Page 31 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
There's a moment of silent understanding between us, a shared language of unspoken worries and quiet support. I can see the shadows under her eyes, the slight tremble in her fingers as she reaches for a mug.
"How about we grab a quiet corner?" I suggest, nodding towards the cozy nook by the window. "I've got a feeling we both could use a chat."
Liv's eyes soften. "You read my mind, Iceman. Give me two minutes, okay?"
As she bustles around, preparing our usual orders, I settle into the corner booth. The late afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the cafe's weathered wooden tables and mismatched chairs. It's so quintessentially Liv – a perfect blend of comfort and charm.
She joins me moments later, sliding a steaming flat white across the table before cupping her own mug of chamomile tea.
"Alright, rugbyman," she says, her voice gentle. "Spill. What's going on in that handsome head of yours?"
I take a sip of coffee, buying time. "Training's been... rough. Coach thinks I'm losing my edge."
Liv's brow furrows. "And what do you think?"
"I think..." I pause, surprised by the lump forming in my throat. "I think maybe he's right. I'm not bouncing back like I used to. And the team, they're starting to look at me differently. Like I'm... fragile."
Liv reaches across the table, her warm hand covering mine. "Oh, Elliott. You're anything but fragile. You're the strongest person I know."
I manage a weak smile. "Says the woman who built this place from scratch."
She laughs, but it's tinged with something sadder. "Yeah, well... about that. I got a review today. Not exactly five stars, if you know what I mean."
My protective instincts flare. "What? Who would dare?—"
"It doesn't matter who," she interrupts, her voice wavering slightly. "What matters is... it made me question everything. Am I good enough? Is this place good enough?"
I squeeze her hand. "Liv, this cafe is your heart and soul. One bad review doesn't change that."
She nods, but I can see the doubt lingering in her eyes. "I know, I know. It's just... My family sacrificed so much for me to do this. What if I'm letting them down?"
"Hey," I say, leaning in closer. "You remember what you told me after that match in Christchurch? When I thought I'd blown our chance at the finals?"
A small smile tugs at her lips. "That you're more than just one game?"
I nod. "Exactly. And you, Liv Garner, are more than just one review. You're the heart of Ponsonby, the queen of tiramisu, and the woman who can make even a battered rugby player feel like he's home."
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but her smile is genuine now. "Thank you, Elliott. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably have a lot more pastries left at the end of the day," I tease, earning a playful swat on the arm.
As we sit there, sharing our fears and drawing strength from each other, I realize something. We might both be facing our own battles, but together, we're an unbeatable team.
I linger at the counter, watching Liv as she ties her apron with a flourish. Her eyes sparkle with renewed determination, and I smile.
"You're plotting something delicious, aren't you?" I ask, leaning in conspiratorially.
Liv grins, a dusting of flour already on her cheek. "Oh, you bet your rugby shorts I am. That bolognese pie isn't going to bake itself into legend."
She bustles into the kitchen, and I follow, drawn by her energy. The aroma of herbs and simmering sauce envelops me as Liv attacks a mound of dough with gusto.
"Take that, you naysayers," she mutters, kneading with fierce concentration. "I'll show you what real Italian passion tastes like."
I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe. "Should I be jealous of this pie?"
Liv looks up, her smile radiant. "Only if you can't handle a little competition, Iceman."
As I watch her work, I feel a surge of admiration. This is Liv in her element – creating, persevering, transforming setbacks into fuel for her fire. It's inspiring, and suddenly, I can't wait to channel this same energy into my own challenges.
