Page 17 of Arrogant Rucking Player

He raised an eyebrow. “You thought getting pissed last night was smart just because you kissed a pretty girl and she agreed to go out on a date with your sorry ass?”

I groaned out loud and rolled over, glad I didn’t have the urge to puke my guts up into the grass I laidon. “What, you’re fucking psychic now too? Perfect. I can’t keep a damn secret from you or any of my family. Just come round for lunch, man. You and my aunties can all gossip like bitches together.”

“What did you just call me?”

I stared up at Leon and shut my mouth.

“Smart move, Hale. Get your ass up and shower. You have a Granny Grapple to host in less than two hours. Ice bath will be waiting for you. Recover fast, kid.”

A groan left me as I tipped my head back and starfished on the grass, letting my eyes slam shut. “Yeah, fuck. I forgot about that.”

Two and a bit hours later, it wasn’t only my thighs that stung like all get out. The grannies lined up and Coach shook his collection bucket like a pro. The man had donned his tiniest tighty-whities for the honour, and shook that too, I swore.

The biddies lined up for the privilege of dropping in their gold coins and change into his bucket and tackling me plus getting their media picture taken afterward. I braced myself as the next Blue Rinse charged forward, rocking me back onto myheels. Together we tumbled onto the thick mat that I swore had my butt permanently imprinted onto it.

I helped Blue Rinse up and knelt for the obligatory picture afterward, wincing twice over as she went in for the bum grab.

Brady waved from the stands while Nyla laughed at me behind her hand. I'd spent forty-five hellish minutes running up and down those this morning at daybreak, and they weren’t my favourite thing, but she sure as hell was. I waved back, refraining from rubbing my injured behind and deflated my ego as my phone buzzed and the most recent granny released my butt.

NYLA: Brady says you should keep falling over and that you’re doing a great job.

I shook my head and gave a mock thumbs down as I glanced up at them. Nyla laughed at me outright.

“Smile,” Leon muttered, shaking his bucket and his tush for all he was worth.

A very muchnotGranny threw a fifty into the bucket and gave me a too-white bright smile as she lined up to grapple me.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I protested, glancing up at the stands and back at Leon. Coach just shrugged, but Nyla’s smile disappeared on cue.

“She’s paid.” Leon’s professionalsuck-it-upface was back in place. “Make it count.”

I braced my burning thighs and took the fall, rolling out from under the groping arms as soon as I could free myself and smiled vaguely for the camera. But by the time I freed myself from Miss Very Much Not a Granny, the stands had thinned out and Nyla and Brady were nowhere in sight.

I fished my phone out of my pocket, hoping for a snarky message, but there was none waiting.

MASON: Are you still around? I was hoping we could do something after. I’m good with Brady around if you are.

I waited for her response, but unlike the other night at the restaurant, Nyla wasn’t in a chatty mood. I sighed and pocketed my phone, helping Leon pack up after he completed his end of season Coach’s speech, said a few words to my remaining kids and their parents and headed home.

To a family that would smother me and a full house that included everyone but the two people I wanted to spend the rest of my day with the most.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NYLA

The moment Mason took his last tackle of the charity day, my phone rang. I picked the call up without looking, and wished I hadn’t.

“Get back to the restaurant,” Stuart snapped into my ear without offering a greeting. “You need to fix these accounts now.”

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, motioning for Brady to stay where he sat and turned away, keeping my voice low. “I know there's money missing, Stuart. I just need time to work out who it is, and why.”

“Oh, that’s cute. Like you know who it isn’t.” His voice grew cold.

My blood matched his tone. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean, Nyla. You. Chasing after that football player. Climbing all over him here. It’s pathetic, just like you. If you’re that broke, just ask me for help. I’ll give you money if you need it, for fuck’s sake. Come by the restaurant and I'll give you cash. Just…tell me what I need to do with these accounts so I can fix them with the bank, and?—”

“Stuart,” I interrupted him, my voice remarkably steady for the amount of bullshit that just spewed my way. “Did you just accuse me outright of stealing from your business?”

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