Page 21 of Arrogant Rucking Player

“No, I mean me. Drink?” She smiled shyly at me, lacing our fingers together in a knot I wasn’t sure I’d be able to undo if I had to, and wasn’t sure I wanted to break anyway.

The date went smoothly from there. A guy with a guitar introduced himself on the stage by the bar and started playing. I forgot his name as I listened to Nyla talk about herself and Brady, tucking away each tiny fragment of information she offered, stilted at first then gaining confidence when I never shot her down like I suspected the assholic ex must have done whenever she opened her mouth.

By the time the last morsel of our shared chocolate mousse and fancy cream that I couldn't pronounce, but she did, was gone, she’d let me slide my arm across her shoulders, and snuggled into my side. Hansen had opened the doors half an hour before and turned the sound up on the guitarist who played slightly fast rock covers. I pressed my lips to the top of her head and inhaled.

“Frangipanis.”

“What?” Nyla looked up at me dozily. “I think I've been food coma-ed.”

“You smell like frangipanis.” I inhaled a long, slow breath again.Smells like home.“Maybe marshmallows or something sweet.”

She giggled, batting at me. “I think you’re analysing my shampoo. Or my moisturiser. Or something.”

“I like it.”

“Um, good?” She smiled up at me, finishing the sparkling lime water she’d requested earlier, refusing alcohol.

I got the impression Stuart was responsible for that, too, and promised myself that if we ever crossed paths again, there would be words. I still wasn’t sure what happened, exactly, that day she quit the restaurant, and I didn’t want to push her, but it had to be bad from the way rebellion rolled from her in waves when she talked about it earlier. Which also meant she was jobless. I turned that thought over in my head, and hated that I’d brought up money earlier. One of my aunts reached out and distance slapped me for my thoughtlessness.

Pushing the thought to the back of my mind for now, I tangled my fingers in her hair and tuggedgently. “How long have you got the babysitter for, gorgeous?”

A small tremor rippled through her fine frame. “All night?”

She made it a question, but there wasn’t one in her jet gaze when her eyes locked on mine.

“Good.” I leaned down and pressed my lip to her temple. “Can I drive you home? Your car is safe here overnight. Hansen lives above the bar. And his Lexus is parked right below the back door.”

She nodded, her knotted fingers squeezing mine as that fine full-body tremor repeated itself. Jenna appeared on cue with the bill. I signed for it before Nyla could offer to pay. She huffed at me, but didn’t fight when I tipped her chin up and pressed my lips lightly to hers in a brief kiss that tested my control.

“Let me have this, okay? One night where I get to spoil you. Then you can go back to sassing all hell out of me after midnight.”

Her eyes sparkled at me beneath the coach lantern swaying above us in time with the music. “You promise?”

“With everything I am.” I led her between the full tables, back out the way we came, waving to Hansen over my shoulder.

He waved back. “See you at the exhibition match next week.”

I groaned. “Hell. I forgot about that.”

“Coach won’t let you. Get your beauty sleep.” He winked at Nyla. “Don’t let him push you around.”

“Never.” She broke away from me to reach up and give the giant of a man a huge hug, whispering something I couldn’t hear over the crowd's growing chatter.

I stared down at her in wonder as she bounced back alongside me. “What was that?”

She shrugged. “I told him his steaks were a thousand percent better than the Cowboy's Pitstop ones, and that there’s also a chef he needs to headhunt called Chaz who is totally underutilized there.”

I stared at her for a long moment, then laughed. “You are the sweetest damn thing, you know that?” I found her hand again. “Most people find him scary as hell.”

“I think they say that about you, too.”

I stopped, holding the back door of the pub open for her after we waved goodbye to the staff and thanked them for our meal. “Really? Me?” I was just the island kid who got a good run, a lucky streak a few years back and managed to hold onto it because of a good team, a better trainer and hard work.

Nyla huffed up at me. “You have no idea, do you? That’s who you are, Mason Hale. You’re untouchable. The kid who runs faster than anyone, who works the hardest to prove who he is. Arrives before anyone else, trains later and has some of the most unbelievable stats for the season. And you’re ‘broody looking as hell’.” She air quoted me.

From where, I had no idea.

I looked at her askance as I unlocked my truck and held the door for her while she climbed up. “All that, huh?”

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