Rookie (Playing The Field Book 2)

by Rebecca Barber

  It wasn’t so much the having someone cook for me or do my laundry or even clean my bathroom, it was the location that had me wanting to never leave. It was a block from the beach, five minutes from the club, and only an easy train ride to the city.

  Stripping off, I dropped my wet shorts on the tiles and stepped under the spray. After a quick rinse to get the salt and sand off, I climbed out wrapping my towel around my waist. Ignoring the stubble on my chin, I sauntered into the bedroom, dropped the towel, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Impressed with what I saw, I flexed my muscles and couldn’t help but smile. I don’t give a toss what anyone says, especially Bryce. I’d worked bloody hard for these muscles; I was going to appreciate them.

  “Masters! Stop looking at your pretty-boy face in the mirror and get your arse down here if you want to eat,” Luca’s voice echoed up the stairs.

  Today was our first day of training after the Christmas break and my first with the team. I’d been recruited late, and even though I wasn’t about to admit it, I was nervous as fuck. The last thing I needed was to have Luca riding my arse before we even made it out the front door.

  Pulling on some sweats, I snagged a t-shirt and headed downstairs and into the kitchen following the scent of bacon. Rounding the corner, I walked in on a reminder of why, as much as I loved this place, I couldn’t stay. Luca had Elise pinned to the kitchen sink. Her hands were wrist-deep in a sink full of suds and his hands, well let’s just say I couldn’t see exactly what his hands were doing underneath her dress. Thank fuck.

  Clearing my throat to let them know I was there, Luca stepped back, a smug smirk on his face like he didn’t give a toss. I didn’t blame him. Elise was fucking awesome. She was a primary school teacher, had the funniest friends, and put up with not only Luca’s grumpy arse but had welcomed me into her home without blinking.

  Elise’s cheeks were pink, but she shook it off. “How was the surf this morning?”

  “Not bad.”

  “It was supposed to be a pretty decent swell,” Luca added, a mouthful of muffin.

  “It was.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Elise probed.

  I don’t know if it was her woman’s intuition or the fact she spent most of her days trying to decipher fact from fiction, but she’d nailed it.

  “Nothing.” I waved off her question. “Now, let’s eat so you can get to work on time,” I smiled at her, watching as she wiped her hands on the dishtowel before tossing it on the bench and heading to join us.

  While we ate, we chatted like a normal family. Who was home for dinner? What was on the agenda for the day? Was Elise going to strangle the little shit who kept trying to look up her skirt? Then they turned their attention on me.

  “You nervous about today?” Elise enquired gently.

  Yes. “No,” I replied automatically. I felt like I couldn’t tell the truth. Up until now, Luca had been a flatmate. A guy to sit and shoot the shit with. Have a beer with by the barbeque or go for a run with each afternoon. When we got to the club this morning all that would change. Luca wouldn’t just be Luca anymore. He’d be Coach Conti. An ex-representative player and all-around Aussie legend, but he’d also be the one in charge of deciding my fate. He could select me or he could bench me. I doubted picking up his socks was going to get me a starting jersey.

  “It’s okay if you are,” Elise reminded me, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

  Elise was five years older than me according to our birth certificates but in reality, it might’ve well have been twenty. She was wise, caring, and way too grown up for her own good. Her favourite thing in life was the herb garden she’d made me and Luca build for her in the sweltering heat. Even though we both bitched about it the entire time we were shovelling dirt and cow shit, there was no way we could say no to her. A little fact she was well aware of and used to her advantage often.

  “I’m okay. Promise,” I attempted to assure her—and me. A little extra assurance wouldn’t go astray right now.

  “Well, I think you’re going to do awesome,” Elise confirmed, bouncing out of her chair and dropping her plate in the sink.

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’ve gotta run. You two behave today. No fighting and I’ll see you when I get home.” Elise scooped up her handbag, the biggest handbag I’d ever seen, kissed Luca quickly on the cheek before stepping out of his reach, something I don’t think he was overly impressed with based on the way he grunted and attacked the piece of toast with his knife. “Oh, and don’t forget. Jax and Dana are coming over tonight for a barbeque. Seth, you’re cooking,” Elise reminded me before ducking out the door.

  “Jax and Dana?” I asked Luca.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yep. You haven’t met Dana, yet have you?” Shaking my head, Luca continued. “If you think Elise and Jax are a dangerous combination, just wait till they add Dana to the mix. Duck for cover and stay quiet’s the best advice I can give you.”

