Huh.
His neighbor was onto something.
I wasn’t a big gardener myself, but that wasn’t for lack of wanting to. I’d never had the space until I moved back here.
I was going to remember that. Surely reusing that plastic was far better than recycling it straight away, right?
Hmm. Was it too late to start sunflowers?
“London?”
I jerked back to reality at the sound of my name. “What?”
They both shook their heads.
“I was asking you how the speed dating was going,” Seb said, amused. “Any luck? Holley keeps going on about it.”
“No,” I replied. “No luck yet, but I’ve had just about enough of it. Two minutes isn’t long enough to get to know someone, much less find out if they’re good with kids.”
“That’s true. Although you won’t really know unless you see them with kids, will you?”
I shrugged one shoulder. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? I wanted to create a strong relationship that I thought would last before introducing Leo into the equation, but I also didn’t want to get feelings that were too strong before doing that in case they didn’t get along.
It was quite the conundrum.
I sighed. “My life would be so much easier if my ex had kept it in his pants.”
They both laughed. “Do you think you’d still be together?” Oliver asked.
“No,” I admitted. “We’re wildly different people. He likes the corporate mojo and I’m more of a free spirit. Also, Florida is way too hot for me. I prefer the cold.”
“Same,” Oliver agreed. “But I’m British and allergic to anything higher than eighteen degrees. I start to melt.”
“Eighteen degrees? That’s cold!”
“Celsius,” Seb muttered. “He means Celsius, London.”
Oh. “Oh. What’s that in Fahrenheit?”
Seb clicked his tongue. “About sixty, sixty-five. Give or take a couple degrees.”
“How can you do that in your head?”
“Simple math.”
“Oh, that’s it, then. It’s math,” I said dryly.
Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “Not a fan of numbers?”
“Watch enough shows designed to teach your kid how to count and you’ll feel the same as me.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “But no, math is not my strong point.”
“Right.” Seb got up and took my empty plate. “I need to go and check on a couple of things in the gym with Dylan. Ollie, do you have time to run London down there before your class?”
“I got it,” he replied with half a mouthful of food. “I need to talk about Leo for a second anyway.”
Uh oh.
That didn’t sound good.
“Okay. See you in about fifteen,” Seb said. He left the room with a half-hearted wave after putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher.
I turned to Oliver. “Is there a problem with Leo?”
“No, quite the opposite actually.” He paused. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”
“Little bit.” I hid a laugh behind my hand. “What’s up?”
“I want him to be in goal this weekend at the tournament, like I told you,” he said slowly. “But I also want to give him some one-on-one training to help him pinpoint a couple of his weaknesses and work on them.”
“Oh.” I swallowed and looked down, toying with the edge of a clean napkin. “I don’t—I don’t think I can afford that, Oliver.”
“Oh, no, no!” He held up his hands, drawing my attention back up. “I didn’t mean… here.”
I frowned.
“You have a back garden, right? He talks about his goal at home and how he practices. I taught him some of the solo drills.”
“We have a pretty big yard, yeah.”
“If you don’t mind, I’m happy to come over and do it at your place. For free.”
“Oh. Um, I guess. That would work. When did you want to come over? He’s still with his dad today, then he has practice tomorrow.”
“What about Tuesday or Thursday? I don’t coach on Tuesdays, and I’m done at six-thirty on Thursdays.”
“Whichever one is easiest for you.”
“I can do both?”
“I don’t want to impose on you.” I scrunched the napkin up into a ball and tossed it in the trash can as I got up from the table. “Only when you can.”
“I can do both, London. It’s fine. He’s a good kid and very talented. I don’t mind.” He followed me out of the kitchen. “This way.”
“Like I said, only when you can. I don’t mind, if you think it’ll help him.” I hesitated, chewing the inside of my lip. “I just feel bad about taking up your personal time and not paying you.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Personal time? What do you think I do? I share the same friend group you do, I have no family here, and I don’t have any pets. All I do is work. I don’t want your money. I genuinely want to help him.”
“Okay, fine, but at least let me cook you dinner as a thank you.”
“Homemade food instead of ready meals or take out? You won’t get me saying no to that.” He flashed me a dazzling smile and punched in a code on the elevator in front of us. The doors opened, and he gestured for me to go first with the sweep of his hand. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you.” I stepped inside the silver box ahead of him. “How do you feel about lasagna?”
“I’ve never turned that down in my life.” He hit the button marked ‘GYM’ and the elevator whirred to life. It started with a jolt, and I lost my balance, falling to the side into a very hard, very warm body.
Oliver caught me.
My hand was flat against his stomach, and I could feel all his muscles beneath my fingertips. My cheeks flamed red as the elevator shuddered again, this time to a stop. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should have warned you. It’s a bit jarring, but you get used to it.”
I extracted myself from his very strong arms and brushed off my shirt, clearing my throat. “Thank you. The last thing I need is a bump on the head.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “The gym is right through there.”
“Uh, thank you.” I returned his smile, nervously pushing my hair behind my ear. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” With a wink, Oliver pressed a button on the elevator panel, and the doors closed in front of him.
CHAPTER EIGHT – OLIVER
RULE EIGHT: TWO HOURS IS BETTER THAN TWO MINUTES.
“Yeah! I got it!” Leo bounced on the balls of his feet. “Ollie!”
“That was amazing, mate!” I clapped my hands together. “That’s your best save yet! You see what a difference your foot placement made? You could move in both directions much quicker than before.”
He nodded emphatically, retrieving the football. “Can we try again?”
“One more time,” London called from the back door. “Dinner is almost ready.”