Page 40 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

The truth is, I’m not exactly in jeans and a ratty t-shirt myself. I’m wearing a white collared shirt, a few buttons undone—the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black slacks.

She walks past me, turning to lock the door, and a floral perfume hits me. “You know, friends would have met at the restaurant.”

“True friends know that carpooling is better for the environment,” I counter as we walk to the car. I step in front of her so she can’t open the door herself.

“Oh, you open doors for me on a non-date?”

I scoff. “I’m still a gentleman. What do you take me for?”

She laughs, and I can’t help but crack a smile. I should take her seriously when she says she wants to stay friends. I have my own reasons to keep space between us. But she’s so fun to tease, and she doesn’t keep her own boundaries anyway.

I take the short drive to Hadley’s as she updates me on Nolan and his soccer team, since I missed their last game due to a Forge meeting I had to attend. When we get to the restaurant, I open her door for her again. Surprisingly, she didn’t get out before I could.

As soon as we enter, a brunette woman’s face lights up. “Anabelle!” Her gaze slides over to me and then back. “Who’s this?” She raises her eyebrows at Anabelle like this is a big deal.

“Hey, Alexis. I didn’t know you were in town!” Anabelle turns to me. “This is my friend Lucas.”

Recognition spreads over her face. “Oh, Lucas Hensley. The soccer player, right?”

I have to ask myself, does she know me from Maple Creek gossip or from ESPN?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” I shake her hand.

“Oh! He has good manners, too,” she says to Anabelle.

Not typically. But I’m working on it.

“We’re just friends,” Anabelle supplies.

Right. Let’s clarify that.

“Okay.” Alexis grabs a few menus.

I clear my throat.

“Come on, guys. I can seat you tonight. I’ll show you my favorite spot. There’s a great view of the restaurant from here, and it’s cozy so you aren’t interrupted.”

This woman is clearly not your run-of-the-mill hostess. She’s dressed in Gucci with jewelry from Tiffany’s. “Are you from here, Alexis?” I ask.

“Yes, born and raised. My husband and I are back and forth from LA to Maple Creek.”

This rings a bell. “Oh, you’re married to Owen Hadley.”

“You got it,” she says, leading us up to a corner booth. “Don’t get too cozy, y’all. We wouldn’t want you complicating your ‘friendship.’”

Anabelle rolls her eyes.

“I saw that,” Alexis says, playfully swatting her on the arm before heading back to the hostess stand. She’d probably been checking in on the restaurant and then saw us.

Anabelle settles in the corner booth, which is too small to sit with too much space between us. There are two chairs facing us, but then neither of us would get the view of the restaurant. At least I tell myself that as I slide in next to her, breathing in her perfume, something that makes my insides do backflips.

A young girl in all black and a blonde ponytail comes up to us. “You two are the cutest couple! I know you probably want to order, but I had to tell you that.”

Best tactic in this situation? Pretend she asked the normal questions. “Water with lemon for me. And bring me this craft beer.” I point to one on the menu.

“Can I have your lemonade?” Anabelle turns to me. “It’s really good. They make it homemade here.”

“Have you been here before?” the server asks me.

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