Page 50 of The Coach

"Hey, I know you, don't I?" calls Stefan, breaking me from my thoughts. He looks Brad over, assessing him, clicking his fingers together. "Yeah, that's it, you played for Chelsea. You're like a soccer legend. Brad Swift. What are you doing here in America?"

Brad glances at me, and I can tell he's wondering how much he should say. We've been all over each other the entire boat ride, we don't need this guy knowing who we are.

"Just here for pleasure. I don't play anymore," he answers with a half-truth.

Stefan nods. Then he looks at me. "Nope, I know why I recognized you. I read that article about you not long ago. You're coaching our women's team, the Angels."

I break into a hot sweat, thinking he's about to recognize me as well. I tug my hat down a little farther and thank God I decided to wear my big dark sunglasses today. "Awesome work too, they're winning more than ever since you jumped on board," Stefan continues.

"Yeah, thanks, mate. They're a good team."

We pull up at the docks, and I can't get myself off the boat fast enough. The last thing I need is this guy recognizing me as well and talking to the tabloids about the unlikely couple he had on his boat, all in the name of five minutes of fame.

I wait for Brad to finish up his chat and walk up to me. I'm feeling slightly irritated. So typical, he's the one who gets noticed. Not that I care, because I don't want Stefan to know who I am right now anyway. But Brad hasn't even played for two years and I'm literally the best striker for this dude's state's team. Just goes to show we have come a long way in women's sports but we're still not considered as good as the men, no matter how incredibly we play.

I roll my eyes at Brad, and without me even saying a word he knows exactly what I'm getting at. "I would have recognized your pretty face. We're lucky this guy is an idiot." He wraps his arms around me as we make our way back.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Come on, let's get you home."

I offer him a small smile, but I don't really want to go home, I'm not ready yet. This weekend away has been just what I needed, and I feel like I've gotten to know Brad better than all the last month combined. He has been so open and honest with me. And when we go back, we have to deal with the realities of our situation all over again.

Maybe I should just ditch my career and run away with him. Seriously, has this dude got me brainwashed? Cause I have no idea where the old Andy has gone. I'm completely screwed when it comes to him. So much for having a bit of fun and not getting too involved because I don't do that. Apparently, all it took was a sexy soccer superstar to make me cave.

Chapter Sixteen

Andy

This weekend was bliss,but it's now Monday morning and it's time to get back to reality. I shower and dress in my training uniform before Brad is even out of bed. Then help myself to some granola and fruit for breakfast and sit at his kitchen counter, eating and scrolling through my phone.

I hear the shower. He must be up. That's good, I was about to go and wake him so he wasn't late for practice. I stayed here last night because I couldn't bring myself to go home. I needed one more night in my happy Brad bubble before I had to deal with it all.

Five minutes later, I'm washing my plate in the sink when I hear a knock at the door. In this situation I would normally answer it, but I can't do that. It could be anyone and I'm not supposed to be here. I race into Brad's room. He's just in a towel, all glistening and gorgeous, freshly showered.

"There's someone at your door," I tell him.

His forehead creases and he throws on some pants and a shirt. "At this time of the morning?"

I shrug.

He makes his way for whomever is at the door. I stand in the hallway and wait to see who it could be.

"Brad, darling, I thought you were never going to answer." I stiffen as I hear a woman's voice purr. Who is she?

"Madeline, why are you here?" he snaps. By his tone, I'm going to assume this is the wife—or ex, rather—and he is less than impressed to see her. For a second, I was worried he might have been seeing someone else, but I push that thought away and listen.

"I told you I was coming to town this week and I wanted to see you. I dropped in yesterday, but you weren't here. I wanted to catch you before you left for work today, so here I am." Her voice is getting closer, and I realize she must have let herself into the house.

Fuck, what should I do? I don't really want her to know I'm here, but at the same time, I want her to know Brad has moved on from her cheating ass and is happy with me. Her heels click on the floor, and I don't have time to decide because she's already standing in front of me.

I blink back at her a bit like a deer in the headlights. She looks me up and down, assessing me, a snobby pout on her lips. She's stunning, of course she is, even better than in her pictures. She's tall and slim, with long dark hair that sits perfectly straight down her back. Her nails are manicured, and her make-up is perfect, fake lashes and all. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in real life. Fuck, and this is his ex. What on earth must he see in me?

"And you are?" She flicks her long hair over her shoulder, looking back over to Brad.

"None of your business," I sass at her. She wants to give me attitude, I'll give it straight back and better. I already hate her for what she did to him.

Brad comes to stand by my side, wrapping an arm around me in a protective gesture—or at least that's what I think he's doing until he opens his mouth. "This is Andrea, my girlfriend." No, that was more of a fuck-you to his ex.

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