Page 27 of Playing Rucking Hard

And that scares the hell out of me.

Was it that good because it was Emma?Yes.And that’s the real problem. This is the year to focus on my career, study my ass off without anyone being the wiser, and do what it takes to get Little Squid away from Fucking Fleski. I need to prove to any number of social workers and the court that I’ll provide Squid a safe and stable home environment.

What would Emma say to having a twelve-year-old boy live with us?Now there’s a challenge and a half. Who will turn this house into a home first? The woman too afraid to date me, or my brother who our father considers his verbal punching bag and meal ticket?

Four am and I’m still staring at the ceiling. Sleep is overrated anyway.

I’ve been lying here for hours, working through a solution—if Emma wants to take the risk with me.

The no-fraternization rule is ironclad. Players don’t date cheerleaders. End of story. But what about old friends?

We met before we knew we were on opposite sides of the Southern Mavericks’ rulebook. That’s a loophole I can live with. If anyone asks, I’ll say we’re reconnecting.

Then, when Warner and Janice are tired of feeding me influences and models to fake date, I’ll suggest that a friends-to-lovers love story would do wonders for the team and my reputation.

With a little luck, my Plan B is now Plan Z—the last plan Emma and I will need.

As soon as training ends, I head over to the Mavericks’ bunker and Kenzie’s office. Like most players, I try to avoid the queen of all things PR. She’s been riding my ass to clean up my reputation, and is the first person I, unfairly, blame when the media isn’t buying my redemption arc.

Still, if I want in with the cheerleaders, and gently craft the story of Emma being an old friend or acquaintance, Kenzie’s my best shot. Cooper’s girl is tight with the cheerleaders, and she has the power to influence how the no-fraternization rule can be applied. I find her sitting on the terrace, scrolling her phone with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Morning, Kenzie,” I say, turning on the charm and handing over a paper bag. “Hope you like chocolate brownies.”

She looks up and sighs as if I am bad news’ mistress. “Who did you kill, where did you bury the body, and what do you think I can do about it?”

“Fuck, Kenz. Do you really think I’d come straight here after a killing spree? Nah, I’d be at home writing and selling my biography before another asshole can make money off me.” I wriggle the bag. “Sweeten the deal with chocolate?”

“Love your style, love the brownie, and congrats on getting Altruistic to sign on the dotted line.” Kenzie takes the bag, opens it, and the sound she makes is pornographic. “I love chocolate brownies. Do you know Cooper buys them for me for breakfast when he’s got something to apologize for?”

“You want me to apologize for landing Cole Brennan?”

“No. I’ve been trying to land Altruistic for the team since I took this job. How’d you do it?”

“Started an on-field fight to save a woman’s honor?” I deadpan.

“Really?”

“You’re not gonna hear a different story from these lips.”

“So, I’ll say again … why are you here offering me chocolate and not sweating up a gym somewhere?”

“Straight to the point. I like that.” I sit down across from her and check around to ensure we can’t be overheard. “Last night, Skye and Emma worked the room like pros. Really helped the team’s image.”

Her eyes narrow. “Flattery isn’t free. Spill.”

I grin. “Fine. I want Skye and Emma’s numbers.”

Kenzie raises an eyebrow, sipping her coffee. “Why?”

“True story, a cordless drill company was so impressed, they want to talk sponsorship with the team. I’m calling to thank them for their hard work on behalf of the players.”

It’s not a lie. The company rep did pull me aside last night to rave about the cheer squad. I suggested sponsors got photo ops with the squad, and promised I’d get Kenzie to call him.

Kenzie studies me for a moment before shrugging. “Who?”

“LyteAs. They are trying to break into the home reno market with smaller, rechargeable batteries with an easy push-button ejection system so anyone can use their tools.”

“Look at you, learning the tradie lingo.”

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