Page 2 of Not in the Plans (London Lightning #1)

Chapter Two

TAG

F uck me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so tired in my whole damn life. And that’s saying something since I played hockey.

Jet lag is a bitch.

Having arrived early yesterday morning in London, I’ve been powering through exhaustion. With a new job starting in a few days, I wanted to acclimate to the time difference.

Even on my second day here, I can barely keep my eyes open. They’re as dry as sandpaper.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I take in my small apartment. Flat, as I was reminded several times by the cabbie that dropped me off.

Flat. I need to remember that. I’ve already gotten several weird looks when I went to the corner store to grab groceries so I don’t starve.

Thankfully this place is already furnished, so I don’t have to mess around with finding furniture for it.

The entirety of this flat could fit into my bedroom back home. The kitchen is small, with a wall that cuts through the living room. There’s a sliding door across from the kitchen that leads to the bedroom and bathroom.

At least there’s a decent view of a park across the way. Better than the graffitied brick on the other side of my building.

Nothing fancy, but since I don’t need much, it’s fine. I’m only here on a short-term contract with the Lightning. I have a lot to do in the way of proving myself to the team.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Alfie

Did you make it okay?

I smile down at the message from my new assistant coach. I’ve called and texted with him a few times since I got the offer. Coming in during the middle of the season is never a good thing. The team was floundering with their old coach, and the owner of the team wanted to mix things up.

Tag

I did

Fucking tired as hell, but I made it

You know what they say beats jet lag?

What?

A pint at the pu b

I burst out laughing, dropping onto the couch that is entirely too small for my six-four frame. Maybe I will need to find some new furniture.

Is that so?

Especially if the assistant coach is buying

How can I say no to that?

Great. See you in twenty

I punch the name of the pub into my phone and see that it’s a short walk away. This is something I’m not used to. At home in Nashville, I had to drive everywhere. Now, with a card for the subway loaded onto my phone, I don’t need a car.

Stepping into my black boots, I head out into the London night.

Cars are rattling along the road. Something else I need to get used to—driving on the other side of the road.

I didn’t do much traveling growing up. With hockey, it took precedence over everything. I never experienced anything like this.

An Indian restaurant is next to a laundromat which is next to a cell phone repair store. Down the way is where I stopped in for food. And beyond that is a small park before a music store.

An eclectic mix of everything.

Something I’m already finding in my neighborhood? There is no shortage of pubs. Every facade seems to want to one-up the other. Colors explode out of hanging flower baskets. Large windows are open to tables with stools, people crowded around with beers in hand.

Finding the pub Alfie mentioned, I squeeze in through a group of well-dressed people and scan the crowd. I’ve only seen Alfie in pictures, but I spot him immediately.

With curly red hair and glasses, he stands out. I never would have thought this man to be a hockey player, but he was one of the best to ever play for the Lightning. He was brought on as a new assistant coach.

They cleaned house when they let go of the old coach.

“Alfie.”

“Stanley. Good to finally meet you in person.”

I shake his proffered hand.

“Please, call me Tag.”

“Still weird to me they hired an American.” He flags down the bartender. “What’ll ya be having?”

“IPA if you have one.”

“Got it.” The bartender nods and grabs a glass to pull my drink. “Cheers, mate.”

I smile at him as I raise my glass in toast. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

I sip on the hoppy beer, letting it buzz through my veins. Now that I’m out, I feel better. More awake.

“How’s the flat?” Alfie asks. “Everything good there?”

I waggle my head in a figure eight motion. “Fine. Might need a new couch though. Not made for an ex-hockey player.”

“Definitely not. I’ve got a place I can recommend for you.”

“Thanks.”

My eyes scan the crowd and I’m drawn to the trio of women laughing at the high-top table across the bar, especially one in particular.

She is the definition of prim and proper. A white blouse, fastened to her neck. Black blazer. Skirt that hits just above the knee and low heels. Brown hair tumbles around her shoulders.

What I wouldn’t do to ruffle that woman up.

“You still with me?” Fingers snap in front of me. A huge grin is on his face.

“What? Sorry.”

“I take it you’re single then, mate?”

“I am.”

For the first time in a long time, saying that doesn’t hurt. Having gotten divorced last year, it doesn’t stir up all sorts of feelings to tell him that.

It feels like this is a fresh start.

