Page 98 of Play On

“To a point, yes. But since this is a holiday, I’m going to enjoy myself a bit. Like eating pick and mix in bed.”

I laugh. “I’m already a bad influence on you.”

“No. You’re the best influence on me.”

Ooh!

We finish preparing breakfast and take a seat inside at the round table, but we’re still blessed with amazing views of the sea. The sunlight ripples on the water, and gulls soar through the sky. It’s a beautiful sight to behold.

“What would you like to do today?” Noah asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Wait, how do you take your coffee? I know you ordered a flat white at The Biscuit Cutter, but how do you drink it at home?”

He smiles. “Lots of milk.”

“Okay, now I know how to make you a cup of coffee,” I say, buttering my toast.

Noah practically beams at that, and it makes me so happy, it’s downright stupid.

“All right, now that you know that, besides going for a walk, what do you want to do today?” he repeats.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the guest!”

“But what do you recommend? I don’t know anything about this area.”

I think on this for a moment. “Ooh! Let’s go to the ruins of Corfe Castle. It was built by William the Conqueror, and it’s beautiful up there. We can take Mila with us. It’s really cool to walk through and the views are spectacular.”

“That sounds perfect,” Noah says, taking a bite of his porridge.

“Then we can come back and have lunch.” I smile at him. “Sorry, I’m one of those women who can get very cranky if I’m even a bit peckish.”

“I won’t stand for that.”

I grin at him. “We can make lunch and maybe do something crazy. I know one thing I’d like to do before you head back on Sunday, however.”

“Anything.”

“Can you teach me some basics about football?”

Noah studies me. “Really?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes. Like teach me some of your moves. I want to know what you’re doing when I watch you on the pitch for friendlies.”

Noah almost appears taken aback by my request, and that hurts my heart for him. I know it’s because the only other person who truly cared about his football career was his father. There’s been nobody in that place since his tragic death.

Until now, I think with determination.

“Violet,” he says slowly, “you don’t have to watch friendlies or my games if you aren’t into football.”

“You’re wrong about that. You’re a football player. It’s the thing that brings you joy. Of course I’m going to watch you play, as much as possible.”

His eyes grow soft, and I know I’ve touched him.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice quiet. “I know you know what that means to me.”

“I do. So we can find a park later, and if you have a football in the boot, we’ll go kick it around.”

A beautiful smile lights up his face at this prospect, and it makes my heart flutter.

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