Page 12 of Scoring Eden

“So long as no one fucks another player’s sister this year, we’ll be fine.” Roman stares Leo dead in the eyes as he says it, the tiny curve of his lips the only indication that he’s messing with him. Shit stirrer that he is.

Leo deadpans. “What about your mom?”

“Yeah, Ro. What about your mom?” I’m mostly joking, but truth be told, Roman’s mom is a total knockout.

He snatches a napkin off the bar and whips me with it. “Jackass.”

I hold my hands up. “Just saying what we’re all thinking, man.”

“Not true.” Theo looks up, his eyes too sweet and doe-eyed to belong to one of the best defenders the MLS has ever seen. “Mrs. Murphy is a lovely woman, and I respect her too much to think about her that way.” He pauses. “She is hot, though.”

Roman frowns and takes a deep gulp of his beer. “Brilliant.”

I nudge him on the shoulder, “Relax, man. We all know she’s out of our leagues anyway.”

He doesn’t look reassured. If anything, he looks angrier. His jaw is tense, his face a subtle shade of scarlet that he’d argue is just from the glow of the neon-pink lighting, and there’s a vein in his forehead that twitches in time with his heartbeat.

“Everyone’s out of your league,” he grumbles. “Especially with your man bun.”

I run my hand over my long hair and wink at him. “You’re just jealous I actually have hair.”

He curses under his breath, draining the rest of his beer. Roman Murphy is the grumpiest of all of us and the most fun to fuck with. He’s also had a buzz cut for the several years I’ve known him, and while he says it’s because it helps him run faster on the field, I suspect his hairline is receding, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it.

Sucks to be him.

I drain my beer and offer him another in consolation for his lost hairline then head to the bar. Thankfully, the spot we’ve picked is popular with other athletes, so no one bats an eye as I push through the crowd. But as I join the back of the line, there’s a glint of dark hair in the corner of my vision. A shimmer of green. A flash of white teeth as they bite down on lips so pretty I’ve been thinking about them all day.

Holy shit.

It’s Eden.

Damn, she looks like a different woman without her work scrubs.

For starters, there’s a distinct lack of ink. And she’s traded her uniform for a little white dress that looks both angelic and devilish at once. Her makeup has her cheeks a little rosier, her eyes more sparkly, which, unfortunately for me and my sensibilities, makes them even more mesmerizing than they were this afternoon.

She doesn’t see me as I approach, too lost in her phone with her brow furrowed as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Well, she’s in luck, because I’m here now to brighten up her night like the firework of charisma I am.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

The shock of my voice has her lifting those jade eyes to mine. Her lips part in shock, a gasp whispering between them, before she masks her face with indifference. She glances over her shoulder to confirm it’s her I’m talking to, her umber ponytail whipping across her shoulders, then narrows her eyes on me. “Can I help you?”

Uncertainty flickers through me for just a moment before I remember that I’m Alex fucking Wolfe, hot-shot MLS player and charming to a fault. She knows exactly who I am, the little brat.

“Pretending not to remember me?” I rub my heart, feigning offense. “That’s cold.”

She runs her gaze over my t-shirt, black and cutting across my biceps. I puff my chest out a little for her benefit. “Maybe you should have worn a jacket.”

“If I’d have known I’d be trading barbs with you tonight, maybe I would have come better prepared.”

She smirks. “Like with a coat?”

“Like with a nunchuck.”

Her lips twitch with the promise of a smile, but she doesn’t let me have it. Instead, she distracts them with the straw of her drink, pink and sugared at the rim, as she takes a sip. Then another three.

“Unicorn jizz?” I tip my head toward her glass. “Seems to be a pretty popular delicacy tonight. I hadn’t realized it was so easy to source.”

“You haven’t tried it?”