Page 3 of Goal Line Love

I sit up straight, claiming the moment and accepting my fate. Picking up the beer, I toast him and drink. I stuff the note in my pocket and grab my cell.

Bergan: Zest? That’s a little out of my budget.

Totally true. That place is $250 minimum for a meal. I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent if I eat there.

But it wouldn’t be out of the question if I could become the new announcer.

Harrison: It’s on me.

Bergan: It’s not a date.

Harrison: Fine, you can pay me back. Four easy installments of $29.99.

Bubble of laughter pops out of me without meaning to, and I blush knowing he probably noticed. He’s too cute for his own good, and maybe mine too.

“Ugh.” This is a dangerous slope, but I’m way too intrigued.

And a girl’s gotta eat…

Bergan: 7:30 pm and we share a meal.

Harrison: Do I need to watch my figure? Because you sure as shit don’t.

I don’t dare lift my head because I can’t hold back my smile. I like that he appreciates my curves because I sure do. My curves are one of my best assets.

Bergan: See you at 7:30, Harrison.

I lift the beer and chug it down. The guys cheer and all the eyes in the pub are on me.

I put on a big smile and sashay over to Harrison and lean down and whisper in his ear. “Thanks for the beer.” Then continue on my way, putting a little more sway into my steps, knowing he’s watching my assets as I walk out.

I’m not hating it because it got me an inside story and I’m ready to make things happen.

3

BERGAN

The restaurant is way, way above my pay scale. It’s the swankiest place I’ve ever been with its white tablecloths, mood lit candles, and the wait staff with a towel on their arms. The dress code is a must, and as a well-dressed person I still feel underdressed in this place.

This is far from my scene. I’m more of the chicken wings and a beer kind of gal.

I’m known for being a confident woman, at least in my outward appearance, but this place is pushing my buttons. It doesn’t help I’m sitting alone with a martini, two olives, and the man who asked me here is nowhere to be found.

Needing a distraction, I scroll through social media and hiss as my ex appears on the arm of some model in New York City. I scroll past wanting to forget him, because I should’ve known better. Rocket never loved Colorado. Not like I do. It’s my home and I’ll never leave.

Now annoyed and hungry, I stand to leave when Harrison finally decides to grace me with his presence.

He’s out of breath as he says, “I had to take a call. Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

I scoff.

How many times have I heard that before?

I grab my drink to down it. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

This meeting is for a story, but I won’t let anybody waste my time ever again. Rocket would dismiss my time as disposable. And I let it go when I shouldn’t have. Of course, he was fucking the league’s physical therapist, but still… I didn’t value myself enough to enforce others to value me either. It’s why I’ve stayed single for two years now. It’s not worth the heartache.

Harrison gently rests his hand on my arm, and my skin lights up as tingles progress along my body. “Please stay, or we can go do something else if you prefer.”

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