I hung up, set the phone down and turned to Giselle. “So Mumma North is going crazy?”
“Sounds like it. You don’t mind going to their place for dinner, do you? I mean, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine. You know I love your parents. Go get changed and we’ll go save your Dad.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d stopped at a bottle shop to grab a bottle of bubbles; Mum’s favourite, and we were on our way. Pulling into the driveway of my parent’s house, the place I grew up, a tsunami of nostalgia washed over me. I should come home more often. Even just sitting in the driveway, staring up at the front veranda, the veranda where I spent hours playing with my Barbies and drawing chalk hopscotch, made me emotional.
“We going in or you going to sit here and get all teary on me?” Giselle questioned, bringing me out of my stupor.
“Let’s go.”
I didn’t bother to knock. Instead, I pushed open the door and stepped inside only to be assaulted by the scent of tomatoes and garlic.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked as I breezed into the kitchen to see Dad wearing Mum’s pink spotted apron, wielding a wooden spoon, while Mum sat at the counter sipping wine and offering what I assumed she thought was constructive criticism. I don’t think Dad was appreciating her suggestions.
“Sweetheart! You’re here!” Dad said animatedly, setting down the spoon and hugging me so tight he almost cracked a rib.
As I patted his back, Dad eased his grip but didn’t let go. With his arm around my shoulder, he held me close, pressing a kiss on my forehead. When I went to move away, he tightened his grip.
“How you feeling, Mrs North?” Giselle asked, sliding onto the stool beside Mum.
“I’m so over this,” Mum admitted, lifting up her arm which was weighted down by her cast.
“How long have you got it on?”
“Too long,” she grumbled miserably.
“Tasha sweetheart, can you set the table please? Dinner’s nearly ready.”
Grabbing napkins and silverware, I escaped into the dining room, leaving Giselle to listen to Mum bitch and moan about how Dad hung the washing out wrong. If it was happening to anyone else, it’d be as funny as all hell. Since it was happening to Mum, though, I had at least a little bit of sympathy and compassion.
Turning around, I saw Dad was setting the garlic bread on the table. It smelt delicious. Reaching out, I broke the end piece off and popped it in my mouth.
“Busted!”
“Shit!” I murmured around a mouthful. The garlicky butter was burning my tongue, but I wasn’t about to spit it out. Dad would probably use his fancy new wooden spoon on my arse if I did.
After I organised everyone a drink we sat down and dug in. Dad’s spaghetti and meatballs wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t as good as Mum’s but still wasn’t bad. While I stuffed myself silly, Giselle chatted. It’s probably why she was so damn skinny. Instead of eating, she spent all her time chatting. My problem was I liked food way too much to give it up.
“So, Natasha Elizabeth.” My stomach turned over. When Dad full named me, I swear my heart stopped and the belly full of pasta gurgled. “Tell me about your boyfriend. You know, the friend who dropped you off at the hospital the other night. Who is he? What’s he do? What’s he look like. And more importantly, when do I get to meet him?”
“B-b-boyfriend?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LOGAN
I was ready to punch someone. Anyone really. I’d spent the last couple of hours sitting on a chair that was way too small for me, answering question after question. They were intense and intrusive and unrelenting. Why the FBI didn’t recruit eight-year-olds was beyond me. I’d been asked everything from what I ate for breakfast to what was it like living with the Bryce Masters. Trying to keep my answers PG, especially when it came to Bryce, was a challenge I hadn’t been prepared for. But I’d survived. Barely.
That hadn’t been the part that had me wanting to punch someone in the face, though. Nah, kids were just kids. What had me wanting to poke my eyeballs out was when I’d finally managed to say goodbye and escape the classroom, only to run into the hall filled with parents and teachers milling about everywhere. Didn’t they have anything better to do on a Thursday morning?
If I’d thought the kids were intrusive, their mothers were in a whole other class. I’d dodged questions about my relationship status, what I was packing in my jocks and so much more. Some people were cut out for this, and some weren’t. I was definitely in the latter category.
