Page 3 of SCRUMptious

Chapter2

L A U R EN

“What's for lunch today, chef?”Donal asked, strolling into my kitchen as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Kathleen, one of my assistants, shook her head and rolled her eyes as Donal brushed past. Having worked for Dublin Rugby for the past two seasons, she'd spent the last hour bringing me up to speed on the guys on the team and who among them I should avoid. Donal, according to her, was close to the top of the list. Apparently, Marla hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said he was a hopeless flirt. What she'd left out, however, was the fact that he was a notorious manwhore.

While disappointed to hear my forbidden object of desire was unscrupulous when it came to where he put his dick, I wasn't actually surprised to hear it. Working first for a famous model and then a celebrity chef, I'd spent enough time around young, attractive men who had more good looks than sense, and they all seemed terminally incapable of keeping it in their pants.

Boys like Donal are a dime a dozen in L.A., I reminded myself as I stole a covert glance. Such a pity, too, because he really was a fine specimen of male beauty.

While I had my hand shoved up a chicken's ass, Donal reached across my work station to grab a handful of chopped carrots and popped them in his mouth.

“Don't you have practice or something?”

“I'm injured,” came his easy reply.

I'd always assumed an injury was akin to a death sentence to a professional athlete, but Donal didn't seem too put off by his. Then again, maybe it was a brain injury. Given the way he'd completely disregarded all my previous directives to stay out of my kitchen, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he'd suffered brain damage somewhere along the way. After all, without helmets to protect their melons, rugby players were notorious for suffering from the side effects of repeated concussions.

Not that it was anything to joke about, but something about this guy got under my skin, so before I could stop myself, I asked, “Someone hit you too hard in the head? Mess up your hearing?”

Ignoring my jibe, he answered, “Nope, fecking Achilles. I'm cursed, I tell you.” Pulling out a chair and dropping onto it, he continued, “But that's okay because it means I get to hang out in here withyou.”

“Or, you know, out there.” I pointed toward thedoor.

“Nah, it smells like feet and sweaty balls that way.” He inhaled deeply and his lungs filled with air, tightening his already snug t-shirt. “It smells like heaven inhere.”

“Is that what that is?” I asked with a chuckle. “And here I thought it was just my grandma's roast chicken.”

Donal groaned and his stomach growled. “You're killing me, woman. That's my favorite meal in the entire world.”

“Is it?” I asked absentmindedly, opening the oven door and shoving a third roasting pan inside.

“Yup.” When I turned to acknowledge his statement, he'd leaned forward to rest his meaty forearms on equally meaty thighs. “I like eating other thingstoo.”

Did he just? Oh my god, he didn't—didhe?

I stared at him in amazement—and not the good kind—while his face split into a smug, shit-eating grin and a dimple indented the right side of his face. “You should see your face right now,” he said laughing.

“You're lucky I don't smack that look off yours,” I threatened, my finger pointed as I drifted away from the hot wall of ovens, conscious of not getting too close to him. “I can't believe you just said that.” I crossed my arms over my chest with ahuff.

Donal reclined in his chair, one arm flung over the back while the other rested lazily on his thigh. “Relax chef, I'm just joking.”

“You don't joke about … about … that with someone you don't knowwell.”

Donal's smile dropped and his eyes turned speculative. “You can't even say it, can you?” He raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, while I uncrossed my arms and clenched my fists at myside.

“I can say it. I simply choose not to. That's the difference between you and me. I'm an adult, while you're a child.”

All at once he surged out of his seat and stalked toward me. When he was close enough that I could smell the woodsy, intoxicating scent of his aftershave, his eyes flicked between mine, his gaze probing, while I prayed the overwhelming lust I felt whenever he was this close didn't show on my face. After several charged seconds, Donal shook his head and moved to step around me, his big body brushing up against my smaller one. Before passing, he leaned close and whispered, his Dublin accent coming through strong, “I assure you, Lauren, I am allman.”

And then he was gone, leaving me standing there with my jaw hanging open and my mind whirring. I didn't want to wonder what that amazing body of his could do, but now I couldn't stop the images from forming. Paired with what Kathleen had told me earlier, I didn't doubt the veracity of his claim, but I wasn't about to be next on his list of conquests. He might have thrown down the gauntlet, but I wasn't going to pick itup.

* * *

Leaving the kitchen,I made way toward the complex's exit and to my bus stop immediately outside its gates. It'd been a long morning and afternoon and all I wanted now was to get home to my dinky apartment, take a long shower, and put my feetup.

Unfortunately, someone had other ideas.

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