Page 28 of Sweeper
Booker lets out a hearty laugh. “Zander, if this is how you pick up women, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re still a virgin.”
I grimace as I recall my first meeting with Daphney. “Unfortunately, it’s not far off in these parts. London seems to have broken my game in more places than one. But, um…maybe I could come to your place? Whereabouts do you live? I could take a cab there sometime.”And we could share a meal, and I could steal your fork or poke around your bathroom like a stalker.
Booker’s brows furrow. “Mine is no good. I have five-year-old twin boys, and well…let’s just say you’re not ready for Teddy and Oliver.”
“Okay…how about my place?” I offer because going out won’t help me get any DNA left behind. “I’m not far from here.”
“Your place would be brilliant. How about tonight?” Booker asks, and I’m a bit shocked at the urgency but don’t have any reason to say no.
“Tonight sounds wicked.”
“Is nine too late?” Booker eyes me thoughtfully. “I have to help Poppy put the boys down, or she’ll never forgive me.”
“Nine works.”
“Great, I’ll get your mobile number after training. Looking forward to it, Zander.” He reaches out to fist bump me, and I do the same.
“Me, too.”I hope.
Zander
“Oi! You can’t pass when you have a clean breakaway like that!” Booker shouts, his hands gripping the game controller so hard, his knuckles are white. “Is this your first time playing FIFA?”
“No,” I snap and shift uncomfortably on my sofa as I fight back the swamp-ass situation happening in my jeans. I’ve been a nervous wreck since Booker arrived, trying to figure out a way to get his DNA before he leaves. “I’ve played tons of times, but this new version is throwing me.”
“Clearly.” Booker laughs, sitting back and wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead. “Christ, it’s a workout kicking your arse.”
“I’d say.” I glance at the water bottle that’s been sitting in front of him all night. I made a conscious effort to serve him water in a plastic bottle so I could send it in later. I just hope it’s enough for the DNA sample.
“You don’t need to get home to your kids or anything, do you?” I ask, glancing at the clock to see it’s after midnight.
“Eh, it’s alright.” Booker sits back on my sofa and looks around my place. “They’re in bed, and I’m in heaven. I’d forgotten what it’s like to have the telly on as loud as you want after dark. I’m reliving my youth here, so you’ll have to kick me out, mate.” I catch him wincing out of the corner of my eye before he continues, “My wife, on the other hand, might throttle me when I try to slink into bed later. But I’ll gladly take it after a night like this.”
I laugh. “You’re not even that old to be reliving your youth.”
He sighs heavily and runs a hand over his dark brown hair that’s the same color as mine. “I’m just over thirty, but the days before I was chasing after five-year-old boys and telling them to stop weeing in Mummy’s plants feel like a lifetime ago.”
“Parenthood sounds fun,” I deadpan.
“Actually, it is,” he replies with a fond smile. “And luckily, my boys are carbon copies of their uncles, so I know how to handle them.”
“Are you referring to Tanner and Camden? They’re twins, right?”
He nods. “Yes. And they were hellers growing up. Always picking on me. Bloody awful. Honestly, once I realized we were having twins, I told Poppy I don’t want any more because I know all too well what it’s like to be ganged up on by twin brothers who share a bond you can’t even begin to comprehend.”
“Didn’t your parents try to put a stop to them ganging up on you?” I ask, treading into foreign territory because I don’t know shit about having siblings.
“Not really.” Booker’s eyes bend with sympathy. “My mum died when I was one, so I never really knew her. And my dad…well…let’s just say it took him years after her death to become even remotely normal. The man he is today out on that pitch managing the club is not the man I grew up with.”
“How do you mean?” I question, feeling my body tense as I realize I’m far more interested in this answer than I should be.
A thoughtful expression crosses Booker’s face. “The memories I have of my father are mostly of him being very cross and very controlling. Stoic and cold. He really only ever cared about one thing.”
“His kids?” I offer as images of my own dad flash across my mind.
“God, no.” Booker barks out a dry laugh. “He only cared about football.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. “I probably should have guessed.”
