His to Win (The Alpha Soccer Saga #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

escalator to curbside pickup, while she had farther to go to reach baggage claim.
    Setting his bag down on a bench, Patrick turned to Ellie. “Well, this seems to be the end of our journey, love.”
    Kissmekissmekissmekissmekissmekissme, Ellie thought.
    “Thank you for everything, flying with you has been absolutely delightful. Enjoy Glasgow, avoid haggis, hopefully we’ll be able to get together in a day or two, your schedule permitting.” Patrick winked at her and Ellie about fell over. She was as pathetic as a lovesick teenager next to her favorite boy-band member.
    Kissmekissmekissmekissmekissmekissme. (Did he really just say ‘shed-jule’??? Could he be any more adorable?) Please kiss me. Ellie thought that if she wished for it hard enough, it had to come true. It just had to.
    I could just grab her and kiss her. I really could. I should. Do I even remember how? Who’s the last person I kiss kissed? If she isn’t into it, do I want to get arrested on the eve of signing with Celtic? Patrick struggled with the decision, the awkwardness of the situation much more difficult for him to navigate than defending a Manchester United corner kick.
    He decided to take her hands and do what felt natural.
    As Patrick reached down and took Ellie’s hands in his, and she stared into those bluer than blue eyes, she froze. Her nervous system wasn’t in sync with the messages her eyes were sending to her brain. Something must be wrong, a man this gorgeous couldn’t possibly be holding her hands and moving in to kiss her?
    Patrick loved the softness of her skin in his hands, but the way she jerked when he lifted her hands into his . . . what did it mean? Had he misread the entire situation? He decided to tap the brakes. He wanted to get close enough to smell her hair again, but her reaction meant a “movie-style,” romantic good-bye kiss might not be received well.
    He leaned in, instead, and kissed her softly on the forehead, lingering long enough to inhale her floral scent. As he withdrew, he lifted her hands and kissed the back of each, giving them a squeeze and breaking into a toothy grin as he bid her farewell, “Good evening, Ellie Peavey.”
    “Good-bye, Patrick; good luck tomorrow!” Ellie replied, disappointed by her reaction to Patrick and by Patrick choosing to kiss her where he did. She could think of several other places that she needed his lips more desperately than her forehead, but she also realized that there must be about ten zillion girls out there who’d kill to be standing in her shoes. Her sensible, comfortable flats, purchased on sale at The Shoe Barn, now the envy of every girl in the world.
    Ellie watched Patrick as he descended on the escalator, glancing at his mobile phone before turning back for one last look at her.
    He smiled.
    And winked.
    And Ellie’s heart melted into a puddle in those Shoe Barn flats.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Tom and Patrick exchanged small talk in the car, going over some of the particulars of Celtic’s offer and the planned events of the next day.
    The Grand Central was much more opulent than Patrick would have picked for himself, but a touch of luxury now and then wasn’t such a bad thing.
    Having already been checked in by his agent, Patrick entered his lavish suite and tossed his bag on the bed. He’d looked at his phone half a dozen times just from the lobby to his room, all in hopes of a call or text from Ellie. Nothing, but he didn’t dare make contact so soon. Christ, he thought, they’d been apart for only half an hour. Had she cast a spell on him?

********
    Waiting for her bag to arrive on the luggage carousel, Ellie was approached by a man about her age with a shaved head and who was short several teeth, wearing a crisp, green T-shirt. “Oi! Was that the Mad Monk I saw you wif?”
    Taken aback by the brusque stranger, Ellie clutched her laptop bag and purse tightly. “Mad what? Who? I’m sorry, I don’t . . .”
    “American? Ha! Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean