Page 11 of Ignite

Not that Glenn seemed to care. He wanted to win a pissing contest with me and having an audience had just upped the ante.

“What do you mean, three strikes?” he repeated.

“It’s easy,” I dropped my voice, pretending I only wanted him and Steve to hear. “I value respect, hard work, and loyalty. Respect comes from turning up on time and not expecting the rest of us to wait for you. Hard work comes from putting in as much effort in training as you do in a game. And loyalty means you put your team before yourself. Got it?”

“And the three strikes?”

“Shit happens. If you’re late, you cop the punishment and keep the respect of the team. If you don’t, then go home. Three strikes and you’re out of the team.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re not my type, but thanks for the offer.” I didn’t need to look to hear the giggles from where the women had been standing. “Laps or strike?”

Steve took off to start his jog and Glenn followed. But by halfway around the first lap, Glenn was in front. I pretended not to notice Ophelia watching me as I went into the clubhouse and grabbed bags of training cones and balls.

I pretended not to notice how she rubbed at her shoulders and neck. Or how Reece wrapped her into a huge bear hug after the car had been unpacked. Or how Trey and Bailey tussled her hair as if she was their little sister.

I definitely didn’t notice how she bit down on her lip every time she looked my way. Or how my heart beat a little off-key each time I looked her way.

Tuesday night was training night, and I had a job to do. Straightening my shoulders, I called out, “Are you here to work, or dance with your women?”

Within minutes, the women were gone, and my team felt the full brunt of my training drills.

The next morning, I woke up without the alarm and jumped into a cold shower.

The icy tingles of water on sore muscles reminded me that things could be worse. Last night’s training had gone better than I’d expected. The players seemed to know their shit. They accepted me as their coach and despite having a couple of years on them, I could still hold my own on the field as one of the centers. Reece was the other center and with Trey and Bailey as playmakers, I thought we could be a solid team.

But being a team meant fitting into their town and as much as they tried to make me feel welcome, most of them had played sport and broken hearts together.

All reasons why I was getting ready to jog back into town and meet the guys at the gym. They worked out most mornings on top of training twice a week.

I didn’t understand it, but if that’s what it took to break into a new town, I could handle whatever they threw at me.

“Gonna come to the RFS meeting tomorrow night?” Reece asked, wiping down the bench two hours later. “We need all the bodies we can get before the next season hits.”

“I thought you needed my body on the field.”

“On the field and in the field. Haven’t you looked around? The country is waiting to explode.”

“Which is why you need people who know what they’re doing. I’m a footballer, not a hero.” I tried brushing away his words with a smile. “I’ll leave the hero shit to guys like you.”

“The town relies on us for winter entertainment on the football field, for sure,” Reece agreed. “But they also rely on us to keep them alive and safe during summer. Look, man, if you want to fit into the town, you need to sign up.”

“I need to get my ute fixed.” I refused to meet his eyes, knowing it was a stupid excuse. The alternative would be to tell him I’d rather swap footy for lawn bowls than join the Rural Fire Service. I’d been warned about country towns and their reliance on volunteering to make up for the lack of government services but this was the first time anyone had tried to bully me into joining one of their committees or organizations.

“What you need to do is take your ute to Rylee’s Beat. They’ll look after you.” Reece paused until I stopped setting up my weights and looked at him, “Tell them you’re the new Captain-Coach of the team and you’ll get a discount. Tell them you’ve signed up for the local RFS, and they’ll almost pay you to fix that pile of trash you call a ute.”

“Watch it, she’s my first love.” I took a playful swing, and was easily blocked by Reece. Just two alphas working out whether we could both play nicely on the same team. He wanted me to do something and he’d find out I could be a stubborn ass.

“Just because you’re loyal to her doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to be treated right.”

“Are we still talking about my ute?”

“Seriously, mate. If you want in with the town and the ladies, you need to join the RFS.” Reece’s tone remained light, but his eyes narrowed, telling me he took this RFS shit personally. Too fucking bad. His priorities were not my problem.

“Look,” I said, getting equally frustrated. “I’ll shout drinks at the pub, and rescue kittens from trees. Just don’t ask me to don the yellow uniform and hold a bloody hose.”

“Pole bunnies love a man in uniform.”

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