"Morning." She attempts a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Sorry if I woke you."
"You didn't." I pour coffee, watching her carefully. "Everything okay?"
"People are trolling Brad online." She sets her mug down with a sharp click. "He’s convinced you, and I planned this all somehow. Said we're embarrassing ourselves trying to makehimjealous."
"Ah, yes. We orchestrated his cheating as part of our master plan to get attention," I deadpan. "Genius."
That brings a genuine smile from her. "He said, and I quote, ‘all anyone has to do is look at you to realize why I strayed.’”
Something hot and angry flares in my chest. "He actually said that?"
She shrugs, but I can see the hurt beneath her casual demeanor. "It's fine. It's just Brad being Brad."
"It's not fine. It's bullshit." I lean against the counter, facing her directly. A thought occurs to me. I pull out my phone and make sure she can see as I order a 50-pound bag of organic manure to be delivered to their apartment. “It’s a hot day,” I tell her. “Let’s leave a note that it’s fine to drop the package in the doorway.” Lena titters and then laughs long and hard. I slide my phone into my pocket and point at her. "For the record, anyone would be lucky to date you."
She rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of color in her cheeks. "You don't have to say that."
"I'm not just saying it." I'm surprised by how strongly I mean it. "You're smart, funny, kind to my weird dog, and you put up with my brothers. That's already more than most people manage."
"Well, when you put it that way," she says with a small laugh. "Clearly, I'm a catch."
"Clearly," I agree, and for a moment, we just look at each other, and something unspoken passes between us. Then Gordie nudges my leg, breaking the spell.
"Someone needs his breakfast," Lena says, turning away quickly.
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Big day today. Operation Soccer Smear.”
"Should we coordinate outfits?" she asks, seemingly grateful for the subject change. "For maximum conspicuousness."
"I'll wear my Fury jersey." I feed Gordie while thinking. "Do you have anything team-related? I might have an extra jersey you could borrow."
"I doubt your clothes would fit me," she says, that familiar self-deprecation creeping in.
"You'd be surprised.” I glance at her, suddenly imagining the way my jersey would look draped around her boobs. "But you could wear whatever makes you comfortable. The point is for us to cause chaos, not to dress alike."
She nods, but I can tell she's still thinking about it. "I mostly want to keep my name out of it…but I guess that ship has sailed.” Lena releases a groan. “What time should we head over?"
We should aim to arrive around six-thirty. The match starts at seven, which is prime time for Adam to spot us.
"And we just... sit there? Looking happy?"
"We enjoy the match," I correct. "Cheer for the Hot Metal. Eat overpriced nachos. And if photos happen to be taken of us ignoring the gossip…” I shrug. "That's just a bonus."
Lena smiles a mischievous glint in her eye. "I can't wait to see his face."
When we arrive, the stadium is already buzzing. I'm wearing my game-day Fury jersey with a baseball cap pulled low, but it's really just for show. In Pittsburgh, I'm recognized pretty much everywhere, especially during hockey season. I sign afew soccer programs for kids on the way in, and Lena snaps some pics for excited fans.
Lena walks beside me in jeans and a black Hot Metal T-shirt she found at the team store on our way in. "There are a lot of people here," she murmurs as we make our way to our seats.
"Game's been promoted heavily," I explain. "But even though you look damn fine, I think the people are more focused on the field. Hot Metal's having a good season, and Cara's one of their star players."
Lena’s lips tip up in a small smile, and I sense her relax after my compliment. "Is Cara really dating your cousin?"
"Yeah, Wes is on the men’s team. He’s got an away match, though." I guide her through the crowd with a light touch on the small part of her back. "My family's pretty serious about soccer, too. We're athletic overachievers."
"I noticed," she says dryly.
We find our seats—great ones, offering clear views of both the field and the VIP section where Adam will be working. I scan the crowd but don't spot him yet.
