Page 4 of The Way Home

Caleb watched as Sally smoothly introduced herself to the fan and her friends, angling her body just enough to place herself in front of Dillion. He’d worked with enough high-profile athletes to recognize the move. Sally was their unofficial fan-handler, managing the inevitable swarm of fans and shielding Dillion from anything that might end up on social media.

There was always one.

After pointing out all the players at the table, who offered polite nods, Sally dragged Caleb up from the table to help manage the crowd now forming around the athletes. Selfies were taken, and shirts were autographed.

He found himself trying to understand all the British accents and lingo, shaking hands with a bunch of fans, and answering about one million questions.

Is it amazing, working with all these incredible ladies?

Do you play football, too?

You’re American!?

As he tried his best to answer, Caleb felt the prickling sensation of a pair of eyes on the back of his neck. His hackles raised, and, when he turned, he caught a man staring at him from a few yards away.

The man didn’t look threatening, just… shocked.

He looked to be about thirty, around Caleb’s age, with curly brown hair and a thin pair of glasses framing bright green eyes. Startlingly green, actually, and Caleb found himself staring a second longer than he probably should have. The collar of the man’s shirt was flipped up on one side, and he had a bike helmet tucked under his arm.

When Caleb caught him staring, the man quickly looked away.

For fear of being rude or looking like a dick in front of his newteam, Caleb approached him and stuck out his hand. “Hi. Caleb Reed.”

“American,” the man blurted, eyes immediately widening, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip. “I mean you, erm, you’reAmerican.”

He reached out and shook Caleb’s hand.

Caleb smiled. “What gave me away?”

“Your accent,” the stranger replied seriously.

Caleb raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Yes, I know. I was kidding.” They were still shaking hands awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you…?” The corner of his lip twitched as he waited for this strange man to introduce himself.

“Oh, James.Jamie.Me.” He let go of Caleb’s hand and stuffed it into his navy pants. “I go by Jamie.”

Oof, this was awkward.

Caleb glanced at the crowd surrounding the athletes. “Are you a Chelsea fan?”

“Yeah, of course.” His bike helmet scratched the fabric of his shirt as he adjusted it under his arm. “But not as much as the group I’m here with. Sorry they’re fussing over the girls and all that. They’re mad about the team.”

Caleb frowned. “Mad?”

Jamie tilted his head in confusion. “Mad… like, obsessed?”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. English lingo, I reckon.” A long finger pushed his glasses up his nose, and it made Caleb’s heart do a weird little tumble. “How long have you been in England? Haven’t picked up on our vernacular yet, have you?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Only a few days. I’m starting to learn that fans around here are a bit crazy.” He glanced at the fans swarming the team before turning back to Jamie. “It’s not like that for soccer in America.”

Jamie flashed an amused smile at the wordsoccer.His teeth were exceptionally white, and now that Caleb stood closer, he noticed the cut line of his jaw. Oh, he was fucking cute.

Caleb was a sucker for a hot nerd.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Well, if I knowthisgroup, they’ll begetting autographs for the next hour. So I should probably settle in with a drink.” He shifted his weight from side to side.

“May I join you?” Caleb asked. “I need a break from the chaos.”