Page 33 of Scrum Heat

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes.”

*

Once Evie’s has left, I return to my desk, flip to a fresh page in my notebook, and start drafting the content diary.The season’s full fixture list is pinned up on my wall, and I highlight all the home and away games, then add repeating blocks for press content, training days, rest days, and snack days (those are unofficial, but morale matters).

It all looks… weirdly manageable.

I log into the club’s socials and start loading posts into the scheduler. Thumbnails. Captions. Tags. One rogue TikTok of Theo doing fake stretching with suspicious intent.

My first actual week on the job, my first real task ticked off and completed, and I’m still standing. Still clothed. Still not banned from the clubhouse.

The schedule locks into place, and suddenly, so do I.

A job. A routine. A team. A town that’s too nosy for its own good but already memorizing how I take my coffee. And, dare I think it…a pack.

Somehow, I’ve gone from passing out in front of an alpha on the day of my interview to managing the club’s content calendar and receiving small-town plums from women named Maureen.

I didn’t plan any of this. But for the first time in months, maybe years, I think I might be exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Chapter Ten

Frankie

Iwake up on Friday morning before seven a.m., which feels like a personal betrayal.

I don’t know if it’s habit, instinct, or the fact that I accidentally fell asleep with the scent of three alphas and one stress-induced spreadsheet open on my phone, but I’m wired, awake, and fully dressed before the sun’s even doing its job.

And the house is blissfully silent.

I head downstairs to stare into the fridge, but when I step into the kitchen, Finn’s already there. His floppy blond hair’s a little messy, a white tee slung over his shoulder, barefoot, sleepy-eyed, and unfairly wholesome.

He glances up, surprised.

“Hey. You’re up early.”

I gesture vaguely at my own body. “Apparently I’ve evolved into one of those terrifying morning people who drink water and read productivity blogs.”

He chuckles. “I was just about to make eggs. Want some?”

The wordsureis on the tip of my tongue, but then I raise an eyebrow.

“Or… hear me out… what if we went to that diner I keep hearing about? You know, the one where the chairs stick and the omelets have reputations?”

“Hazel’s?” Finn grins. “It’sperfect. No one’s ever gotten food poisoning, and the pancakes are basically legally binding.”

I glance toward the hall. “The others?”

“Dead to the world,” he says, already grabbing his keys. “No training until lunch. Rory put it on the calendar. Capital letters.”

“And you’re just…up?”

“I like mornings, and I like pancakes,” he shrugs, like he doesn’t know how to explain it. “And I thinkyoucould use a proper breakfast.”

I eye him. “Are you flirting with me, or trying to make sure I don’t skip meals?”

“Can’t it be both?”

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