Page 26 of Bad Ruck

"I remember having your youthful enthusiasm," he said. "I still have the enthusiasm, but it's not so youthful anymore." He chuckled.

I scoffed gently. "You're not that old. You can keep up with everything as well as I can."

"Maybe not quite as well," he said. "I've learnt how to pace myself in a way that looks like I'm keeping up. Don't look too closely, or you'll see the truth." He winked at me.

"I've been watching very closely and you're keeping up just fine," I told him. "You will be for lots more years to come." At least, I hoped that was the case.

As far as I knew, he was one of the few truly innocent people around me. Either I was mistaken, or he really was oblivious to the real nature of Dusk Bay, and risked getting caught in the firing line by being around the rest of us.

I wasn't joking when I said I watched him closely. It wasn't just professional interest and the desire to learn, it was concern for his safety. Ruthless people didn't give a shit who they stepped on to get where they wanted to go. If he stood in their way, he'd be dead.

"Maybe," he said. "I'll be retiring in a couple of years. Then I won't need to worry about keeping up with anyone but my wife. Trust me, she's enough of a handful when she wants to be." He made a face, but his eyes were still smiling, the laugh lines around them crinkling.

"I'm sure she'd say the same about you," I teased.

He chuckled. "Without doubt." He glanced past me out the window as the plane taxied towards the runway. "It doesn't matter how many times I do it, sitting on a plane while it takes off never gets old. Of course, by the time we get there, I'm glad to feel it land too. Travelling with the Wallabies is even more exhausting than this. That's when you realise they're right when they say Australia is far away. Especially when travelling to the UK."

"I'll bet," I replied. "It must be a challenge to keep a team of bored footy players in line during a long haul flight." The national rugby team would be a handful at times, like any group of professional athletes.

"When the alcohol starts flowing, it is," Doctor Stuart agreed. "Manners tend to go out the window. More than once I've seen them streak naked through the middle of an aircraft. The flightcrew was not impressed. Okay, some of them were, but others not so much."

I grinned, but hoped none of my guys would do that. If I had to guess which one of them would, my money would be on Frost. He was the most likely to let himself go, and get into trouble midair. Especially if someone dared him or made him a wager.

"I don't think Coach Stanley would be too happy about that either," I said. I rested my elbow on the armrest and watched the ground fall away underneath us.

"Probably not," Doctor Stuart agreed. "They'd issue some hefty fines for misbehaviour, especially for what they do while intoxicated. Nothing the boys couldn't handle, I suppose, given their salaries. Although, if people didn’t record everything on their phones for posterity, the players might not remember having done it. Nowadays, the team drinking on aircraft is frowned upon, so they tend to be better behaved. Or if they're not, at least they can watch it back afterwards." He chuckled to himself.

I glanced forward between the seats, to the front of the plane where the guys sat. Today, it seemed less likely that Storm and Atlas would get into a fist fight midair. That would be worse than them running naked through the plane. Much worse, if I was honest.

It wouldn't bother me if the whole team walked around naked. They'd already been half-naked, stripping off their suits and changing into T-shirts and track pants. I don't mind admitting I was happy to watch them do it. I had a keen appreciation for the naked, muscular, male form. That was another perk of this job.

"You must have seen all sorts of interesting things over the years," I said.

"Two hundred percent," he agreed. "Everything from Tabasco sauce in water bottles, to tomato sauce packets hiddenin boots. I've seen glitter come out of places it shouldn't have been in the first place. I'm still not sure how it got there." He made a face. "I've seen teams celebrate their wins when it looked like they were going to lose badly. And I've seen them drown their sorrows when the game didn't go their way."

He sighed softly. "I've seen the most harmless-looking tackle lead to career ending injuries. I've seen grown men sob when they realised they'd never play football again. And I've seen the young rookies come through, terrified they'd let themselves and the team down, but excited to be given the chance. Their first game out there on the field is always memorable. You know what they say, you never forget your first time."

I didn't think that was intended to be a football reference, but I nodded anyway.

"That's why I wanted to do this. To help prevent career-ending injuries and to be here for the highs and lows. It's one thing to sit in the crowd and watch, but it's another to be a part of it. To know you're making a difference in people's lives. Inspiring the next generation and all that."

He smiled softly. "Look at us getting all sentimental. It's true though. The ups and downs, the ins and outs, that's what we live for. Every single person on this aircraft is here for the same reason. For the team and the fans. Because this is what we love more than anything. And some of us get paid well to do it." He smirked in the direction of the players in front of us.

"Considering they put their bodies on the line every time they get out of bed, they deserve to be paid well," I said.

Every game could be their last. The money they made might have to keep them for the rest of their lives. If they had the sense to save it, and not spend it all on fuck knows what. The same could be said for anyone though, not just professional athletes.

"Otherwise they might not get out of bed," he said jokingly.

"It's a good incentive," I said.

I knew how much hard work went into a job that required a lot of physical effort, and I was paid well for it too. Dancing in heels was even more athletic than playing football. In some ways, I missed it. Not so much the stilettos. Those I didn't miss even slightly. My feet were happy in lower heels, thank you very much. The rest of it though, I loved it on most nights. I was strong, fit and powerful. There were worse ways to put myself through university.

Doctor Stuart flipped open his tray table and placed his laptop onto it. "This is a good opportunity to get some work done."

"Good idea." I got out my own laptop and opened it. "How do you think the guys will go tomorrow night? They were training well this morning."

"They were," he agreed. "That's the first time I've seen Storm Keller and Atlas Underwood communicate with each other. If they play like that, they'll smash the opposition. It's about time they sorted themselves out." He glanced over at me. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

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