1. Ethan
Chapter One
Ethan
A fist glanced off the side of my chin, and I reflexively swung back. I shan’t say I meant to clock the guy right on the nose, but then I’d walked right into this fight. Literally. Blood streaked down the guy’s chin while he kept swinging, swearing a mile a minute while he was at it. I managed to dodge another fist and slip out of the midst of the scuffle. It was in the wee hours of the morning, and I’d meant to just skip out of the bar where I’d gone with a few mates from my football team. I hadn’t been paying much attention and, truth be told, I was a tad sloshed from a few too many beers. I wasn’t prone to drink much as a rule, so when I did, I tended to get fuzzy fast. Hence, I’d been making my way outside and didn’t even notice the guys in the middle of a heated argument.
A quick scan around, and I deduced I’d slipped my way clear. Last thing I wanted was Coach to find out I’d stumbled into a fight, so I headed outside into the rainy Seattle darkness. I tugged the hood from my jacket up and turned to walk to my flat when I heard my name. “Ethan Walsh?”
I turned back to see a police officer standing beside one of the bartenders. b****y hell. I nodded politely. “Yes, sir.”
I might have just accidentally punched someone, but I had manners. Fat lot of good they did me. Before I knew it, I’d been bundled into the officer’s car and watched while another officer stuffed the two guys whose fight it had actually been into another car. The officer who seemed to be in charge of me was friendly enough.
“Mr. Walsh, as far as I understand, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Problem is, the guy you hit is pretty upset about the whole thing and drunk to boot, so he’s not listening to reason. We’ll get to the station and sort this out. There were plenty of witnesses who report you walked right through and took one on the jaw first.”
The officer jabbered on a bit, while I put my face in my hands and sighed. Great, f*****g great. I don’t know how long it was until we arrived at the station, but I immediately declared I needed to talk to someone. Friendly though the officers were, the arse whose fist bounced off my face was none too happy about his b****y nose. I made quick call to Tristan, my flat mate who’d had enough sense not to be out at the bar tonight. He chuckled and assured me he’d call Coach and get someone from the team sent my way.
I was a player for the Seattle Stars, a US football team spending big bucks to sign footballers from all over the world. Correction: soccer team. There were many bits I’d come to love about America, but their silly idea to call another sport—an inferior one I don’t mind saying—football was a constant irritation. The rest of the whole wide world of sports called football football, but in the US it was soccer, or no one knew what you meant. Anyway, hard to believe it but I was an elite player and had lucked into this team after a solid pro start back in Britain. Downside to all this meant it wouldn’t be too great for me to make a ruckus for my team. Our Coach—whom I respected, I truly did—had little tolerance for players getting into silly messes.
I leaned my chin in my hand and waited. They’d deposited me in a room that didn’t have much of anything in it, other than a table and a phone. I don’t know how long I waited, but out of the dead silence in the room came a sharp knock. Before I managed to fully stand, the door swung open. I almost knocked my chair over when I saw Zoe Lawson in the doorway
Zoe stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and walked briskly to the table, sitting down and eyeing me. “Hello Ethan,” she said.
I sat down and bit back the sigh that wanted to escape. Zoe Lawson was a criminal defense attorney I’d met a bit ago when she helped Alex Gordon with his assault charges after he hauled off and punched the asshole who’d r***d his girlfriend a few years prior. Alex was one of my mates from Britain and the goalkeeper for the Stars. Alex, being Alex, had assault charges for a hella good reason. Me, well, I didn’t even know if I was charged with anything yet, but all I’d done was basically walk into someone’s fist and react.
Now, here was Zoe. Zoe was, well, she was flat beautiful. I don’t know if she was the most beautiful woman ever, but she was to me. She was also slightly terrifying. She stood close to six feet tall with legs that went on forever. Although she must’ve rolled out of bed to come meet with me, she looked tidy and professional in a navy jacket over a fitted skirt that fell to her knees. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a sleek knot, not a single tendril escaping. Her gorgeous hair was paired with hazel eyes and fair skin. The only thing that softened her was her face—she had a wide, full mouth, eyes that tilted at the corners and rosy cheeks.
Oh, and the last time I saw her, I’d kissed her. I’d encountered her by chance when I was leaving a restaurant. I’d had a few beers and didn’t give a damn about her standoffish attitude at that moment. I’d taken full advantage of how surprised she looked when she saw me and just kissed her right there in the hallway of the restaurant. For a flash, her mouth had softened and she’d arched into me. Sanity must’ve hit her, but not before our tongues did a quick dance. Definitely not before I’d felt every inch of her flush against me. That brief taste had ended with her shoving me away and glaring at me before she stalked off. I hadn’t seen her since.
I looked across the table and felt caught between impulses. On the one hand, I wanted to walk around the table between us and untie her hair. I’d fantasized a few times about what that gorgeous hair might look like loose, but all I could do was imagine. The unflattering fluorescent lights couldn’t even dim its brightness, streaks of gold winked out amidst the rich auburn.
On the other hand, I felt a bit foolish. The hands of the simple black and white clock on the wall above the door told me it was approaching one-thirty in the morning now. I didn’t have a good explanation for why I’d ended up in this little mess, but here I was, wondering how to explain myself to Zoe.
Bloody hell. Zoe Lawson commanded any room she stepped into. She exuded brilliance and confidence and wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated. It was no wonder I wanted her like mad.
I didn’t realize I was just sitting there like a dolt until Zoe drummed her fingers on the desk.
“Can you handle a simple hello?” she asked, a tad sharply.
Oh, that did it. I straightened and eyed her.
“Hello Zoe. What brings you here this evening?” I asked, leaning heavy on the haughty in my tone.
Zoe arched a brow and leaned back in her chair. “It’s morning Ethan, and you apparently managed to get yourself in a little fix. Coach Hoffman called and asked me to come meet with you.” She paused and glanced pointedly at her watch. “At 1:30am.” Her gorgeous hazel eyes—layers of green and nutmeg swirled together with flecks of gold—lifted to mine again. Her gaze ensnared me, and she had to clear her throat to snap me back to attention.
“Aye, I suppose it’s a bit late, or early, depending on how you look at it,” I finally managed.
She inclined her head slightly and pulled a small notebook out of her purse. “Tell me what happened.”
I quickly summarized and couldn’t help but grin when her lips twitched. I wasn’t grinning because any of it was funny. No, rather I loved getting under her skin like I had with that kiss. It wasn’t easy though. I had to credit her there. But the corner of her mouth curled up, just the slightest bit, and I loved it. Blood shot straight to my groin.
Pay attention, mate. Not the time to get all randy.
“Ethan, tell it to me straight. Did you really walk right into the middle of a fight? Because I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit ridiculous.”
I eyed her, thinking I didn’t really want to keep talking about this. I knew it sounded b****y ridiculous, but it was the truth.