty.
He was a great football mentor, but he had a roaming eye, and he didn’t do commitment.
Maybe that was fine for Joanie, but he’d be a recipe for heartache if she wanted something serious.
“You respect him professionally or you want to fuck him?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You don’t have to use that kind of language.” Her tone hardened. “And I respect him professionally. I’m not into footballers anyway. I know exactly what you’re like with women.”
I could have dropped it, but irritation swirled behind my ribs. What exactly was she accusing all footballers of?
“What do you mean? What are footballers like with women?”
She lowered her gaze to her food and bit her lip. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
I dropped my fork next to my plate. “No. Go on. I want to know what you think.”
She drew a breath and looked me squarely in the eyes. “You treat women like chewing gum. When they lose their flavor, you spit them out.”
My jaw clenched. Plenty of guys on the team were like that, but not me. Mum would be mortified if I carried on the way some of these guys did.
I licked my lips to quell my frustration. She couldn’t have got me more wrong. “That’s not me at all.”
“If you say so.”
I do bloody say so! I gave an incredulous snort. “You’re a footballer.”
“You know I’m talking about male footballers.
You can’t deny it.” Her eyes flashed with an unexpected fire.
“I’ve seen the team in the VIP area of nightclubs.
There are women waiting for you every night.
I don’t see any of you ever saying no.” She focused her gaze back on her pasta.
“And that’s fine. It’s none of my business. ”
I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Maybe a couple of guys on the team are like that. That’s not me.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. You’re an adult. Do what you want.”
A snap of irritation went through me. She’d better not think I was like Sean Wallace. The way he talked about women was sickening. My mum had raised me right. I was still just a kid from Leeds that had done well playing football. It mattered to me that you treated people well.
“I don’t want you to put me in the same boat as some of these guys. I’m nothing like them.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t matter to me what Sean and the rest of you get up to.”
What the fuck? It mattered to me. Most footballers were so used to thinking with their feet, they forgot to use their brains.
Calverdale was even worse. Most of my teammates thought with what was hanging between their legs, but that wasn’t me.
She’d lumped us together as though we were all the same.
I shoved my plate away and stormed to the villa.
Joanie dodged in front of me, peering at me uncertainly from behind her sensible glasses. “Why are you running off?”
“Because this conversation has made me lose my appetite.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got me all wrong. I’m nothing like Sean Wallace. I respect women. I keep my dating life private, but if it makes you happy to put me in the same boat with a bunch of pricks, then do it.”
“What do you care what boat I put you in?”
“Because we’re friends, remember? Friends put each other in the correct boats.”
A strange, awkward excitement thrummed between us, so thick it was palpable.
That was a lie. We weren’t friends. That’s what I’d put my mind to, but something strange was happening between us.
I didn’t know what the fuck this feeling was, but it wasn’t friendship.
My heart pounded at her nearness. I had that weird nervous fluttering in my chest that seemed only to happen in her presence.
My gaze dropped involuntarily to her lips. They looked so soft and inviting. What would it be like to kiss her? To touch her? Friends didn’t kiss. Friends shouldn’t have even been thinking about kissing. Something had shifted when we shared that bed together. One brush of her foot had made me hard.
There was chemistry between us, whether or not we wanted it.
I’d felt it on the plane when she gripped my hand so tightly.
It had only got worse since I’d had to share a bed with her, and now I’d seen that vibrator in her case.
It had made my head fill with dirty images.
All I could think about was her pleasuring herself right across the landing from me.
Mortimer wanted me to be a good boy. None of my thoughts about his daughter were good-boy thoughts.
What the fuck was wrong with me? Mortimer’s words rang in my head. I know what men like you are like.
Anger lashed inside. Mortimer had warned me off his daughter because he knew I wouldn’t be able to help myself.
In Mortimer’s mind, I’d crawled out of the gutter, the son of a hooligan, and now people threw endless amounts of cash in my direction because I knew how to kick a ball. To him, men like me were a problem.
Mortimer thought his daughter was too good for me, and he was right.
I hadn’t lasted a couple of days in her presence without wanting to get her between the sheets.
She was sweet, and sincere, and I just wanted her so badly.
Mortimer had known this would happen because he’d seen me for what I was.
If I had any decency, I’d leave this woman alone.
I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but I couldn’t. My words came out sharp and lashing. “I’m going inside. Believe what you want.”
“Why are you like this?” She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “You can be so nice. I saw you at that wedding and in that hospital waiting room. But most the time, you’re like this . . .”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Prickly.”
I took a deep breath. Yes, I was prickly, but I had my reasons.
I could build a ladder to the sky with reasons.
The dad that had walked out. The pressure of trying to step into his shoes.
The shithole estate I grew up on with the threat of a fight lurking around every corner.
Plants grew prickles and thorns because they needed them to survive. That’s all I’d ever been trying to do.
Joanie peered up at me. Her eyes were soft and kind behind her glasses.
The one person I wasn’t angry with was her.
She had done nothing wrong. She was quiet and reserved on the surface, but gold glimmered when you dug deeper.
I’d been wrong about her. She wasn’t the spoiled nepo-baby I’d thought at first glance.
I’d watched her in that gym working so hard.
I’d felt her vulnerability and goodness.
Joanie was a good person. Everyone thought I was an abrasive arsehole, and maybe I was, but I didn’t want Joanie to think that.
I looked skyward and counted to ten in my head. When I met Joanie’s gaze again, I was calmer. “I had a lot of shit going on in my childhood that made me prickly. It wasn’t nice where I grew up. You had to fight for everything you got.”
“But look at you now. You’re in the Premier League. Who are you fighting now?”