Page 30 of Ignite

Ethan to Rylee:You lied to me.

Rylee:About?

I could almost feel her indignation and distain. Did it make me a bad person because I liked winding her up?

Ethan:You call what you drinktea.

Rylee:What would you call it?

Ethan:Unless it has something called a camellia sinensis, it’s not tea.

Rylee:Someone has been doing his research.

Ethan:When I care about something, I want to know all about it.

She didn’t respond. Not that I expected her to.

Two weeks after my date-non-date with Rylee, we’d exchanged texts about tea—or herbal infusions—but hadn’t crossed paths. She’d gone out of her way to avoid me, and I couldn’t face seeing her without kissing her and I doubted that would happen again unless one of us changed our minds.

Spoiler alert; it wouldn’t be me.

But still, I couldn’t face another night drinking at the same two pubs, avoiding and ignoring the no longer subtle invitations to volunteer, coming from my team.

This morning’s weights session had been more of the same.

The working out had been fine. It had been the conversations when the guys were in between sets and afterward that had rankled.

If my players didn’t want to talk about preparations for the bushfire season, then they wanted to talk cars—in particular about the Mazda RX7 that Trey had used his house deposit to buy, even though it needed a paint job. The question wasn’t who’d do the job—Rylee’s Beat was the standout fav—but how long would it take Trey to build up the courage and get a quote.

Which, of course, turned to the whole, how’s your utility truck coming along, from Reece. I had to explain that their favorite panel beater-slash-spray-painter-slash-amateur mechanic when you couldn’t afford a real one—was trying to get me a minimum viable product before focusing on their RFS trucks.

Stupid mistake. Everyone had stopped pretending to work out, just to share their stories about how Rylee had saved the day by coming to the rescue of a broken-down truck that only needed her tender loving care to get back into the field and save lives.

“Don’t worry, Rylee knows what to do with her hands,” Korbin said, and I could see why he had no problems attracting the women. He was the sort of guy who could be casual but wasn’t. He’d walk into the gym and become the center of attention leaning against a wall. Yeah, he was reasonably good-looking, if you liked the surfer-dude crossed with footballer body. But it was his calm assurance, confidence with only a hint of arrogance that drew attention. No wonder he was Reece’s 2IC in the fire unit. And another reason I wouldn’t think about joining up.

How could I be respected as Captain-Coach on the field if I was a novice in the field?

No. I’d made the decision for logical and emotional reasons.

But if I could keep the topics to rugby and my ute, I could stay on safe ground.

“Her father taught her well,” Trey added. “She looks after the surf boats when we can’t afford a specialist mechanic.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, she’s looking after my baby. Hope it doesn’t take much longer.” Then, in an act of self-preservation, so they couldn’t drag me down the RFS topic again, I quickly changed the topic. Beer, babes, and bushfires. It was as if my new team only had three topics outside all codes of football and cars.

They’d accepted me as a friend, and there were willing women in town eager to spice up my Saturday, but I wanted a night away from prying eyes and Monday morning regret.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Reece asked.

“Nah, bro.” I kept my tone light. I wasn’t escaping the confines and expectations of my new home; I was just getting away for the weekend. “I decided to hire a car and get away for a few days. Might as well see the sights before you bastards keep me busy during the season.”

“Good camping spots, up in the mountains. Best time of year to go there,” Bailey chimed in. “We’ll probably head up in a couple of weeks and check the fire trails.”

“I’m more a sheets and comfy pillow guy myself.”

“That makes two of us,” Korbin said, slapping my back. “Although swap the comfy pillow for a comfy woman or two, and I don’t need sheets.”

“Asshole.”

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