Amber swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat. “Excuse me?” Not even out of the airport and she’d managed to offend someone. That did not bode well for the coming months. Although, to be fair, she had little control over the airline’s schedule.
Hazel eyes twinkled at her as Pixie pointed to her own shirt. “I am missing a great game because of you.” She waved her hand in the air. “Why do you Americans call that silly game you lovefootballwhen the players hardly ever use their feet?” Her tongue clucked in disgust followed a second later by another grin. “Butfuβball,now this is a beautiful game, no? I am Mila, by the way.”
Amber’s gaze lowered to the jersey. Upon closer inspection, she could make out the FIFA—Fédération Internationale de Football Association—emblem in the center of the chest. She recognized the official 2018 World Cup jersey of the German national team.
She rested her palm in Mila’s proffered hand. “Soccer has always been one of my favorite sports.”
Mila’s artfully sculpted brows dipped over her eyes. “You are no longer in America. Only there is it soccer.” She saidsoccerlike it left a bad taste in her mouth. “You are now a citizen of the world, and as such, you must call the glorious sport by its rightful name—fuβball.”
Some of the muscles that had tightened during her transatlantic flight loosened in light of Mila’s good humor.
“Come.” Mila tugged on Amber’s arm. “Let us collect your bags and get back to the center. I am sure you must be tired and want to sleep for days, although I warn you, we plan to put you to work as soon as possible.”
Michael’s old sea bag circled on the carousel, and Amber shouldered her way in front of the motored runner to pick it up. When Michael had heard of Amber’s decision to sign up as a volunteer at the Excellency Center, he’d sent over contact info for his old military buddies in the area in case she ever needed anything. This, of course, was then followed by her eldest brother and lawyer, Adam, compiling a list of pertinent international laws along with numbers and addresses for the local embassy. Her third and closest brother in age, Trent, wouldn’t be left out, making sure she knew all the hotspots to hit for the nightlife, reminding her that all work and no play made Amber a dull girl. She shook her head. Somehow, clubbing and grasping the philosophical nuances of Augustine and Aquinas didn’t seem like they would mesh all that well.
Besides, her brothers worried too much. She hadn’t taken the summer off to need a military intervention, break international laws, or experience her first Heineken. She’d come to volunteer. To serve.
And to get far enough away from the academic and theological noise that filled her ears and heart to clear the static and tune into a direct station. A divine one.
Mila led her to a black sedan parked in the stacked garage and opened the trunk.
“Go ahead and stash your bag in the boot.”
Amber did as directed before sliding into the passenger seat. Once she buckled in, Mila handed Amber a cell phone, a soccer game playing on the screen.
“Forgive my rudeness.” Mila put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. She shifted to drive and maneuvered out of the garage. “There are only three more minutes in stoppage time and the game is tied.”
Amber held the phone out at an angle so Mila could glance at the screen every now and then. She tried to focus on the game, but her vision blurred, eyelids weighed down from lack of sleep. Three minutes wasn’t enough time for even a catnap, but she could rest her eyes and hope some of the grittiness would go away.
The announcer spoke rapidly in German, his voice rising and getting faster.
“Nein!”Mila shouted behind the wheel. She smacked her hand against the dashboard, yelling at the players streaming through her phone like they could hear her.
Amber blinked hard just as the announcer let loose a drawn out, single-syllable word.Toooooooooor!No need for translation, said like that. Every sports announcer all over the world reported a goal in the same way.Goooooaaaaal!
“That man.” Mila poked at her screen with a finger. “I am not sure if I am going to kiss him or slap him.”
Amber tilted the device so she could better see the last seconds of the game. A player with short-cropped light-brown hair and a three-day beard ran across the field with his arms out wide, a smile stretched just as big across his face. He slid on his knees, raking his hands over his head. One of his teammates jumped on his back, and soon others were sliding in around him.
“Seth Marshall,” Mila supplied. “Most valuable player for the Premiere League in Britain, and the center’s returning volunteer.”
Amber’s head jerked back. “He’s coming to work at the Excellency Center?”
She watched as the referee blew his whistle and officially ended the game. The players that had been kneeling on the ground stood and then reached behind themselves, peeling off their sweaty jerseys. Bare, toned flesh walked unashamedly across the field, uncaring of the international audience that watched on.
Amber’s first instinct was to slam her eyes shut and flip the phone over so the screen pressed against her thigh. Her cheeks heated as the players jogged, their muscles rippling with the movement of their bodies. It wasn’t like she’d never seen a guy shirtless before. She had three brothers after all. But Seth Marshall wasn’t her brother, and she wasn’t someone who went around ogling the opposite sex. No matter how well-defined their abs were.
Trent would laugh at her. Remind her of how sheltered her life was.
“He’s not only coming to the center. The two of you will be working together.”
It had to be the lack of sleep that caused a wave of lightheadedness to sweep across her, upsetting her balance though she remained sitting in the passenger seat of the moving vehicle. She glanced back at the screen. Seth, along with his teammates, exchanged jerseys with players from the opposing team, slapping each other on the back in a friendly manner.
Working with refugee children. Teaching English. Organizing games and arts and crafts. Outings and entertainment. Attending cultural events and learning both German and Arabic. That’s what she’d signed up for. Partnering with an international sports celebrity hadn’t been anywhere in the small print.
Something told her that, yet again, her expectations were about to leave her in a tailspin.
Chapter Three
