Page 51 of Kiss and Make Love

Too dramatic?

No. Not too dramatic.

Marco wants to meet up with me! I squeal, hug the cup to my chest, and do a little dance outside the driver-side door of my hatchback. An elderly man across the street shoots me a strange expression before continuing on his way. I should really get in my vehicle and leave now.

I shut the door behind me and settle in my seat, still staring at the message on the cup. Who knew that ten words and seven digits could bring a girl so much joy?

The storage room fantasy doesn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

Okay, yes, it does.

It’s still unlikely, and it would be foolish to believe that Marco the Man would act like Marco the Fantasy. But what I have is better. An actual chance to go on an actual date with the actual Marco.

Whokneadsa fantasy when I’ve got a shot at the real thing?

See what I did there?

The Rivals

Rugby is like [love]—easy to start, difficult to stop, and impossible to forget.

-Zachary Hildebrand (mostly)

COOPER

Cooper surged toward victory. He was miles in front of the Regina Renegades’ closest player and on track to make the winning try, though their outside center was gaining on him. He willed his legs to move faster, curving away from Number 13 to avoid his advance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Alexander Bouchard coming in for the tackle. What the fuck was Alex doing so far up field? Why did he always have such a need to come for him? He deked to the left as the eight man made a dive for his legs. One of his cleats connected with Alex’s shoulder, and he almost went ass over head but steadied himself enough to land and keep running.

He launched himself over the goal line, connecting hard with the ground. Fuck yeah. Springing to his feet, his fellow Calgary Coyotes surrounded him, clapping him on the shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“Nice fucking run, bud!” Brendan yelled in his ear over the roar of the crowd.

“Someone had to win it for us,” he shrugged, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“Oh yeah, and it could only be you, right, Coop?” Mitchell pushed his shoulder.

He looked around at his celebrating teammates. “I don’t see anyone complaining.”

Todd threw his arms around him from behind and lifted him into the air. “No complaints here, man!” He flashed his middle finger at Mitch.

Mitch laughed and flipped Todd the bird right back.

“Damn good game, everyone. Shake hands and hit the showers, boys!” their captain called.

Cooper lined up with the rest of his team and shook hands with their opponents. A chorus ofgood games was heard up and down the line. Until he came to Alex, who stared him down like a bull seeking revenge on amorally corrupt matador. Granted, it was a sexy, smoldering stare, but still one full of anger.

“Good game, Bouchard,” Cooper said, sticking out his hand for a quick shake.

Alex opted to check him in the shoulder instead. “Fuck off,” he sneered.

Always such a dick. Cooper didn’t know what pissed-off entity had crawled up Alex’s ass, but whatever it was, it’d been making its home there for the past two years. Ever since Cooper had been drafted to the Coyotes and came on the scene. Jealous, probably.

He chuckled and continued down the line, being an excellent sportsman—unlike Bouchard. When he reached the end, he jogged toward the exit to their locker room and glanced back. Alex was standing in the middle of the field, dark braid draped over his shoulder. He watched his every move with his beefy arms crossed, towering above the staff milling about the field.

A shiver ran down his spine. Not from fear, no. Maybe intimidation? Alex was an intimidating man, but he didn’t think that was it entirely. Cooper grinned nice and wide—followed by a wink and wave—hoping to irritate him further. Alex flipped him off and stomped off the field in the opposite direction.

Mission accomplished.

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