Page 28 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Twenty-Two

EVA

W hen I met Morgan at the Neon Cactus last week, I knew I liked her, but I had no idea just how much I would appreciate and value her.

She flew out to Los Angeles, wrangled together a believable love story for Luke and me, then insisted that Christopher come over and sign an NDA.

She coached him on the best way to corroborate the narrative that Luke and I have been secretly dating, and she worked out a believable timeline for the pregnancy. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Taking her out to dinner to thank her was the least I could do. Plus, after forty-eight hours of close proximity to Luke, I needed some space.

Did I feel bad arranging a girls’ dinner and leaving him to fend for himself?

A little bit. But I know myself, and if I didn’t get some distance from the way he keeps touching me, dropping kisses on the top of my head when he doesn’t need to, and looking at me like he’s lost the friendship filter, I might start to believe he feels something that he doesn’t.

At least once we’re back in Boston and Christopher gets settled there, I’ll start training again. That will give me some physical outlet for this sexual energy that’s always coursing through my veins.

I’m hoping my freaking hormones will settle once the baby is born.

Then, Luke and I will be so focused on this child that it’ll be easier to remember that our agreement is based on friendship and a desire to help each other out, but not any other kind of desire.

Because right now, holy shit, is my body feeling the wrong kind of desire way too often!

Across the table, Morgan laughs, and when I glance up, she’s looking at me with the most amused expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I swear to god...pregnancy brain has me lost in my own thoughts half the time.” And I’m feeling a bit hot and bothered, thinking about how much I want Luke. I pick up my glass, hoping a sip of the ice-cold water will cool me off.

“Hey, if I was in a fake marriage to a guy who was clearly in love with me, I’d be all up in my head too,” Morgan says, right as I take a sip. A small ice cube slips down the back of my throat, and I cough, spewing water all over myself.

I lift the cloth napkin from my lap, thankful that it caught most of the water, and hold it to my face as I cough into it violently. I’m a freaking delightful dinner companion tonight.

“What the hell?” I squeak out when I can finally manage to breathe again. “He’s not in love with me. ”

She lifts one of her light eyebrows. “Is that the story you’re telling yourself?”

“What part of our agreement and our reasons for entering into it weren’t clear?”

Oh shit, can she tell that I have feelings for him, and she’s just confused about where that energy is coming from?

“Oh, I think your reasons are very clear, and both valid. But you two didn’t set an end date for this. This isn’t a short-term thing to help each other out and then part ways as friends?—”

“How could we do that without crushing our families?”

“Exactly.” She shrugs, then glances down to spear a few pieces of pasta. “So you two are in this for the long-term. And no one—especially no man —does that if there aren’t romantic feelings involved.”

“Really?” I ask, my tone laced with sarcasm. “So you’re telling me there are actual rules about how fake marriages work?”

She looks at me with some combination of sympathy and amusement.

“You’d be surprised how often this actually happens.

A lot of the time, it’s just long-term dating arrangements and stuff between celebrities, but sure, fake relationships, fake engagements, and even fake marriages happen when it’s mutually beneficial for both parties. ”

I think about Luke’s brother, Tucker, and his engagement that fell apart so spectacularly last year. I’ve long suspected that the relationship had been “arranged,” but the Hartmanns are tight-lipped about things like that, even with people like me, who they consider “practically family.”

“Trust me,” I tell her. “Luke does not have feelings for me. What you’re seeing is just how he is with everyone. He’s super affectionate and friendly...like a goddamn golden retriever.”

She looks at me like she can’t quite understand how Luke and I could possibly be best friends.

I’m the absolute opposite of a golden retriever.

I’m cautious about trusting people and take a long time to warm up to new friends, which explains my incredibly small group of friends.

In social situations, I’m pretty quiet and reserved unless I already know everyone—though last week when we met up with Luke’s teammates and their fiancées, Jameson and Lauren, and Morgan, I felt much more at ease than usual.

