Page 41 of Blindsided By You

Me:Do what?

Rachel:Hit on Jen.

How the hell does she know? Surely Jenna hasn’t told her. Not after we agreed to keep this quiet. I decide to play dumb.

Me:????

Rachel:I saw you. On telly. In the crowd. Just now watching the replay.

Me:You didn’t watch the game live? Where’s your patriotic spirit?

Rachel:Pierre had a company function. Had to go.

Rachel:Damn it Geordie, you can’t change the subject.

She’s already angry, so I poke the bear with a stick just a little more.

Me:But I just did.

Rachel:Tell me you didn’t. Please. Not with Jen.

I don’t answer. This is already getting messy. I don’t want to lie, but I’m damned if I’m going to let my sister, or Robbie Sharpe, scare me off from the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So lying might become necessary.

I bury my phone back in my pocket, ignoring the two texts that come in. I can almost feel Rachel’s seething anger in the vibrations, as if it’s strong enough to remotely take control of my phone, even though she’s hundreds of miles away in London.

Out beyond Stirling, the bus makes a stop at a cafe. I’m desperate to get something solid in my slightly queasy stomach, but I’m even more determined to grab a few minutes with Jenna. I spot her ahead of me in line without her grumpy chaperone.

I jump the queue and sidle in behind her, trying to look inconspicuous but failing if the looks from some of my teammates are anything to go by. So much for keeping this a secret. I pray Jenna doesn’t notice. It wouldn’t be great for our future if she thinks I’ve been blabbing about her like some conquest.

Nathan’s face splits in a wide grin, showing all his perfect white teeth. He angles his head towards Connor, standing behind him, who mutters something in his ear. Our captain’s eyes fix on me and one side of his mouth tips up in a knowing smirk. Fuck, that’s all I need. My confidence at keeping Jenna and me off Razor’s radar doesn’t extend to these two. I’m screwed if they don’t keep their mouths shut.

First chance I get, I’m going to remind them it’s not only me with something to lose by exposure. The consequences for the team would be disastrous. It may sound cocky, but they’d have a hard job replacing my talents on the field if Razor gives me the heave-ho.

“Hey, there. You OK?”

I try to keep my voice casual, although it comes out a little high-pitched and there’s a nervous tremor. I’m so close I can smell a heady perfume, a tropical scent overlaid with a faint trace of spice, as I lean into her ear—her shampoo, perhaps? It’s intoxicating.

“Yeah, good. A little tired. No surprises there after last night.” Her voice is low, like we’re conspiring to commit a crime. She tilts her chin downwards and a seductive smile slides across her face. “You?”

“Yeah, same. Sleep is highly overrated, though. Better things you can do with your time.”

She giggles, and it’s so cute. This incredibly capable and normally composed, thirty-something woman reduced to a giggling girl in my presence and a knot of pleasure tightens in my chest. She might not find my next words so funny, but I need to let her know. It’s her choice how we handle it—confirm, deny or no comment—after all, she’s the PR queen.

“Hey, I think Rachel’s onto us. Did she text you?”

She turns to face me, dark brows knotted in a frown.

“No. How could she know anything? What did she say?” Her voice is low.

“Reckons she saw us on the telly. At the game. Asked if I’d hit on you. And implied she’d rip my balls off if I had. Don’t ask me what made her come to that conclusion just from a glimpse of us in the crowd.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. Yet. What do you think?”

“Yeah, perhaps that’s best. Say nothing. Wait and see if she tackles me about it.”

A grunt from behind us and Razor appears, fixing me with a glare. I study the pies in the cabinet, making a show of leaning in to investigate the little labels, humming to myself as if the decision between the steak and ale or chicken and mushroom is the only thing on my mind, while Jenna herds her father towards the till. It will be our last words of the day. Except for a text as I’m sliding into the seat behind her, settling in for the last leg of the journey.

---