Page 38 of The Hellion and the Captain
Rhys met Tommy’s gaze, his mind already racing with possibilities.
“We’ll need to focus on our defense,” he said, his voice taking on the authoritative tone he used during their team meetings. “Their forwards are quick and aggressive, but if we can shut them down early, we’ll have a better chance of controlling the game.”
Felix nodded, leaning back in his chair. “What about our offense? Any thoughts on how we can break through their lines?”
“That’s where Emmett comes in,” Rhys replied, the name feeling strange on his tongue. In his mind, he pictured Emmaline’s lithe form darting across the field, the ball seemingly an extension of her foot. “His speed and agility could be key in creating openings for the rest of the team.”
Tommy’s brows furrowed. “You think he’s ready for that kind of responsibility? He’s good, but he’s still fairly green.”
Rhys paused, considering the question. It was true that Emmaline – Emmett – was a relative newcomer, and he had hesitated to thrust her into the spotlight too soon. But he had seen the fire in her eyes, the determination that drove her to push herself harder and improve. He had no doubt she would rise to the challenge.
“He’s ready,” Rhys said firmly. “I’ve been working with him one-on-one, and he’s made remarkable progress. He has a natural instinct for the game, and he’s not afraid to take risks.”
Felix grinned, raising his glass in a toast. “To Emmett, then. May he lead us to victory!”
The others echoed the sentiment, clinking their glassestogether. Rhys joined in, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of Emmaline.
He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at that moment. Was she thinking of him, as he was of her? Did she feel the tension between them whenever they were together?
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus on the game, on the team. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by his growing feelings for Emmaline, no matter how much he might want to explore them.
And yet, as the conversation turned to other matters – the latest gossip around town, the upcoming social events – Rhys found his mind drifting back to her.
The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the way her hair gleamed in the sunlight. The fierce determination that radiated from her every pore, the passion that drove her to chase her dreams, no matter the cost.
She was unlike any woman he had ever known, and try as he might, he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts.
Perhaps it was time to face the truth – that despite his best efforts, he was falling for Emmaline Whitmore. And that terrified him more than any football match or potentially revealed disguise ever could.
He must be free of her hold on him. But how?
Chapter Thirteen
“Last training session before our first match,” Rhys said, staring Emmaline up and down. She was dressed once more in those breeches that showed off her perfectly defined bottom, the shirt hugging her curves, which were obvious, even though he knew – from first-hand experience – that her breasts were wrapped in linen beneath her shirt.
They had finished all their endurance training and had reached the end of practice when he wanted to go over a few skills, although that was one area she didn’t seem to need much help.
“I’m ready,” she said, even as he caught the glimpse of nervousness in her eyes.
“Are you truly?” he said. “For if you are not?—”
“I said I’m ready,” she insisted, that glint of steel returning to her expression. “Do not suggest otherwise.”
“Very well,” he said, kicking the ball toward her. “Prove it.”
“Prove it?”
“Yes,” he said, stretching out his arms. Despite his betterjudgment, they were back in the clearing on her family’s property. She had made the case that if they were in public, she would have to disguise herself again, which she preferred not to. “Get by me.”
“Very well,” she said smugly, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. He was a forward, not a defender. This should be easy.
She held his gaze as she started toward him with the ball at her feet, dribbling it easily. She attempted to deke around him, but he followed her body, not her feet, and he blocked her, deflecting the ball away from the net.
She stopped, arms on her hips in annoyance. “How did you know I was going that way?” she asked, but instead of anger, he could see that she was truly curious.
“I watched the motion of your hips,” he said, reaching out, a thrill rushing through him when he brushed his hands against them. “You make it obvious which way you are heading with them.”
“I do?” she said, blinking.
