Page 4 of A Little Bit More
The Beginning and the End of the Invertary Football League
This story takes place after Bad Boy, where we first met Flynn Boyle, a former professional soccer player. At this point, Lake’s plan for a Benson Security office in London is still a pipe dream. And Mitch, Logan, and Megan haven’t met their soulmates.
Although Joe has met his in Julia.
She just doesn’t know it yet!
The first—and last—match of Invertary’s brand new, minuscule, football league took place on a misty Saturday morning in October. For this auspicious occasion, Flynn Boyle had chosen the pitch nearest the pub, thinking he might need a stiff drink once the match was over. He’d been on the field five minutes, and already he was craving a double whisky.
“Where’s the rest of your team?” he asked his high school nemesis as they stood in the middle of the pitch. The man was flanked by his three younger brothers and a few of their friends.
Lachlan MacGregor folded his arms over a blue shirt printed with the words Invertary Invaders. There was a smirk on his face that Flynn wanted to wipe off with his fist. Even after all these years, Lachlan got on his very last nerve.
“They’re getting changed.” Lachlan nodded toward the concrete block that housed the changing rooms. “We need to talk about a handicap. It’s no’ fair that we’re up against a professional—even if he only played for Arsenal. We want a two-goal head start.”
Aye, Flynn’s fist had a burning desire to be buried in Lachlan’s face. “Not happening. Your team has its fair share of competent players. Hell, you could have gone professional if you’d wanted.” And didn’t those words just burn in his throat? “Everybody on your team grew up playing the game. Whereas I have a bunch of Americans, who call the game soccer and think football is basically rugby played wearing armor. Josh over there doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. He’s handicap enough to even things out.”
“I heard that,” Josh shouted as a ball flew through the air and hit his head.
“See what I mean?” Flynn said in disgust.
“Stop pissing around,” Lachlan said. “We both know you could be a team of one and still run rings around any other side. Plus, look at your goalie. If we get anything past him, it’ll be a miracle.”
Flynn glanced back at Grunt, who at six and a half feet of pure muscle, bore a striking resemblance to the Hulk. “Don’t worry too much about him. He’s American an’ all.”
“He knows how to play the game, right?” Lachlan said, his eyes also on Grunt. “He’s no’ likely to lose the plot and run rampage through my team if a ball comes at him, is he?”
Flynn cocked his head in consideration. “I don’t think so.” Although he’d be the first to admit that he didn’t sound convinced.
“Three-goal lead,” Lachlan amended. “And I’ll make sure nobody sues when the big guy goes nuts.”
“Not going to happen.”
“How about we only count every second goal you score?”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
Lachlan considered him. “Well, now that you mention it…”
Flynn’s fist clenched. Really, what harm would one wee punch do? Especially when the dickhead was clearly asking for it.
“Lachy!” a delighted female voice called.
A female voice Flynn knew only too well. He turned to see Abby rushing over to them. His Abby. His fiancée. Who was beaming at his nemesis. And the arse was beaming back.
“Abby.” Lachlan’s voice softened, sounding intimate. “You’re looking gorgeous as usual.”
“Flatterer,” Abby said but blushed anyway.
Blushed? For Lachlan? Flynn was ten seconds away from either vomiting or rearranging the opposing team captain’s features.
“I was looking for you,” Abby told the man.
“You’ve come to your senses then and realized you could do a whole lot better than this one?” Lachlan nodded his head at Flynn.
“That’s it!” Flynn launched himself at the cocky, woman-stealing, arrogant, smarmy… Two sets of arms suddenly held him back. His cousin Matt and his brother, Harry, had obviously been on standby just in case Flynn blew—traitors.
“Rein it in.” Matt’s voice was low and calm in Flynn’s ear. “Beat him on the pitch, where it counts.”
