by Sara Rider
“About six,” he answered, trying to decipher the faded chicken scratch scrawled on the paper.
“Ugh. Just once, I wish I could sleep in.” She pulled her pillow on top of her face.
“Hmm, looks like that’s number four on this list.”
Lainey threw the pillow on the ground and rolled toward him with a look of terror on her face. “Give me that.” She tried to snatch the paper from him, but Gabe was much quicker. He held it just out of reach.
“Tell me what you have planned for the Falcons’ fund-raiser.”
She scowled. “That’s playing dirty.”
“You said last night not to go easy on you in the competition. I need to use every advantage.” Gabe gave her a devilish smile. He couldn’t help it. Teasing her was just too much fun and he loved seeing that spark of energy whenever she was angry or determined. Or turned-on. He definitely liked that switch.
She dropped back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. “Fine. Just get it over with. But if you ever think about holding that list against me, I will rip your balls off.”
Gabe chuckled, even though he knew she was completely serious. “Let’s see. ‘Number one: get a haircut with bangs.’ ” He glanced over at her. “You need a list to remind yourself to get a haircut?”
“It’s my bucket list of things to do after I win the World Cup.”
“Most people have a bucket list of things to go before they die, not after a victory. You do realize you won the World Cup, right?”
She made a frustrated noise. “Winning doesn’t count if you never got to touch the cup.”
For the first time, the reality of her situation dawned on him. After every World Cup, FIFA took the trophy back after the big game and locked it away. The winning team got only a replica. The only chance to touch the trophy was in the moments after the final whistle blew, signaling the most important victory of a soccer player’s life.
Nothing could ever impart the same joy that standing on that Norwegian field with her teammates, raising that glorious, golden statue could have provided. The trophy was a stunning masterpiece of curling, glossy metal that symbolized all the dedication and sacrifice it took to make that magical moment. All the anguish and splendor of creating an indelible unison of eleven feisty, unyielding athletes.
Lainey missed that moment.
He knew she wouldn’t want his pity, so he kept it to himself. “Hmm, I’m not really a fan of bangs, but we can get you a haircut today.”
With impossible speed, she bolted upright, leaned across his body, and tried to snatch the paper once again. The press of her lush breasts against his chest nearly distracted him. Nearly. But once again, Gabe was quicker. “ ‘Number two: get a library card. Number three: make friends. Learn to make homemade salsa’? Seriously? This looks like a list of chores to take care of after you move, not a bucket list.”
“If you don’t like it, give it back.”
Gabe rolled out of bed and gathered his clothes. “Not a chance.”
“Where are you going?”
He tossed her panties at her. “Come on, let’s go make some of this happen.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You need to learn how to have some fun in your life, and there is no one better than me to teach you. Besides, none of this stuff needs to wait until after the season. You’re the master of concentration and focus. I doubt a haircut will be enough of a distraction to throw you off your game. So come on, let’s get you that haircut.”
“I have to go for a run, and then I’m working for my uncle this afternoon. And, by the way, I’m a girl. I don’t re-wear underwear before washing it.” She tossed the panties back at him.
He grinned and tucked them into his front pocket. “Until when?” he asked, ignoring her growl.
She twisted her mouth into a pout. “Three o’clock.”
“Fine, I’ll pick you up at three. I’m keeping the underwear. And the list.” Gabe tucked the paper in with the panties and left with a wink.
LAINEY PACED IN HER apartment that afternoon, waiting for Gabe to pick her up. She’d never shared her list with anyone. How did Gabe always manage to get under her skin? He was like a bad case of scabies. If scabies were sex gods with fantastic asses. The fact that he had her list made her feel more vulnerable than anything they’d done together. And, man, they had done some pretty crazy stuff in the last twenty-four hours. She fanned herself, overwhelmed by the memory of just how much she let herself be exposed in front of Gabe. She didn’t come out of that feeling bad or ashamed, though. In fact, she felt amazing. Bold. Powerful.
Maybe crossing a few things off her list wouldn’t be so terrible.
The telltale roar of the Porsche echoed through the second-story window of her apartment. She grabbed her keys and headed out to meet him. She slipped into the passenger side and was surprised when Gabe leaned over to give her a sweet kiss. Lainey’s first instinct was to pull back, but then she figured that after mind-blowing sex, a few casual kisses were to be expected.
As they drove off to what Lainey could only describe as certain doom considering the lack of information she had, Gabe handed her list back to her.
“I made some changes.”
She unfolded the paper. In red pen, he’d scribbled all over it. “You scratched out ‘learning to cross-stitch.’ ”
“This is supposed to be a list of things to bring excitement to your life, not a list of ways to prematurely turn yourself into an old lady.”
“But you wrote in ‘learn to bake pie.’ ”
He shrugged. “Strawberry rhubarb is my favorite.”
Lainey rolled her eyes. “Instead of joining a book club, I’m supposed to learn to snowboard?”
