Page 66 of The Thing About My Rival

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” My cheeks heat. That must have sounded ridiculous.

And where the hell did that flash of jealousy come from? That’s not okay. That needs to go away and never come back.

Amelia walks back around the desk, running her fingers over the stapler. “Hugo wanted to know what you have in your travel mug in the mornings.” She looks up at me. “Weird, right?”

If my face wasn’t red before, it absolutely must be now because every inch of my skin is caught by a wave of warmth. Oh my God, that’s absolutely fucking adorable. And totally explains the cup of black coffee with two creamers and two sugars next to it that was on my desk when I got in this morning.

I’d wondered whether it was him. Maybe even hoped it was.

How do I find the heart to tell him I hate coffee and always drink tea.

I fight back the smile threatening to spread across my face and do my best to look puzzled and serious. “Yeah, that is a bit odd. What did you tell him?”

“I said, how the hell would I know? And if he wanted to know he could just ask you himself. I mean, why does everyone think I’m suddenly the expert on fetching people drinks and knowing what they like? I’m not a goddamn waitress. Though these guys want me to be.” She waves the stapler around the room.

“What do you mean?”

“The Fab Four have asked me to be their server in the owners’ box during games. For privacy reasons. They don’t want just any old restaurant staff waiting on them. They want someone they can trust. Particularly Leo. So they asked me.Me.” She pulls a baffled face and gestures at herself, a person no better suited to waitressing than I am to flying rocket ships to Mars.

“The extra cash though,” I say. “It would come in handy, what with?—”

“Yeah, they did offer me a lot to do it. So I might.” She heads for the door. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to the training.”

I turn back to the window. The guys are now engaged in a five-a-side game. Just as I focus on what’s going on, Ramon slide-tackles Bakari, cleats up, and takes him down.

“Fuck no. Oh, fuck. No!”

“What’s up?” Amelia rushes to my side—my voice must have sounded as panicky as I feel.

“Terrible tackle. Appalling.” I jab my finger toward the pitch where Ramon and Bakari are getting up and dusting themselves off.

“They look okay,” she says.

“Luckily.” And it is only luck. “Ramon could have broken Bakari’s ankle. You’d get sent off in a game for that. You certainly don’t do it to your own teammates in training and risk their careers and the success of the club.”

“Sounds like he’s going to get a piece of your mind.”

“He should be getting a piece of Hugo’s right now.” The cute cozy feeling I just had about Hugo drains right out of my toes as he stands on the sideline and blows the whistle for play to continue.

“What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he doing anything?” Now I’m clammy all over. “He yells at them all the time for not pushing hard enough, not trying hard enough, not winning enough, and this is what it results in—dangerous tackles. Look at him. He doesn’t care that one of them could have just jeopardized the other’s future. He’s completely fucking silent.”

Amelia stares at me while I stare at the players on the field. “Maybe it’s Hugo who’s going to get a piece of your mind.”

The sound of chatting players and a bouncing soccer ball move along the hallway, past our closed office door and into the locker room.

The blind is drawn, of course, but I can hear them laughing about a video Martinez posted yesterday of himself hiding in Schumann’s locker and scaring the crap out of him when he opened it.

It was funny, and Schumann, our older, solid captain, took it with good humor. In fact, the whole team spirit is coming along well.

At least I thought it was until Ramon’s selfish behavior earlier.

I decided to give Hugo a chance to deal with him—give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he would take him aside after training and talk to him quietly. So I’ve been sitting here at my desk trying to concentrate on my youth academy business plan. If the Fab Four see I have solid ideas for the future it might swing them my way.

“Hey!” Hugo bursts through the door, a ball tucked under his arm.

I might be furious with him, but that doesn’t stop me noticing his delicious lips spread into a wide happy-go-lucky smile. Nor does it stop the instant tingle in my lady bits. I squeeze my thighs together in an effort to shut it down.

He drums his fingers on the ball. “Did you like the coff?—”

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