Page 37 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
"Well, here goes nothing," I mutter, slipping on my oven mitts. They're adorned with little cartoon sheep – a gift from Elliott that never fails to make me smile, even now.
As I pull the pie from the oven, the rich aroma of bolognese fills the air. It smells heavenly, but after the earlier sabotage, I worry.
"It looks perfect, Liv," Maia reassures me, already grabbing a cloth to wipe down our workstation. "Riccardo can stuff his missing spices where the sun don't shine."
I snort, setting the pie down to cool. "Maia! What would your nonna say?"
"She'd say 'Brava!' and then teach me how to curse in proper Sicilian." Maia grins, tossing me a damp cloth.
I laugh, my resolve strengthening. Whatever happens next, I know I've given it my all. Just like Elliott always does.
A quarter hour later, the judges glide toward my station, their faces as blank as freshly rolled pastry. My heart does a tap dance that would put Fred Astaire to shame.
"Ms. Garner," the head judge intones, her voice as crisp as a perfectly baked crust. "Your bolognese pie, if you please."
I present my creation with shaking hands. "Enjoy," I murmur, my nonna's words slipping out unbidden.
The judge takes a bite, and I hold my breath. His face remains impassive, and my stomach drops. But then—was that a twitch at the corner of his mouth?
ELLIOTT
The locker room echoes with pre-game chatter, but it's all white noise to me as I focus on lacing up my boots. Each pull of the laces is deliberate, a ritual that grounds me in the present moment.
"You good, Iceman?" Robbie, our scrum-half, calls out.
I give him a curt nod, not trusting my voice just yet. The truth is, I'm far from good. My knee throbs with a dull ache, a constant reminder of the injury that nearly ended my career last season.
As I finish with my boots, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The familiar scent of liniment and sweaty gear fills my nostrils, centering me. I can do this. I have to do this.
"Don't push yourself too hard out there, mate," Coach's voice cuts through my thoughts. "We need you for the long haul."
I look up, meeting his concerned gaze. "I won't let the team down, Coach," I assure him, my voice steadier than I feel.
As the rest of the team files out towards the field, I linger for a moment. My hand unconsciously reaches for my phone, thumb hovering over Liv's name in my contacts. A part of me wants to hear her voice, to draw strength from her unwavering belief in me.
But no. I can't distract her from her own competition. Instead, I pull up the last photo she sent me—a steaming cup ofcoffee next to a delicate pastry, the early morning light of her Ponsonby cafe softening the edges. It's a slice of calm amidst the storm of my pre-game jitters.
"You've got this, Elliott," I mutter to myself, channeling my inner Liv. "Just like kicking stones into the river back home. One play at a time."
With one last deep breath, I tuck my phone away and stand. The roar of the crowd filters through the tunnel, calling me forward. It's time to be the Iceman they all expect me to be.
As I join my teammates, I wonder if Liv's feeling the same mix of excitement and terror. Whatever happens out there on the field or in her kitchen, I know we're in this together—even when we're apart.
The whistle pierces the air, and suddenly, the world explodes into motion. Bodies collide with bone-jarring force, the thud of impact mixing with the thunderous roar of the crowd.
I dart forward, my eyes locked on the ball as it arcs through the air. My legs pump harder, muscles straining as I weave between opposing players.
"Snow! On your left!" comes a shout from one of my teammates.
I pivot, narrowly avoiding a tackle that would've sent me sprawling. The ball slams into my chest, and for a split second, time seems to slow. I can see every blade of grass, feel every bead of sweat on my brow.
This is what I live for.
"Go, go, go!" I yell, tucking the ball under my arm and sprinting towards the try line.
The crowd's cheers swell, becoming a physical force that propels me forward. My lungs burn, and my recently healed knee twinges with each step, but I push through it all.
In my mind, I see Liv's face, her eyes sparkling with that mix of determination and mischief I love so much. I wonder if she'sfacing her own challenges right now, fighting through with that stubborn grace of hers.