“Are you looking for anything?”

“Why do you say that?” I sip my drink.

“You were being quite obvious,” Alfie tells me.

“Was I?” I laugh. “It’s been a minute since I’ve dated anyone.”

“You need tips? You could always order her and her friends a round.”

I spin on my stool to face my new coworker. “I’m good. If she comes over, I’ll take it as a sign.”

“You sure?” he asks.

I quirk a brow at him. “Do you want to go talk to them? Do you need tips?”

“Fuck off.” Alfie flips me off. “Is this what I have to look forward to? You being a cheeky shit?”

“You’ll learn to love me.”

“If you can turn the Lightning around, I will. Christ, we’re terrible,” he tells me.

“I think we have a good team.”

“Aren’t you an optimist?”

I watched footage of the team before I got here. We certainly aren’t the best team in the league, but not the worst. There’s a lot of work to be done and I’m excited for it.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You got that right.” Alfie nods behind me before standing and making himself scarce.

“What?”

Before I know what’s happening, the sexy woman from earlier is standing in front of me. She’s a solid foot shorter than I am.

A smile plays on her lips. “Hello.”

God, is her accent ever adorable. It matches her perfectly. Prim and proper. Posh, if you will.

“Hi there.”

Her eyes go wide. “American?”

I nod. “Just arrived in town yesterday.”

“What brings you to England?” she asks.

“New job.”

“Well, welcome to London. Hopefully you’ll find it amenable.”

“Amenable?” I lean back in my barstool and wave a hand for her to take Alfie’s vacated seat. “So far I’m finding it very amenable. ”

She fights a smile as she hops onto the chair, crossing her legs at her ankles.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Tag. You?”

“Olivia.”

“Olivia. Well, it’s very nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand for her to shake. She studies it before taking it.

Damn, is her skin ever soft. I can’t help but rub my thumb over the back of it. Her fingernails are painted a soft pink. I shouldn’t be noticing these things about her. I’m here to focus on hockey, not women .

“You too.” She gives me a shy smile. “Do you live in this area?”

I nod. “A short walk. Still need to get my bearings, but I find I like this pub already.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Quite the clientele here.”

“I see.”

A blush creeps up her cheeks. This is not how I expected the night to go. A pint with Alfie? Yes. Hoping to take this woman home? No.

Olivia sets her empty glass down on the bar and smiles at me. “What are you most excited to see here?”

I lean closer. “I don’t want to talk about the sights.”

“What do you want to talk about then?” she asks, sipping from a lowball glass, nearly empty with clear liquid.

“You.”

“M-me?” she stutters. “Why me?”

“You came over here to talk to me. You can’t only want to talk about London.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?” I ask her.

This close, there’s a fire in her blue eyes. “Well, I did come over here for a reason.”

“And that reason is?”

“Ask me to go home with you, Tag.”

The corner of my mouth pulls up in a smile. There is something damn sexy about how this woman says my name. I’ve never heard it sound so sweet.

“Is there a reason you can’t ask me, Olivia?”

“Because a lady never propositions a man.”

Gulping down one last sip of my beer, I set my drink down. “Is that so?”

She nods. “Your clock is ticking. ”

“Well, then, Olivia. Would you like to go home with me?”

“Where do you live?”

“What?” Her about-face throws me for a loop.

“Where do you live? I need to tell my friends where I’ll be.”

“Safety first. I appreciate that.” Grabbing a cocktail napkin, I flag the bartender down to pay my bill and pull out my phone for my address—something I need to memorize. “Here you go.”

She takes it from me, finishing her drink. “Be right back.”

Olivia rushes by in a whiff of roses and gin. Fuck. She smells delicious. I want that smell all over my bed. All over me. Fuck. It has my cock stirring in my pants as I watch the woman who has captured my attention rush back to her friends.

They glance over at me as I give them a little wave.

This was not how I intended to spend my second night in London. I planned on going to bed at a reasonable hour so I could sleep off the jet lag before heading to the rink to get to know my new team. Now? Jet lag is nowhere in sight.

That plan is now out the window as Olivia strides over to me, purse secured to her shoulder.

I stand, holding my hand out to her. “Do I have your permission to take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Thank fuck.

She takes my hand and I lead her out of the pub.

“It’s a short walk this way.”

“Lead the way, Tag.”