“I’ll take you up to Whistler next winter and teach you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. How were they suddenly talking about next winter? She swallowed her excitement. Gabe was a good-time guy, not a long-term guy. He’d said so himself when he suggested they give their relationship an expiration date. Five minutes from now, he’d probably forget he even made the suggestion to go snowboarding. Frankly, Lainey wasn’t too sure that would be a bad thing. This was strictly a three-week deal. She just had to remember not to get her hopes up, not to get attached to the idea of him and her. “I could break my leg. That would end my career.”
“Not if I’m teaching you. Plus, cuddling up in front of a fire is pretty awesome. Now keep reading,” he said with a grin.
She read on and promptly smacked him on the shoulder. “Give your man a blow job while he’s driving his Porsche?”
He sank back into his seat with an easy smile. “I’m ready if you are, babe.”
“This is a list for me, not you. Besides, who’s to say I haven’t already done that? I mean, not in a Porsche, but same idea . . .”
Gabe sputtered and straightened up. “You’re lying.”
She flashed him a mischievous grin. “Am I?”
Sometimes it felt good to beat Gabe at his own game. He pouted the rest of the ride while Lainey struggled to mask her laughter. They arrived shortly at a high-end salon in the center of town that was filled with blindingly white furniture and walls and a busy parade of staff dressed in uniforms of stark white.
As they entered, a tall, swarthy man in a white suit approached them with a welcoming smile.
“Gabe! So glad you’re here, my friend.” He gave Gabe a warm hug and a couple of pretentious air-kisses. “But it’s not time for your trim.”
Lainey looked at Gabe askance. “That’s a hundred-dollar haircut?” she asked, referring to the pricing list at the front counter.
The man who had just greeted them harrumphed. “That is a ten-dollar job that any hack at Supercuts with a dull razor could do,” he said. “Yet he insists on coming here.”
Gabe grinned. “What can I say, I’m
a simple guy. But I like the head massages that come with the haircuts here. They use this fancy oil that smells like peppermint. Plus, Niko is an old buddy of mine from high school. Can you help us out, Niko? Lainey here needs a haircut. With bangs.” He wrinkled his nose as he added that last part.
Niko looked her over and shuddered. “No bangs for you. It is bad enough that Gabe makes me debase myself with that haircut. I refuse to ruin another athlete’s beautiful bone structure due to stubbornness. I do, however, have some ideas. You want to cover your scar, right? I will give you the hairstyle of a bold, powerful woman, but simple enough to suit your lifestyle.” He ran his fingers through her hair, flipping it to the side and pulling a few strands in front of her face.
Bold and powerful. The exact words she’d used to describe herself after her interlude with Gabe last night. That was how she felt about herself on the field. Why shouldn’t she feel that way in the rest of her life?
Lainey let Niko guide her to a chair, where a team of workers washed her hair, massaged her scalp, and twittered over the best style. Once she was combed and ready, Niko grabbed a pair of scissors. That’s when Lainey started to panic again.
She gripped the edges of her seat. “Wait! I need to be able to put my hair into a ponytail. And, please, nothing too . . . stylish.” She was going to say “weird,” after looking at the bright pink mohawk on one of the other nearby stylists, but the last thing she wanted to do was offend the people who currently held her hair hostage.
Niko waved the scissors dismissively. “Ms. Lukas, I know who you are and what you do. And while we at La Bohème Salon believe that a fairy child dies every time someone wears a ponytail, we also believe it is important to keep our customers happy. And just as I would never suggest you use your left midfielder to deliver a deep cross in the box in your first game against the Boomerangs, rather than make the runs to the corner yourself, I ask that you do not tell me how to do my job in my salon. Now, please relax and allow my genius to wash over you.”
“Niko and I played together in high school. He could have gone pro, but hair was his calling,” Gabe explained from a few feet away. “Try to remember this is supposed to be fun.”
Lainey closed her eyes and resigned herself to the experience, trying not to flinch with every snip. After a round with the blow-dryer, Niko coaxed her to open her eyes.
She gasped. Instead of her limp brown hair hanging straight down, it was parted deep on the side and framed her face perfectly. And by god, she had volume. Volume! She didn’t get her bangs, but what she did get was a million times better. Along her forehead where her deep pink scar shone like a beacon, she had long, sideswept layers.
Niko’s face beamed with pride in the mirror. He tousled her hair and pulled it back to show how it would fit into a ponytail. It was shorter than she was expecting, but completely functional. She couldn’t be happier.
GABE HELD HIS BREATH while he awaited Lainey’s reaction. Her face betrayed only a hint of surprise, and he couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad.
“What do you think?” she asked him, a tentative expression on her face.
“Beautiful. You always look beautiful,” he insisted.
She cracked a smile. “I love it.”
She leaned forward to examine it in the mirror. Her eyes met his in the reflection, and a moment passed between them, each remembering exactly what happened the last time they shared a look in a mirror. Her cheeks flushed in the sweetest way.
Gabe thanked Niko for getting Lainey in without any notice, especially considering reservations at La Bohème were notoriously backlogged due to its popularity. Lainey smacked Gabe’s hands when he pulled out his credit card, not that it mattered, since Niko insisted it was on the house.
After her salon experience, Gabe helped Lainey cross off a few more banal items on the list, including getting her a library card. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him when she proceeded to check out Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers.
