Page 2 of Playing Rucking Hard

My dark hair falls to the side as I try to hide my blush. “So, I can keep you around to stop me from falling over, but what would a little country girl like me have that you could want?” I ask, feigning indifference.

“Hmm,” he mocks thought. “Can you teach me another language?” he asks with mock seriousness.

“Other than the language of love?” I quip.Who am I? And why am I trying to flirt with a hot guy who could have anyone?

“Are you a mistress of love?” He steps closer, taking my elbow and turning me until he’s using his body to protect me from the crowd. “Or a professor? I mean, if I’m gonna learn, I want to learn from the best.” He waves to the barman and instructs him to give me another of what I lost.

“Can I have water instead?” I ask, needing to keep my wits about me. I mean, tomorrow is a huge day, and the last thing I need is a hangover.

“Bottled water, and open it in front of the lady,” my stranger says, and I want to do a little cartwheel because I didn’t have to ask.

“Well, actually, I was about to say if you’re looking for an expert, you’ve come to the wrong place,” I say. “I’m new to town, and …”

“Business or pleasure?”

“I start a new job tomorrow.” It’s impossible to keep the excitement out of my voice. Seriously, I’m almost bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

“So, tonight’s like your last night of freedom before you’re working for the man?”

“How …” I shake my head. “That’s exactly what tonight is. My last night of freedom.” Not that I can admit to what my job is. The team will announce each of us individually in a stage-managed production with the team. Until then, each time I want to scream it to the world, I remember my contract and all the reasons they can terminate me.

Fraternization with players.

Health, weight, and fitness.

Bringing the team into disrepute.

The list goes on, but those are enough to scare me into silence.

“Okay, are you in healthcare?” He asks, and I smile while shaking my head. “Corporate? Entertainment?”

“How about tonight is a night without details,” I say. “I mean, what would my new job tell you about me that you can’t find out by talking? What would your job say about you that I can’t find out by …” I step out of my comfort zone and stroke his arm. His muscles flex and feel better than I hoped.

“What are you suggesting, Miss Next Ex?”

“Let’s pretend we’re on the sixth date and we’ve gotten to the point in our relationship where we already know the basics.”

“So, you don’t want to know why I can bench press twice my body weight?”

Oh, so help me, I don’t need more reasons to obsess over his arm porn. “No. But I want to know why you would want to.”

“Ooh, deep.”

We gradually move away from the bar and to the side while talking about music. We agree live bands have a different kind of atmosphere, but a great DJ brings the energy. Somehow, it feels natural and easy, as if we’ve known each other for more than six dates. His smile disarms me, and even when other women try getting his attention, it never wavers from me. He is one hundred percent present. Most men will never understand how unwavering attention can make a plain man attractive, and a hot man irresistible.

He flashes money at club security, and we are instantly escorted to a table in the corner, away from the crowd.

“So, Miss Next Ex, wanna dance with me before you break my heart?” He bats his eyelashes as if he doesn’t know most women would kill for that length.

“Hmm,” I pretend to think, “what if it spoils the illusion?”

“Of?”

“You being perfect. I mean, there’s nothing so lame as a white man thinking he can dance.”

“You wound me. You challenge me.” He takes my hand and starts leading me to the floor. “And I’m going to spend the rest of the night making you regret those words.”

Oh, the man can move. We start apart, but when the crowd presses us together, I flush with heat that has nothing to do with the room temperature. He has excellent game. I mean, he exudes a masculine grace I can’t explain—the way he moves, keeping me safe from the crush, and blocking women who are still trying to push between us. Then, there’s his height. He’s at least a head taller than me, and I tower over most women. I feel petite and safe with him. It’s as if just being with him makes the chaos of my life disappear—at least for a night.

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