Page 80 of Playing Rucking Hard

“So, you had a pre-existing relationship?” Hunt confirms, and I hear him tapping away at a keyboard. “That’s good.”

“The club encouraged or forced me to beAustralia’s Favorite Bachelor. After seeing me go on fake dates became too much for my secret girlfriend, I sought advice from Mackenzie Badley, who is the Mavericks’ PR, to see how I could be encouraged to fake date someone I want to date. I didn’t say Emma’s name. I didn’t say she was a cheerleader.”

“So, you were taking steps to bring light to the relationship in a way that would be acceptable to the Club.” Hunt is still tapping away while he speaks.

“Yes.”

“I might be able to work with that.”

“Look, you can talk to Kenzie, but she is not to be sacrificed. She’s a good person and just doing her job.” Just in case he didn’t hear me the first time, I repeat, “They fired Emma because of my agent. He acted without my authority.”

“Again, that’s good. I’ve had one conversation with the COO, Benz, and he’s looking for a way they can walk back the termination.”

“So, they don’t want to fire Emma?” I repeat, watching Emma’s smile become real.

“No. The non-fraternization clause is there to protect the club, but if everything is consensual, then they won’t have a problem with it.”

“After you issue formal termination to Warner, wanna be my agent? Because either I’m leaving the Mavericks by the end of the day, or they are offering me a new contract that gives me the money I want and allows me to love the woman I want.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Hunt’s smile comes through the phone. “Let’s have some fucking fun and protect your girl.”

Chapter 30

Burn The World Down Part 2

Dylan

As soon as I hear the click and silence, I toss my phone onto the table and drag my hands down my face. Have I done the right thing? Have I done enough? Should I have called Cooper before Kenzie? Should I have fired my agent months ago? Should I have never agreed to beAustralia’s Favorite Bachelor? Should I have pushed for Emma to be my fake date until the Mavericks realized we were the perfect couple to become theface of the club? No. Emma wasn’t ready for us to take the risk, before. But now? What have we got to lose?

“Em?” I ask, dropping to my knees in front of her. “Talk to me, baby. You heard my side of the calls. What else can I do for you … for us?”

“Dylan.” Her voice is small and broken. “You didn’t have to do that. I’ll find another job.”

I lift her hand, but instead of kissing her fingertips, I squeeze her hand. See—I can be comforting one minute and sinking in balls deep the next. I can be anything she needs. “Emma, oh, Emma. Haven’t you learned by now that I’ll do anything for the people I love? My only regret is not doing enough, early enough. I should have pushed Kenzie. I should have done whatever it took for you to trust me enough to take a leap of faith.” I go through my mental list of what I have done today and the rationale for each until she’s smiling.

“Enough, enough.” Emma pulls me up until I’m on the couch, pinned my her legs over my lap. “I get it. You’re a problem solver. Is that what you’re like on the field?”

“Huh?”

“Going through options, possibilities … looking for opportunities and risks?”

“Well, yeah.” Do I tell her everything? Why the fuck not. If she’s going to be in my life, and now that we’ve been outed, there’s no reason to hide. “It’s actually what I hope to specialize in.”

“As a fullback?”

“I have a secret. Only a couple of the suits know.” Do I? Why the hell not. “Including Benz Christianson.”

“The Mavericks’ COO?” Emma sits up, and it’s the first time she looks like her normal self. “Why and how are you sharing a secret with him?”

“He’s kind of like my mentor.” Which is why Benz’s sacking of Emma cuts so deeply. If that’s what it takes to be successful in sports administration, then I’m going for the wrong post-playing career. “I started a business degree. While I want to specialize in sports administration, there is another part of me that loves the whole risk management and business continuity parts.”

“You are studying?” She starts laughing, clutching her side, and my stomach drops. What is her problem? Have I just put my career on the line for a woman who can’t see past my football-playing days? “Oh, this is too good not to share … I mean, can I tell you my secret?”

“Sure,” I say tentatively.

Instead of talking, she gets up and goes back into her bedroom, returning with a student ID card with her name on it. She places it in my hand before settling in my lap. Do I take this as a good sign? One arm wraps around, locking her in place while I examine the card in my other hand.

“I don’t understand.”

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