Scoring a Fake Fiancee: A Pro Soccer Matchmaker Fake Engagement Romantic Comedy (Mr. Match Book 2) by Delancey Stewart

Author:Delancey Stewart [Stewart, Delancey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-06T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Crisco and Onion Rings

Trace

“How did it go?” Erica was waiting when I got home from practice Saturday, her face worried. “Are you going to get to play tomorrow?”

I looked around. Our usually lived-in house was spotless and the long granite bar was covered with bowls of chips and salsa, guacamole and little rolled tacos. “You’ve been busy.”

“Your fiancée is coming over. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

“My fake fiancée,” I reminded her, something inside me cringing as if it had only just been reminded too.

“Either way.” Erica looked me up and down. “So you’re fine? You’re playing?”

“I’m playing. Doc said I’m good as long as I don’t reinjure it. So if everyone shoots on my right side, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure they’ll agree to that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Go take a shower. It’s almost five.”

“Fuerte coming?”

“He declined,” Erica said, sticking her bottom lip out. “He’s so superstitious.” She flopped down on the couch. “He is still insisting that he has to be alone the night before a game. He has his pre-game ritual or whatever.”

I grabbed a shake from the refrigerator and went to stand at the end of the couch, drinking my protein shake and thinking. “Has he told you what the ritual is yet?”

She pouted. “No.”

“I think it involves heavy amounts of masturbation. Probably a lot of Crisco and maybe some onion rings.” I had no idea what it entailed, but I knew this would get a rise out of my sister and I couldn’t help it.

“Ew!” She threw a pillow at me from the couch. “It definitely does not.” She crossed her arms and seemed to be thinking about whether maybe I was right. “Please go shower. You’re disgusting.”

I did as she asked, feeling remarkably good about everything. We were in a good position going into these final games, and leaving the regular season with the best record would set us up nicely for playoffs. My shoulder ached a bit, but nothing that would keep me from playing well. And I was happy about Magalie coming over.

I dressed and went back downstairs to find she had already arrived, and my heart raced as I saw her sitting at the counter, Erica seated next to her and their heads bent close in conversation. A streak of fear flew through me—was Erica giving her the third degree? Or something worse? Was there a fourth or fifth degree? Erica would surely be capable of advanced degree-giving if that was a thing.

But just as I got to the bottom of the stairs, Magalie threw her head back and laughed, the sound happy and melodic and sexy all at once. I stopped, watching. Erica was laughing too, and she reached out a hand, dropping it on top of Magalie’s on the bar. Between hysterical laughing and gasping for breath, I heard her saying, “And then he wore the suit all night, and it was super tight in the crotch because it was way too small, and his

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