Having Luke by my side must have that effect on me.

“Yeah, so the thing is,” Morgan says, setting her elbows on the table in front of her as she leans in a bit like she’s about to tell me an important secret.

“I’ve met Luke a handful of times before I met you.

I’ve seen him sober, and I’ve seen him a few beers into his night.

I’ve seen him out with the team and with smaller groups of friends.

I’ve seen women hitting on him constantly.

But I’ve never seen him touch another woman.

I’ve never seen him lean in and speak to anyone like they’re keeping each other’s secrets.

I’ve never seen him brush a woman’s hair behind her ear.

And I’ve never seen him unable to tear his eyes away from a woman’s lips. Except...with you.”

I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry. Because yes, Luke does all those things with me. But I’ve seen him act that way with other women too...haven’t I? He’s a professional-grade flirt. I’ve watched it with my own eyes many times over the years.

I wrack my memory, trying to think of the last time I saw him act that way, and I come up short.

I can’t think of a single time in the last few years that I watched him flirt with someone or saw him touch another woman.

I’d half expected to find him in some corner with a woman all over him when we went out with our high school friends, like had happened more than once when we were younger. But...that isn’t what happened.

“And now you’re speechless,” Morgan muses, before taking a sip of her wine.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, suddenly desperate to have someone to talk to you about this.

Because there is no one in my life who I have ever been able to be honest with about my feelings for Luke.

Even while Christopher knows more about my life than just about anyone else, I’ve never even told him the full truth.

“I signed an NDA,” Morgan says with a laugh, “you can quite literally tell me anything. Though really, if it’s something illegal, maybe keep that to yourself?

I have this whole moral complex about doing the right thing.

” She rolls her eyes with a little shake of her head, like she’s laughing at herself.

With her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a sleek bun, the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and her big blue eyes, she comes across as very innocent.

But I’ve seen the way she worked her magic with our situation, shaping our story and helping us spin it into something that looks a lot like true love.

I’ve learned that she works for the famous talk show host Petra Ivanova, and she’s done such a great job that AJ brought her on as a “fixer” to help with social media and PR situations for the Rebels.

She’s the daughter of one of the shrewdest sports agents in the business.

So I’m willing to bet that no one should underestimate Morgan based on her appearance.

I take a deep breath and say, “I used to be completely and totally in love with Luke.”

Morgan clears her throat. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why not?”

“Because his feelings are obvious. Yours are . . . less so.”

“That’s because I used to have feelings for him. Now I know better.” Too bad that knowing better hasn’t truly changed my feelings.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Really? Why’s that?”

“How much time do you have?” I joke, and she glances down at the full plates of steaming hot food that we’ve barely touched since the waiter dropped them off a few minutes ago.

“For this kind of lore? Oh, I have all the time in the world.”

Eight Years Ago

A cross the courtyard, I watch Luke talking to Sadie Montgomery, the blonde cheer captain who’s made her recent crush on him well known.

She was dating the quarterback of our football team for the first half of the year, but they broke up sometime this winter.

It was right in the middle of hockey season, and by the time Luke led our hockey team to the state championship in the early spring, she’d set her sights on my best friend.

I don’t know if she just falls for the captain of whatever team is winning in the current season or if she actually likes Luke, but I’ve watched her overt flirting become more and more ostentatious as we’ve crept toward the end of our senior year.

“What do you think he sees in her?” I ask Reese, who’s standing next to me, commenting on Luke and Sadie’s interaction.

If she swats his chest and throws her head back laughing one more time, I might actually throw up.

Luke’s funny, but he’s not that funny, and I want to yell across the courtyard and tell her she’s trying too hard.

Luke doesn’t like girls who come on too strong.

..or try too hard. Not that he’s specifically said that to me, but every time it’s obvious that a girl is after him, he lets her down gently.

He’s never had a girlfriend and always jokes that I’ve set the bar too high.

I’ll have a girlfriend when I find someone I like better than you, Evie , he always says.