Page 23 of Playing for Possession
“What about your brother? Jack? Are you close?”
I didn’t know Jack Earnshaw, but he was on the partying circuit with the men’s team. Ollie had started coming home at all hours of the morning once he’d become friends with those guys. They weren’t good for him.
“We are, but there’s an age gap. We couldn’t really play or do things together when we were little. I’m the older brother. I had to keep an eye out for him, you know?”
“I understand. I’m the youngest, but I feel like the oldest. I still feel protective over Ollie. You must feel the same way about Jack?”
“I do.”
Another heavy silence percolated around us.
“You’re a good listener, you know that?” His voice was surprisingly soft.
I made a strangepfftsound to dismiss the praise.
“No. I mean it. No one listens. Everyone is just waiting for their turn to speak.”
“I enjoy listening.”
It was easier in my family. I could never get a word in anyway. There were only so many times you could fade yourself out when speaking because you realized no one was paying attention. I’d stopped trying. Easier to be quiet.
“Did you learn to speak Spanish when you played with Real Madrid?”
“The basics.” He cleared his throat and spoke with perfect fluency. “Una pinta de cerveza, por favor.”
“What does that mean?”
“A pint of beer, please.”
“I see you’ve learned the essentials.”
“Of course. Here’s one for when we’re forced to drink a full can of Fizzz on camera.Por favor, llévame al centro médico más cercano.” He paused dramatically. “Please take me to the nearest medical facility.”
Was he smiling? Surely not. He even cracked jokes with a sullen expression. I chuckled.
“Then there is the most important phrase of all.Por favor, llama a mi agente. Ella se ocupa de ese tipo de cosas.”
“Which means?”
“Please call my agent. She deals with this kind of thing.”
His tone was almost playful. Who would have thought stone-cold Kieran Earnshaw was so dorky?
“Your agent must be a saint.”
“She is. Without a doubt.” Laughter edged his voice again. “You like that one? What about this one? ¿Sabes lo mejor de los futbolistas? Podemos estar noventa minutos sin parar.”
“Which means?”
He lowered his voice to a sexy murmur. “You know the best thing about footballers? We can go for ninety minutes without stopping.”
The words lingered in the darkness and charged it with electricity. Heat spread through me. He’d probably picked up so many women with that awful, cheesy line. It didn’t matter that it was ridiculous. Who could resist?
I forced a laugh. I’d laughed at the others. I’d look uptight if I didn’t laugh at this one too. “I suppose you have a lot of lines like that in your repertoire.”
“It’s a joke a friend told me a long time ago. I don’t use pick-up lines.”
He didn’t say the quiet part out loud. Kieran Earnshaw didn’t need lines. None of Calverdale United did. I’d seen the women waiting outside the VIP area whenever the team went out. He only had to click his fingers and he’d have his pick. The pillow ruffled; he must have been lowering his head back down.
