Page 122 of The Secret We Keep
Idon’tneedanyoneto point out the legs walking down the steps of the bleachers towards our spot on the field. However, my prick of a mate hasn’t shut up since before kick-off.
“If you’re seriously not going to ask that girl out, I think I will.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs. “Relax. I’m only yanking your bollocks.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder.
Still, my teeth grind together, jaw flexing causing pain to pang in my gums. “Well cut it out.”
My eyes had trained on Morgan just before the game started like a fly on shit. Alright, disgusting analogy, but it fits. I couldn’t get enough of her. Can’tget enough of her. I caught a movement in the corner of my eye and that was me done in for forty-five minutes. I was sloppy on the ball and let too many players get past me. Last time I played was a couple of years ago, but I don’t think it matters. I wasn’t going to play well tonight regardless, and it has everything to do with the girl taking the final step in my direction.
Reaching down behind the railing separating spectators from the pitch, I pick up Evie again.
“Uncle Paddy,” she wails, voice shrieking. “You scored the winning goal.” The homemade banner in her hands wraps around my neck.
“I know, I saw.”
Evie playfully rolls her eyes at me. “I would have liked a few more goals, though.”
“A few more?” I ask surprised, chancing a glance at Morgan.
Evie nods joyfully. “Grandma Siobhan was so excited, she almost peed her pants. It was so funny. Another goal or two and she definitely would have done.”
I scrunch up my nose, laughing. “Old ladies do that from time to time.”
She giggles, covering her mouth, and I glance over her shoulder again, watching as Morgan hugs my mum and dad one after the other. Her legs are like pins, long and slim. I want to lick them. Want to run my tongue over the length of them, starting from her toes all the way to her thighs…
“Uh, Uncle Paddy?”
Fuck. I can’t be thinking those thoughts.
I lift my gaze to the small, chocolate button eyes looking down at me.
“You can put me down now.”
I wish I could, kid. But I fear if I’m not holding onto something or someone, I’m going to have to fight the urge to pick Morgan up and throw her over my shoulder like a caveman.
“I’ll carry you. You must be tired,” I insist.
Looking at the watch on her wrist, her eyes pop open a little wider. “It’s only just past eight, I’m not tired. Plus, Grandpa Frank said me and him could watchTitanictogether when we get home.”
“Titanic?”
She nods enthusiastically.
I laugh. “You know it’s a love story, right?”
She huffs. “Nu-uh.”
“It is.”
“No. Grandma Siobhan said people die on a boat.”
I look at her again. “She only said that to make you want to watch it. Trust me, it’s a chick flick. And it’s a ship. Not a boat.”
“Oh that cheeky devil,” she grumbles, sounding just like my mum. “She tried to pull a fast one on me.” Her eyes suddenly turn mischievous. “I’ll show her.”
I dread to think what that means.
