Page 27 of Filthy Ruck

I ignored Jay and Atlas and trotted out the door and onto the field.

Chapter Twelve

Chelsea

“I guess I was wrong.I got the feeling Storm would tag along.” I'd glanced around the restaurant, taking in the heavy wooden tables, high backed chairs and sparkling view over Dusk Bay. Two tables over, a couple of the Dusk Bay Demons sat with a cute redhead, pretending not to notice when she stole chips from their plates.

Near the window, a couple of members of Ice Blue Roses, the rock band, had a quiet, but heated conversation. The rumour the bass player had a falling out with the rest of the band might be true after all.

Servers bustled around, quick and efficient, but trying to be non-intrusive.

So far, I saw no sign of the big fullback.

“I think he wanted to, but he decided to leave us alone so we could eat,” Frost said.

Like he had in the stadium cafeteria the other day, he pulled out a chair and waited for me to sit.

I still gave him a look, but lowered myself into the chair and got comfortable. “How do you feel about this arrangement?”

“I like the idea of having dinner with you.” He settled into the chair beside me and handed me a menu.

I took it and resisted the urge to swat him on the arm with the leather bound wine list. “I meant the rest of it. The whole 'him thinking he owns me,' thing.” My nipples hardened and ached as the words left my lips. The increased blood flow through my whole body made my clit throb.

“Honestly, I think it's hot,” Frost said frankly. “He's always been intense and possessive of the team, but I've never seen him like that about another person. He must have it bad for you.” He looked down at his menu like he was averting his gaze.

“I'm not sure if he cares about me or just likes to boss me around,” I said. “What is he like to play with?” My choice of words was deliberate.

Frost swallowed. “I don't—” He cleared his throat. “Right, you mean rugby. He's very dedicated. Very skilled. He's one of the best fullbacks in the country, if not the world. He's one of the most driven people I ever met. When he decides he wants something, he goes after it. On the field and off.”

“I guessed that about him,” I said. “He's a lot like me in that respect. What about you? Do you go after what you want?”

He looked at me through lashes so long they should probably be illegal. “Yeah, I do. But I… I don't always get it. Not in the way I want to, anyway.”

“You don't want to play for the Smashers?” I asked.

Sometimes players had to take whatever club would have them. Even high-profile players didn't always get their way.

“I do,” he said quickly. “I’ve always wanted to play international. For Australia. The older I get, the less likely it seems. It gets harder every year; the talent I'm up against is next level.”

“There's no reason why you can't still be chosen,” I said. “You're at the peak of your fitness. I've watched you play, you're incredible. Your instincts on the field never let you down.”

He glanced back down at the menu again. “Yeah, I dunno. I feel like I'm not seen past the other guys.”

“Are we still talking about rugby?” I asked gently. I placed a hand on his firm thigh.

“Not just that,” he agreed. “But enough about me. How was your first week with the team?”

“Amazing,” I said. “Exhausting. Rewarding. I look forward to meeting the rest of the players.” So far, I'd spent more time doing paperwork than treating anyone, but that was to be expected.

He scratched the side of his head. “I hope you don't forget me when you do.”

“How could I forget you?” I moved my hand up his thigh, towards his groin. “You're the sweet one, remember?”

“My thoughts aren't sweet right now,” he warned. “If you knew what I was really like, you might run out the door.”

“And yet, a statement like that intrigues me,” I said. “I'm a big believer in people being their authentic selves.”

“I want to show you that side of me,” he said softly. “Will you let me?” He looked at me earnestly, as though half hoping I'd refuse, but desperate for me to agree.

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