By the time I escaped their fake boobs, fake lips and even faker personalities, my shirt was torn, and I’d received proposals of every kind. Marriage, dates and even a few who just offered up their bodies. All of which I turned down.
Sliding into the car, I dialled Alison’s number. This shit was not happening again. If they wanted to put me in front of kids, no worries. But there was no way I was going in alone. They could send back up or security or something.
“Hey, Oliver. You done at the school?” she asked nonchalantly. In the background I could hear the buzz of chatter and the scraping of plates.
“I just escaped. Barely.”
“Dramatic much?”
Alison was a no-holds-barred, no bullshit type of woman. Usually she was someone I respected but right now she was the reason I’d been pushed and pulled and pinched and had my arse slapped.
“You weren’t here to see how vicious they could be.”
“Vicious? Geez, Oliver. We’re talking about a bunch of eight-year-olds. They don’t even come up to your shoulder. I’m sure you can handle them.” She laughed.
“The kids weren’t the problem.”
“Then why are you calling me to complain?”
“Their parents on the other hand…”
“Ah. Now I get it. Mother’s club made their appearance known.”
“It wasn’t the only thing they made known,” I grumbled as I remembered one of them telling me how she was divorced and very, very horny.
“Ah, poor baby. But you’re done right?”
“Yeah. I’m done.”
“Great! You don’t have to do another one for a couple of weeks.”
“Another couple of weeks?”
“Look, Logan, my twelve o’clock just got here. Thanks for checking in. We’ll talk next week when you’re back from Brisbane.”
“Alison…”
“Gotta run. Talk to you later.”
She hung up without waiting for me to reply. Bitch. I could picture her laughing at me as she picked at her salad. Pumping up the music, I headed for the club weight room. After a brief stop in the locker room, I changed into some workout gear, slipped my ear buds in and got busy.
Halfway through my session, I wasn’t alone anymore. Jack and Nick had appeared, which meant there was a good chance Bryce wasn’t far behind them. I’d been enjoying the peace and space of having the room to myself. It wasn’t that I was opposed to sharing the gym, I just wasn’t in the mood for their bullshit today. Truthfully, I’d been in a shitty mood since I woke up alone on Monday morning to find Tash had fled. My messages had gone unanswered and my calls had been sent straight to voicemail. I spent way too many hours wondering what the hell I’d done wrong and how I could fix it. The problem was, while she was avoiding me, I couldn’t figure it out.
“Hey, Logan. Didn’t know you’d be here. Thought you were on school duty this morning,” Jack commented, dropping onto the weight bench beside me.
“Just finished it. And I survived it. Just.”
“What? All the admiration got too much?” Nick teased as he stepped on the treadmill and started walking.
Ignoring their constant chatter, I focused on my lifting and started busting my arse determined to get my session finished in a hurry. I was just setting the dumbbells back in the rack when Bryce sauntered in. With his cap pulled down over his face and the dark glasses, he was either hiding from someone or hungover. With Bryce be
ing Bryce, there was a fifty-fifty bet.
“Morning, Sweetheart,” I greeted him, clapping him on his shoulder.
“Urgh!”
“What’s wrong?”
Bryce didn’t answer. Instead, he clasped his hand over his mouth and made a beeline towards the bathroom. Nick paused the treadmill and Jack set the bar back on the bench, then we all followed. Stepping into the locker room, I could hear the retching and smell the putrid scent of vomit even over the permanent scent of feet and arse and sweat.
“Shit, man! You okay in there?” Jack asked.
The retching came again along with a strangled moan.
“There’s no way he’s playing tomorrow.”
“No shit!”
“We better call Doc.”
“On it,” Jack found his phone and made the call.
Not wanting to stand there and listen to Bryce toss his cookies, I grabbed my bag and left the locker room. I’d shower and change at home. I couldn’t stand to listen to him for a second longer. I was a sympathy spewer. It wouldn’t take much before I dropped to my knees and started praying to the porcelain god right alongside him.
