Page 20 of Arrogant Rucking Player

I shrugged. “Like I said, I booked a table.”

“Uh huh.” Her eyes narrowed a little, and I swore she was about to start hissing at me. Mind, the pissed off kitten look was sexy as all fuck on her, so I wasn’t complaining.

Still grinning like a loon, I led Nyla in through the staff entrance at the back of the pub. The kitchen staff greeted us with raised hands at the food prep station. I checked over my shoulder to make sure my girl wasn’t freaking out, but she looked around the area with interest. One girl raised a hand to wave, and Nyla waved back. I huffed a laugh under my breath. Typical industry—everyone knew everyone.

I stepped out onto the main floor and found the man I searched for waiting for me behind the bar. “Hansen.”

“My man.” The giant of the Sanford Sentinels stepped out around the bar and slung one arm around my shoulders. He was the only player on theteam who matched me in height, but by far overwhelmed me in terms of bulk. “And this is…” he trailed off and let me do the honours.

“Nyla. This is my teammate and mentor, Hansen Beaucliff. He’s our forward prop. He does the heavy work in the scrums,” I explained when Nyla shook her head.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She looked around the nearly empty room, apart from a few select dinners and back to us. “Shouldn’t— shouldn’t this place be packed? There’s a line outside…” she faltered off when Hansen laughed, and looked down.

“Don’t do that,” I said softly. “You don’t have to hide here. Nyla runs a restaurant on the other side of town. Cowboy’s Pitstop.”

“Does she?” Hansen eyed her with interest.

“I used to,” Nyla said softly, raising her head with no small amount of defiance glittering in her stunning eyes. “I quit last week when my ex—my boss,” she corrected herself, “accused me of theft, then set up the staff member who did to um…” she waved a hand vaguely and turned pink.

Hansen’s eyebrows shot for the ceiling. “Sounds like a damn good reason to quit to me,” he muttered. “Yes, we have a line around the block. We close for…certain arrangements. Jenna will show you to your table.” He shot me a hard look and turned back to the bar, muttering under his breath about shit business owners who didn’t look after their staff, not keeping his voice half as low as he should have, or maybe that was the point.

A girl dressed in a long sleeved white shirt and black pressed slacks with her hair pulled back in a ponytail smiled at Nyla. “This way.”

Nyla blinked. “I expected you to talk to him.” She looked back at me.

The server, Jenna, wrinkled her nose. “I’m pretty sure he gets enough attention, don’t you?” She winked and turned around to lead us to a table set off to one corner.

Red wood planking created a semi booth that hid us from the rest of the mostly empty restaurant where Hansen had allowed just enough patrons in for this part of the night to create a cozy ambience without letting the place feel bare or empty. A mini coach lantern glowed softly above us as Nyla slid into one side. I sneaked into the L-shape beside her.

“This is really nice, Mason. Thank you. He’s mad not for letting the rest of those people in, though. Losing a ton of cash.”

“Yeah, it’ll cost me a few favours, for sure.” I snapped my mouth shut, but the words slipped out.

Nyla’s head turned as what I said sank in. “Are you shitting me?”

I winced. “No?” I sighed. “It can get hectic, with the media. Some nights it’s normal. Some nights…it’s not so normal. I wanted to take you somewhere nice without it being fussy and…this is the best place I know. Apart from my aunt's cooking, but don’t let my mother know that. She’ll skin me.”

Her nose twitched. “Okay, so you might have dug yourself out of that one. Saved by the aunt I’ll never meet. But seriously.” Nyla twisted in her seat, peeking around me at the door. “Hansen shouldn’t close up just to give us–”- she jabbed an elbow lightly at my midsection, “oryouprivacy or favours. It’s kinda sweet and weird at once.”

“He has this place because he loves it. Loves working, and always wanted a pub of his own. Not for money, Nyla. We’ve all got enough of that to keep us going for years. Some of us just love to work.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, because you ran the summer clinic for pocket change.”

“Actually, I donated it all to the Granny Challenge. It goes to a dementia secure ward becausethere was a fire in a local one. That’s why Leon and I set up the clinic in the first place. Not everything is about money, Nyla. We don’t all have the fucked up motivations like your ex.” I reached out to touch her cheek and found her skin burning.

Fuck.

“Okay.” She tipped her head away, but I couldn't leave it like that.

“I keep fucking up with you, don’t I?” I stroked my fingers across her cheek until she looked at me, and my heart fucking shattered at the pain reflected in her eyes. I didn’t need to askwho hurt youbecause I knew already. Him—and now, maybe even me. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, still stroking her cheek. “I’m gonna try not to shove what I think down your throat from now on, okay?”

She laughed and leaned into my touch. “That’s actually okay. I like that you believe insomethingthat you’re passionate about, even if your view of the world is a bit skewed. Not all of us have that sort of… Privilege.”

My lips twisted into a grin. “If I told you that I grew up on an island with less than three hundred people on it, and dinner came from my tiny backyard, including the animals I named as a kid, wouldthat change things?” I flipped open a menu before she could answer.

Nyla blinked at me. “Perspective, huh?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I could do with a bit of that.”

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