Page 1 of Shes my 1 Try

ONE

Asher

This is my year. The year of Asher Scott.

Got a multi-year, multi-million-dollar contract with the hottest new team in the league—Check.

Bought a sweet new home right on the beach—Check.

Moving closer to the only family I’ve ever really cared about—Check.

Footloose. Fancy free. Ready to kick ass on the field—Check, check and check.

Oh, did I mention I’ve also been chosen to be part of the Hot Bods of League photo book? Big fat check. In fact, before I even set foot on the field for The Dingoes, I’ll be strutting my stuff in front of the camera. Gotta get my first training session out of the way, though.

Most new guys come in quiet and humble. I’m not that guy. Never have been and I won’t apologise for it. If Kai and Billy, the captain and who I like to call the enforcer of the team, don’t like it…well, that’s just tough shit. I’m here to win premierships. Not to make friends. I learnt that lesson the hard way on my last team. Got sucked into the whole we’re family shit and felt every damn knife in my back as my star soared.

Jealousy is a curse and so is arrogance, according to my manager. I’d rather be an arrogant prick than a jealous fool. Finishing off a set of leg presses, I swipe the towel off the machine and wipe it down.

“At least you’ve got good machine etiquette,” a voice says beside me and I twist to find Kai Martin, The Dingoes captain, setting up the leg curl machine. “I see I’ll have to get here even earlier.”

“Gotta make a good impression.” I shrug, stretching my shoulders and biceps before I move on to the next part of my routine.

“Keep it up,” he grunts, and I can’t help notice the faint impressed twitch of his lips, and my ego eats that shit up.

I’ve played on the opposite side of the field to Kai. It’s part of what drew me to sign with The Dingoes. The man has footy in his blood. The way he runs the plays on the field—well, there aren’t too many better. Add to the fact his dad, Jason Martin, is the coach, a genius on the field in his day as well. What’s not to love about the team?

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Looks like the new guy is trying to show us all up.” Billy Hunt struts into the gym, some of the other team members behind him.

“Someone’s gotta earn their money,” I snark back, moving on to the deadlift.

“Oooh, new guy’s got an attitude, boys,” Billy stirs, the other guys whistling and laughing.

“Nah,” I shake my head, adjusting my grip on the bar and shuffling my feet apart. “I just know I’m worth it.”

A round of oohs fill the room as they laugh and shove at each other. “Looks like you got competition for the smartest mouth, bruh,” a big unit, Gideon, chuckles, a wry smile on his face.

“I doubt that’s possible,” Kai adds, getting up from his set on the leg curl machine.

“Thanks for having my back, bro.” Billy slaps him upside the head as he walks past him.

“Everyone and their dog knows you’re the biggest mouth in the south. No one wants that title. Asher here is feeling his way in, aren’t you?” I know this is all banter, but Kai’s tone and the way he stands between us, there’s no mistaking who’s the top dog. Not that I want that job, and I hold my hands up.

“That’s right. Just finding the line in the sand,” I smirk, popping my neck side to side.

“As long as you don’t cross it,” Kai inclines his head in my direction, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get that pretty face all busted up before your photoshoot,” Billy stirs, gaining hive-fives from the guys standing around him.

“Jealousy is a curse, Hunt.” I wipe my hands on my towel as Billy steps in closer, his chest puffed up.

“Seriously?” A woman’s voice cuts through the tension and all heads turn her way. All but Billy and me. We’re in the stare-down phase of getting to know each other. “Can you please put the testosterone away for five minutes. It stinks in here. No one wants to see either of you get your asses handed to you when Dad gets here. So stow it!”

“You heard the lady, pretty boy.” Billy waggles his eyebrows at me as if he’s somehow won this round of whatever the fuck it is we’re doing.

“Billy, leave Asher alone,” the woman, Kennedy, groans, walking towards us and giving the man who is her partner a shove. “Please don’t break the multi-million-dollar winger before we have a chance to try him out on the field.”

“He’d have to catch me first, beautiful,” I wink, knowing full well it’ll send him into a rage.

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