A handful of hours later, I was lying on the bed in my hotel room by the airport waiting for my room service to arrive. After we told Doc what was going on with Bryce, I was sent home to pack a bag and get the hell away from him. Apparently, there was a stomach virus going around and already four of my teammates, five if we added Bryce to the casualty list, had succumbed. They weren’t risking any more of us going down.
A knock at the door came and my stomach growled. Shoving my laptop aside, I jumped up and answered it. Standing before me was a tiny little girl, carrying a tray that probably weighed more than she did.
“Mr. Oliver. Your dinner.”
Pushing the door open even further, I let her in, pointing to the desk where she could set it down. A moment later she was gone, and I was shovelling steak and potatoes into my mouth. This hotel may not be fancy, it may not have all the amenities, but it was close to the airport and they could cook one hell of a steak.
By the time I finished the mountain of food, I was exhausted and ready to sleep for a week. It’d been a big day, and an eventful one; and I much preferred things to be calm, peaceful and drama-free. Everything my life wasn’t these days. After a quick shower I slipped beneath the sheets in my birthday suit and let the tiredness take over.
The phone rang earlier than I would’ve liked, waking me up. And when the phone rings that early, you know it’s never good news. Especially when you see Coach’s name on the screen.
“Oliver!” he said by way of greeting. Pleasantries and small talk were not his strong suit.
“Morning, Coach. What’s happening?”
“Jack and Nick are out too.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Not Nick and Jack as well. We were dropping like flies.
“Yeah. I just got the call. How are you feeling?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good! Stay that way.”
“Will do,” I promised. What else could I say? From what I saw of Bryce, that bug looked nasty. Avoiding it was high on my priority list.
“I’m changing your flight. You leave at ten now instead of two.”
“You’re changing the team’s flight?” That had never been done before. Sure, we’d been delayed but that was just because of airline issues. We never changed our flights.
“No. You’re flying out first. You’ll land in Brisbane and go straight to the hotel. The rest of the team will arrive a couple of hours later. So far, we’re down eight players, three coaches and a physio.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah, shit. I need to keep enough people healthy so I have a team to take the field.”
“Do we still have that?”
“For now. So, get everything sorted. I’m emailing you updated flight details. Don’t miss that flight and stay the hell away from anyone who even remotely looks like they might cough.”
“Will do.”
Flopping back against the pillows, I checked the time. Just before seven. Plenty of time for some breakfast, a run and a hot shower before I had to head over to catch my flight. Stumbling out of bed, I pulled on my sweats, tied my shoes, stuffed the room key card in my pocket and headed out.
It wasn’t the best run I’d ever had; pounding the pavement around the airport was boring and dangerous. Drivers around airports were not exactly observant. By the time I made it back to the hotel, I was coughing and spluttering and drenched in sweat. The air quality out there wasn’t that great, and I was struggling.
Taking the elevator up to my room, I dialled in my breakfast order before stripping off and stepping back into the shower. Standing there under the hot water, I rested my head against the cool tiles. Closing my eyes, I let the water beat down on my shoulders. Rolling my neck side to side, I let the stress get washed away with the sweat. As my mind drifted away, Tasha sprang to mind. It wasn’t the only thing springing to attention either. Trying to ignore my now-throbbing cock which was pointed towards my stomach, I grabbed the body wash and lathered up.
By the time I’d washed my hair and was finishing up, my aching dick still hadn’t deflated. It was all those images stashed in my spank bank of her. Images of her withering beneath me. Visions of her riding my cock, her boobs bouncing. Memories of her back arching as she shattered into a million pieces as her orgasm consumed her. Unable to hold off any longer, I reached down and wrapped my hand around my shaft, using the body wash as lube to work the frustrations out of my body.
“S-s-shit!” I grunted as my balls drew up and my spine tingled. “Tash…” I came so hard, by the time I was finished I felt completely drained but still not satisfied. The release helped, but it was nothing on the real thing.
