Page 1 of Arrogant Rucking Player

CHAPTER ONE

MASON

I never thought I’d grow sick of shit hot moms hitting on me, but it happened on the first day of summer Rugby camp. While most of my teammates were enjoying their off season in the Aussie heat, I volunteered to coach local kids during the first few weeks of their Christmas holiday break in December with sweat rolling down my back from the moment I got up in the morning. Not only did playing footy keep them off the street, but I got to stay in condition as well. Because damn, could those kids run rings around me.

Two of the mums waved as I jogged past. I gave a half-hearted finger wiggle back, juggling an arm full of cones and spare balls for today’s first training circuit. A blur in red and black zipped past me at waist height, nearly knocking me on my ass.

“Whoa.” I raised a knee in time to avoid crashing into the kid who could have taken out my entire pre-Christmas training contingent on his own. “With skill like that, you should be my new winger. Take my place on the team.”

“Sorry.” The kid paused long enough to give me a single word and sent me a crazy grin. His feet were on the move before I could take my next breath.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“Brady’s late. I’m sorry, too.” A pretty woman—another mum, albeit a different sort from the perfect-in-pink ones who sat in the shade and posed like the cheerleaders they used to be a decade ago—dressed in black pants stained in several places trotted after the boy I assumed was her son. She swept wayward strands off her face. The rest of her long black hair was tied in a ponytail with a sheen that reflected the afternoon sun, the ends touching her pert butt.

“I don’t usually allow lateness.” I stopped juggling balls and tried not to perv on the woman mere moments after my vow to ward off hot mums.Fucking fail.I was as bad as the women I’d tried to avoid for the last fifteen minutes. “I know it’s the first day of a new training clinic, and all, but?—”

“It won’t happen again.” The woman spoke in a strained voice and with the harried grace of a mother used to apologising on behalf of a son who held her up getting out the door too often.

I recognised that tone, because my mother used it plenty of times on myself and my brothers back when I was a kid. Not that things like time mattered half as much as it did here compared to where I grew up, but still…

“I get it.” I shoved a tower of cones under one arm and held out a hand. “Mason Hale. My mother used to sound a lot like you when she first came to Australia. I dragged her and my brothers here with dreams of playing football. Rugby,” I added. That had been its own bone of contention. Soccer was my cousins’ love.

The faintest smile curled the woman’s lips. “Brady might appreciate that. I’ll wait for him over there later, if that’s okay,” she added, already retreating into herself. “I have to go back to work. Sometimes I’ll be able to stay, but I need to drop and run today.”

“It’s fine. We’ll stay together, and pickup is in a few hours.” I mentally kicked myself even as I offered her what I hoped was a non-threatening smile.Judgy fucker that I am.Of course the stains were from work. She probably spent hours in food prep or restaurants or worked somewhere similar. “The bleachers offer some shade in the afternoons when you can stay on days that you can. We're gonna be busy soon.” I nodded to where some of the parents had set up house. “I’ll send the kids over when we’re done later. Has Brady got a water bottle?” He’d need it in the heat.

A grimace twisted her lips. “We forgot that too. I’ll run over and get him something.” She checked her wrist where she wore her watch on the inside. Not that the thin silver piece did fuck all to hide the pale scars or the purple bruising that discoloured her skin beneath.

My jaw set.

Not him,we.I watched her pretty face for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. Not that I was alone in my observations. “No need. There’s a bubbler about. Brady can get water there. The kids use the fountain fairly often to wet down on a hot day.”

“Alright.” She pressed her hands together, watching her son run off. “He’s a bit active, and he doesn't always listen?—”

“Hey.” I called her attention back to me. “You’re good to go to work. I know we just met, but…I knew a kid just like him when I was young. He…turned out okay.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes narrowed. “You?”

I shrugged. “Hyperactive-inattentive and still strong. I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”

Some of the tension left her in the next breath. “Thank you.” She backed up a few steps.

It wasn’t until she disappeared in the direction of the parking lot and I’d located my holiday training crew for the day that I realised that I’d never caught her name.

“Hi, Mason. Why don’t you let me help you with that big bag of balls?” A single mum flashed too bright white teeth in my direction.

Three days into the training clinic, I knew less kid’s names than I liked, but plenty of the mums sprang to mind on demand. All the ones I knew to stay well away from. I thought this one belonged to a kid I wasn’t sure should be in the program that was supposed to cater for an underprivileged local socio demographic. I’d already caught myself being too judgy over Brady’s mum and so I kept my trap locked shut on that topic.

“Uh, I’m good. Thanks.” I turned to throw her a practiced smile I reserved for media that had been coached into me over the past three years, and came chest to erect nipples with a pair of protruding offerings plated up in super flimsy a bra that seemed determined to topple her breasts out of their encasing at any moment. “I’m really good.” I backpedalled a few steps to increase my safety net. “Got it all in hand.”

The mum took a step forward. “Are you sure?” Her grin widened.

I’m never volunteering for anything ever again. Not even for charity work.

No, that wasn’t true. I’d really enjoyed the first few days of working with the kids these holidays so far. Just…not so much the parents, though I'd kept an eye out for my mystery woman. Not that I’d had much luck on that front. She’d been kept busy, dropping Brady off early each morning and running back to whatever shift work she did, all in black and no branding in sight.

Not that I was stalking her…just that I got my inner stalker on. In a safe way. Was there a safe way to perv on a mum who hadn’t given me her name yet? I mean I could stalk her personal info, but that was crossing a line and… I groaned, dragging my hand over my face, and pried my eyes open.

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