Page 8 of Ignite

I stood, my back to the wall, with a clear view of the guys who’d returned to their weights. I kept half an eye on Reece. His presence filled the room—why did they need me when he clearly knew how to take charge?

Reece shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the question. “Forget about him, we have. More importantly, we’ve got a training session down at the fields on Tuesday.”

“Training? I haven’t set up a schedule, yet.” The team’s enthusiasm had me on the back foot. I folded my arms and tried to recover from the team setting the pace, “I wanted to get the lay of the land. Thought I could get to know the guys down here, first.”

Reece and I moved over to the bench press and serious credit to the guy. He set up for one-hundred-and-twenty kilos, which I mentally converted to two-hundred-and-fifty pounds. For some reason, all my training books were US-based and I spent most of my time doing conversions between metric and imperial.

“Mate, you’re in Meringa. We start training early so we can take time off during bushfire season.”

I nodded, pretending to understand as I spotted Reece for his first set. He showed a good technique, using his chest for power and maintaining an even weight distribution across both arms. The cheeky bastard kept up an easy banter while I stifled the urge to get the hell out of this whacked town with crazy sexy, women crashing into cars. “How the fuck can a non-existent bushfire dictate football training?” I had to ask before the question did my head in.

I helped Reece with the bar, setting it back on the frame while Reece flexed and shook out his arms, readying for his next set.

“Look at where we are—surrounded by a national park, and bushland. Between drought and lack of funds for back-burning, the country’s ready to burn.”

So what? What the hell have I gotten into?

“Sounds intense,” I said, watching his arms shake towards the end of the second set. He’d been pushing himself, showing off? Good.

“Mate, one tossed cigarette and the country is ready to ignite. All the guys are part of the Meringa Rural Fire Service. I’m captain of the RFS. Korbin and Trey are my second in command.”

“Glad to see you’ve got it covered.” Again, what have I walked into?

“We could use one more,” Reece said, finishing the third set with the weights crashing into the frame. Yeah, that had hurt.

I let his comment hang while we swapped places. Lying back on the bench and preparing for my first set, I nodded to Reece to start. I preferred higher reps at a lower weight. And after yesterday’s accident, my right shoulder wouldn’t thank me tomorrow. Instead of the pain, I focused on the pros and cons for joining their stupid little club.

First, I was a footballer, a professional sportsperson. If I got injured holding a hose, I’d be unemployed and unemployable.

Second, I was a coach. People needed to see me as a leader. I’d never command respect on the field if they saw me lose my nerve in the middle of a natural disaster.

Third— and that’s when I stopped.

“Another set?” Reece asked.

“Yeah.”

My arms tingled, but I wasn’t going to show fear or pain in front of these players. I needed to alpha it up and swallow the painkillers tomorrow.

Third? I’d already learned the hard way what happened to men who put others first.

I’d promised myself I’d never be likehim.

I’d also promised the only woman I’d loved that I wouldn’t do anything stupid.

In the face of Reece’s urging to go against my instincts, I sighed. Should I sign up and fit in, or just do the job they paid me for?

Chapter 4

Everyone Has An Opinion

“Whenitcomestofootball in Australia, what you call it depends on what code you follow. Rugby is rugby union, but league is rugby league. If you like aerial ping pong, you must be talking about AFL and some folks even remember that it stands for Australian Football League. As for soccer, that’s the most confusing code of all. Some folks call the round ball game soccer, but if you’re a soccer tragic, you’ll call it football. What you call it is all a matter of opinion and as my mama used to say, opinions are like ex-lovers—most folks have at least two. In related news, the Meringa Hawks’ new Captain-Coach crashed into town and has already put our boys hard at work …”

Rylee

“Have you met the new guy yet?” Felicity hadn’t bothered knocking on my front door since we were seven. These days, she usually came with a bottle of wine or takeaway instead of homework to swap. Since I’d stayed at my workshop until after midnight, no one had been able to find me yesterday.

Tonight, Flick’s visit had been expected but I was emotionally prepared.

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