Disgusted with myself, I rinsed off, carefully checked the shower to make sure the evidence had disappeared down the drain before climbing out and wrapping a towel around my waist. I’d just lathered my face in shaving cream when breakfast arrived. With the scent of bacon and eggs filling the room, I abandoned the idea of shaving, washed the cream from my face and got dressed.
By the time I landed in Brisbane, I was agitated and annoyed. While everything had been arranged for my flight, what they failed to mention was that due to the change, I was stuffed in the back of the plane in the middle seat with no leg room. None at all. After untangling my legs, I grabbed my bag and stumbled from the plane.
Halfway through the airport concourse, I spotted someone I thought I recognised. Not just someone I might know either. Someone I knew intimately. Someone I was desperate to see again. Someone who’d been avoiding me.
“Tash!” I called out as I sped up, side-stepping the crush of the crowd. “Tash!” I tried again.
Up ahead, she stopped and looked around. I was convinced it was her. She didn’t see me, though.
“Excuse me! Sorry. Excuse me.” I pushed my way through, trying to get to her.
When she turned towards the exit, the heavy backpack weighing her down, I sighed heavily. Dropping my own bag on the ground, I found my phone and waited for it to power up. Frustrated it was taking so long, I jumped up and headed in her direction. When it eventually let me log in, I dialled her number. It went straight to voicemail. Surprise, surprise.
“Tash. Are you in Brisbane? I could’ve sworn I just saw you at the airport. Call me. Please.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TASHA
I heard my phone ring and dug it out of my handbag just as it stopped. Trying to juggle my handbag and my overstuffed backpack was a challenge so when I collapsed into the cab, I dumped my crap on the seat beside me, settled my sunglasses over my face and dropped my head back against the headrest.
After giving the cabbie the address of my hotel and trying not to gag – it was like the guy had never heard of deodorant – I turned my attention to my phone. Seeing the three missed calls, I checked my voicemail.
The first was from my da
d. “Hey, sweetheart. Just wanted to tell you how proud we are of you going off and chasing your dreams. You’ll do great. See you when you get home.” Just hearing Dad say he was proud of me made me sit up a little straighter. His words gave me the confidence boost I needed. Hearing him say I could do it had me actually believing I could.
The second was from Giselle. “Hey, Bitch! I know you’re probably in the air right now and I’m not jealous at all. Have an awesome time and try not to worry about anything. You can do this. Just do what you’ve been doing, and you will kill it. I know you will. Drinks Tuesday. And that’s not negotiable.”
Giselle was Giselle. She was unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and I wouldn’t change a thing about her. Except maybe her bossiness. That I wouldn’t mind toning down a notch or two.
The third was Logan. “Tash. Are you in Brisbane? I could’ve sworn I just saw you at the airport. Call me. Please.”
“Fuck!” He wasn’t supposed to know I was here. I’d checked I wasn’t on the flight with the rest of the team, but somehow Logan had spotted me. Or at least he thought he had. Maybe I could get away with it. I’d even bought myself a ticket in the second tier stand on the opposite side of the grandstand away from the media, despite Gerard hooking me up with a coveted press pass. Something I’d had my heart set on getting for years. Now I had one, I was choosing not to use it. Getting tangled up with Logan had truly fucked me up. All my dreams were within grasp, but I was on the verge of losing it all. All because I couldn’t keep my hands off Logan-fucking-Oliver.
Turns out, spending a night alone in a hotel room was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. After checking in, I took myself out for a walk and grabbed an early dinner before coming back to the room and getting some work done. By the time I turned in for the night, not only was it still on the right side of midnight, but I’d finally finished my essay and caught up on my reading. Maybe I should go away more often.
Now it was game time. After packing everything I might possibly need, I headed for the stadium. In my opinion, the walk to the stadium was the best part of the game. You got swallowed up on the sidewalk amongst the throng of people all dressed in their team’s colours. Singing the songs. Waving the banners. Everyone hopeful. People bantered back and forth over their chances. Some bragged about their team’s players, while others tried to decipher the statistics. It was a situation that could very easily turn volatile, but in all my years going to the games, not once had I seen it.
Marked (Playing Games Book 1) Page 18