If Gabe were to have a list like hers, it’d probably include things like BASE jumping or renting his own tropical island for all his friends and family to celebrate with. Number one, of course, would be bringing the World Cup trophy to his soccer camps for the kids to actually have the chance to see it. But then again, there wasn’t a hope in hell of the United States winning during the height of his playing days, which were well on their way to being over.
With Lainey, it seemed like her list was more about denial than celebration. A way to keep her from enjoying the small things in life until she attained her impossible dreams. As far as he was concerned, stress like that never did anyone any good. Then again, Gabe never won the World Cup, so maybe she had a point.
At the very least, he could celebrate his victory of getting Lainey to loosen up by cooking her dinner. She’d readily agreed after he promised it’d be a healthy, home-cooked meal. He just wouldn’t tell her about the pound of butter he intended to use in the green beans. In Gabe’s estimation, there was no point in being a professional athlete burning eight thousand calories a day if you couldn’t indulge in a little butter.
“Whoa,” Lainey uttered with wide eyes as they pulled into his driveway. “Nice house.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling awkward as he pulled into the large driveway of his craftsman-style house overlooking the water in Kirkland. He loved his home. It wasn’t ostentatious or particularly large, but the view from the massive customized glass windows was unbeatable.
Bringing Lainey here, he couldn’t help but recognize that despite the fact they were both professional athletes, their achievements were recognized in starkly different ways. Gabe was five years past his prime in a sport that the majority of Americans knew little about, yet he had almost every luxury he could possibly want. Lainey wasn’t just the top female player in the country, she was top in the world, and she could barely afford the rent for her one-bedroom apartment. Yet none of that seemed to matter to her because she was living her passion.
Her love of the game was so pure, the glitz and glamour that came with professional athletics wasn’t even on her radar. Did she judge him for wanting those perks? Gabe never cared what anyone thought of him before. He was a happy guy who liked his life just fine, but he found he wanted to know Lainey’s opinion of him.
He gave her a brief tour of the living room with a fifty-two-inch television that was perfect for watching sports and the adjacent open kitchen. What caught her eye, though, was the deck off the kitchen overlooking the bay with a sunken hot tub.
“This view is amazing,” she said upon seeing the hot tub. A twinkle lit up in her eye, replacing her previously stoic expression. “Probably makes you never want to leave your house.”
“Nah, too many good restaurants in the city.”
“You could fit a dozen people in that hot tub,” she said casually. However, Gabe knew there was another hidden question somewhere in there.
After an awkward beat, he laughed. “Quit that line of thought, Lukas. I’ve never had an orgy in there. I told you already I’m not who the media says I am.”
“Can you blame me for wondering? Especially with how you are in the . . . bedroom?” She blushed, which always made Gabe smile.
“Fine, I guess it’s not all fabrications.”
“Good, because I’ve never hung out in an outdoor hot tub, and I plan on taking full advantage of this opportunity.”
That was enough anticipation to give Gabe a spring in his step. He fired up the grill and offered Lainey a seat on one of the stools at the granite-topped island in the center of his kitchen. He opened a bottle of red and handed her a glass. After a brief hesitation, where a million expressions crossed her beautiful face, Lainey took a polite sip. “Okay, this is really good,” she admitted before taking another tiny sip.
“Easy, sailor,” Gabe teased as he set to work on the marinade.
“Trust me, I learned my lesso
n at the gala. I want to savor this glass and make it last through the meal.”
“Well, look at you, Ms. Moderation.”
“Maybe you were right that I can handle a little balance in my life.” She punctuated her admission with a stern glare, warning him not to rub it in. “But if you say ‘I told you so,’ I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll junk punch me. Now get chopping on these vegetables.” He slid a cutting board and knife her way.
“Glad we’re on the same page. Now if only we could get you to be less superstitious, we’d all live happily ever after.”
“It’s my career on the line. Why wouldn’t I cover all my bases? You should understand that.” He supposed he could take offense at the way she belittled his beliefs, but life was too short and Lainey was too endearing, so he took a swig of wine instead. Damn. It was good. Maybe it was shameful, but Gabe was glad to be an overpaid, overglorified athlete when it afforded him the finer things in life.
“For someone whose reputation is predicated on being a laid-back, good-time guy, you’re shockingly neurotic.”
“Deep down, aren’t we all?”
“I didn’t get my head bashed in last year because of karma or destiny. It happened because Mari String slacked on her cardio training and couldn’t keep up with me. And the Surge didn’t lose its last play-off game against LA because you washed your socks,” she said, referencing the well-known superstition of Gabe’s.
“Time to fess up, Lukas. Do you have sexual fantasies about my smelly socks?”
A deep crimson flushed across her cheeks as her eyes narrowed to what could only be described as a death stare. She hacked at the pepper in front of her, sending the pieces flying in two different directions.
“I’m kidding,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her temple. Still, he pulled the cutting board and knife away from her just to be safe. “The truth is, we lost that game because the airport security guy wouldn’t let me take my ma’s frozen cabbage rolls on the plane.”