Page 127 of Rookie Recovery

“Well, then.” I leaned in to nip at his ear. “You’ll just have to imagine my bed is that table, won’t you?”

The blare of another buzzer split the quiet, bringing the arena to its feet. We’d scored. Again.

The night, it seemed, was coming up Bobcats.

Chapter 18

Bowie

“The guys in green are South Africa, and the guys in black are New Zealand,” I said, pulling my feet up onto Jamie’s couch and tucking them under his warm ass. In the corner of the apartment, Brady let off a huge resonating snore and kicked a leg upwards.

I leaned forward to grab a handful of …

“Crudites! Vegetables? What the hell? To watch the Rugby World Cup final? Really?” I hovered my hand above the dish, unwilling, unable to close my fist around carrot and celery batons. “Where’s the dip? There’s not even any dip. How am I supposed to eat veggies without dip?”

Jamie pushed the plate closer to me. “You’re a recovering professional athlete who’s playing in next week’s Cavs game. Healthy snacks from hereon. I could go make you a couple of boiled eggs, if you want? Or a tuna steak.”

I pulled a face.

“Besides, Katie will murder me if she finds out you’ve been snarfing any more British junk food. So, who are we rooting for?”

“Pfft, fine.” I took two carrot sticks, shoved them both into my mouth, and sat back on the couch. “Wow, I am so satisfied,” I said, my mouth full of carrot chunks. “Those raw veggies have surely sated all my cravings. I could not be more satisfied if I tried.”

Jamie rolled his eyes in the way that said, you’re cute, but I will not be swayed. I loved that about him. It was a huge part of why I loved him. His dogged determination to stick to the plan. His unfaltering assuredness of said plan. His sheer dedication when executing the plan, or anything else. He didn’t do things by halves.

All or nothing. Balls to the wall. We will triumph. And I loved that. It was what got me through my injury. Knowing Jamie was there to oversee my recovery. Keep me on track. Keep me focused.

And I loved that … for him.

Not for me, though.

From between the arm of the sofa and the back cushions, I discreetly extracted a Wagon Wheel, a delicious chocolatey, jammy, biscuity, mallowy, slightly cardboardy British teatime snack, which I had tucked there earlier in case of this very outcome. A little melted and stuck to the wrapper, but it probably still tasted the same as I remembered from my childhood.

“Who are we cheering for?” Jamie repeated from his end of the couch, a piece of raw broccoli poised at his lips. How that man could make a hunk of cold, unseasoned veg seem sexy was beyond me, but … there we were. It almost made me want to toss my slice of nostalgia over my shoulder and gobble the tiny tree right out of his hand. Almost.

It took me a few moments to clear my head and remember he’d asked a question. As always, he looked distractingly good. In bamboo-soft, grey sweatpants and a pristine, white cotton T-shirt, which pulled deliciously over his chest and skimmed the muscles on his stomach. His decorated forearms and biceps were on full display for me.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Jamie laughed. “Who do we want to win?” He said it slowly, like I was new to the language.

“Right, um, well, we usually back the All Blacks if England or Wales or Ireland or Scotland aren’t playing.”

He nodded as though it all made perfect sense to him.

I took a secret bite of Wagon Wheel. So weird and delicious. Exactly like I remembered. “Actually, I’m just going to text Mum and let her know we’re watching the match.” I removed my phone from my back pocket and shot Jamie a glance. My heart rate spiked, my palms suddenly felt sweaty. “What should I say?”

“Huh?” Now it was his turn to look at me confused. “What do you mean, what should you say?”

“Like …” My cheeks heated and found it difficult to look him in the eyes. I scrubbed a hand through the back of my hair. “Uh … should I say … just watching the rugby final with my boyfriend?” I tried to say it as casually as possible, but my voice still caught on the end word.

He frowned at me, and my stomach flipped over my two bites of Wagon Wheel. I had finally taken it too far. Asked him for something he wasn’t comfortable with.

I’d wanted to make us official. Since last week at the Bobcats arena when we’d made up. When I told Jamie I loved him. And when Jamie said he loved me back. Let everyone know just how much we loved each other. But going by the expression on his face, he was nowhere near as ready as I was. His eyebrows were pulled together in the centre, his cheek lifted, revealing one side of his teeth, like a snarly, but sexy, hound.

“What?” he said, his eyes now narrowed to thin lines.

“I mean …” Oh fuck, how could I take it back? “If you’re not ready for that, we can totally wait, or you know, if you want something more casual …”

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