Page 30 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

“So thereisa guy,” Grant says.

Nolan’s still splashing around in the water like a little duck. “Hi, Lucas!”

My body is freezing, but my face is hot. “What are you doing here?”

“Nolan forgot his cleats and water bottle at our last session, and I know he’ll need them for practice tomorrow, so I thought I’d bring them by.”

“You could have called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer. Mrs. Wheaton overheard me giving you my voicemail at the grocery store, and she told me I could find you here.”

Should I be grateful or angry?

Nolan climbs from the pool and runs to Lucas, wrapping his arms around him. “Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

A muscle in Lucas’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t comment on the slimy water that’s now covering the entire front of his body. He just hugs Nolan back.

“How do you guys know each other?” Grant asks.

“I’m Nolan’s soccer mentor,” Lucas explains.

Grant smirks. “And mentoring his mom, too?”

“Nolan, why don’t you go inside and shower?” I say, heat rising in my face.

“I wasn’t finished swimming.”

“You are now.” I say firmly.

“Come on, Nolan, here’s a towel,” my mom says. “Let’s get you to the shower.”

Thankfully, Nolan was planning to spend the night here anyway. My mom takes him from time to time to give me a break. Having my mom’s support has been priceless to me.

Nolan goes into the house, and she turns to Lucas. “Please stay for dinner. We have more than enough.”

“Mom, I’m sure he has other things to do . . .”

“I’d love to stay. Thank you.”

“Well, y’all have fun. I’m jumping in the shower. I can’t stand another moment in this slime. And don’t attack Lucas with all your questions.”

Am I terrible for leaving him alone with my family? I’m not sure who’s worse: my mom, my dad, or my brothers.

By the time I’m done with my shower, the food is cold. Of course. But Lucas is deep in conversation with my brothers, and surprisingly, they seem to be getting along because Lucas is actually laughing at something Drew is saying.

He’s laughing. With my brothers.

And not just a polite chuckle. A real laugh. One of those low, warm, rumbling ones that comes from the chest and makes you look twice.

I freeze mid-step.

I’m used to him being broody and silent—not effortlessly charming. Not making my brothers like him. Not making me want to like him more than I already do.

This isn’t fair. I was doing fine. Fine-ish.

But now I’m in clean clothes, with dry hair, and Lucas is sitting there looking like the guy you dream about kissingandbringing to Sunday dinner.

I need to pull myself together. I can’t be developing feelings for a man who’s only passing through.

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