  “Are you serious?” To be honest, the way Luca was describing them, I was thinking spending the night crashing at Bryce’s was the best option.

  “Nah, not really. They’re good people. They looked out for Elise. They’re her family. You’ll love them.” Luca clapped his hand on my shoulder as he climbed out of his chair. Following his lead, I stood up and started clearing the table.

  “Hey, Luca?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you, I don’t know, maybe… ask Jax to…”

  “Ask Jax to what?” Luca dropped the cutlery in the sink, turned to face me, crossing his ankles over and leaning against the sink.

  “Maybe ask Jax to stop…” Fuck, this was awkward.

  “To stop what?” Luca had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. I hated that my awkwardness was entertaining him. Prick.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled, stuffing the syrup back in the pantry and collecting the placemats.

  “Come on. Spit it out, Masters.”

  “Fine. It’s weird when Jax makes comments about my arse.”

  As soon as I said it, I heard how stupid it sounded. Luca exploded into a fit of booming laughter that I swear they heard two suburbs over. It wasn’t funny. Some of his jokes, at least I hoped they were jokes, made me really fucking uncomfortable.

  Still laughing, Luca asked, “Like what?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does. What’s he say?”

  “Let’s see. Last time he was here he told me, ‘I’m not Thor, but I can be your arse guardian.’”

  If I thought Luca was laughing before, now he was hysterical. He was holding his sides; tears were streaming down over his red cheeks as he gasped for breath. “That’s fucking gold,” he gasped out between bursts.

  “It’s not funny,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, come on, Seth. Think about it. It really kinda is.”

  The problem was, Luca was right. It was downright hilarious. At least it would’ve been if they were aimed in someone else’s direction. I couldn’t tell Luca that though. That’d justify everything.

  “Did he have any other good ones?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be a baby. Look,” Luca wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, “Jax is harmless. I mean, he’s a complete flirt and a total slut, but he loves Elise like no one else. He definitely takes some getting used to, but once you get past his bullshit, you’ll see he’s the most loyal guy you could ever meet.”

  “Yeah well, it’s still weird as fuck that he comments on my arse every time I see him,” I mumbled.

  “Take it as a compliment. If anyone knows what a good arse looks like, trust me, it’s going to be Jax. He’s done the research. Now, help me clean this mess up. We’ve gotta be at training in an hour.”

  3

  Claire

  Today sucked monkey’s balls. Besides meeting the cutest guy since I’d moved to the city, everything had turned to shit. I eventually made it back to my car only to
find some wanker had broken in, smashing the passenger window, and stole…absolutely nothing. Because there was nothing in there worth stealing. A pair of cheap designer knock-off sunglasses, a couple of old school CD’s, and a towel on the back seat. Why anyone would want to break into my shit box, beat up soccer mum station wagon I had no bloody idea.

  After making sure there was no glass on my seat, because I didn’t have time to go to emergency to have my butt stitched up, I drove home, parked on the driveway, and ran upstairs to get ready for work. Finding Isaac lazing on the couch in his boxers eating the biggest bowl of Coco-Pops I’d ever seen, I made my car window his problem.

  While I jumped in the shower, Isaac lectured me through the door. First, he was pissed because I didn’t call him straight away, whatever. I didn’t have time to wait for the cops and deal with all that shit. Besides, what would they do? A smashed window wasn’t going to be high on their priority list. Then I told him about my adventures with Seth this morning, and Isaac’s voice turned into a shrill.

  “You pulled someone out of the water?”

  I didn’t really appreciate his condescending tone. Tightening the towel around me, I yanked open the bathroom door to find him standing there glowering at me. Without answering, I stomped past and into my room, slamming the door harder than was necessary.

  “Don’t be like that, Claire Bear!” he whined.

  I hated when he called me Claire Bear. Arsehole knew it was my weakness. Reaching around, I did the clasp up on my boring black bra and pulled up my black pants before opening the door.

  “Whoa! I don’t wanna see those,” Isaac said, covering his eyes.

  “Geez. Drama llama much? It covers more than my bikini does,” I reminded him as I took my shirt off the hanger and shrugged it on.

  “And that bikini will be going in the bin. Now, can we stop talking about your boobs and talk about you rescuing some random. What were you thinking?”

  “Well, Isaac, I was thinking the guy was drowning and needed help. So, I helped him.”

  “I know you can swim, but the surf isn’t like the rivers back home, Claire. You could’ve got dragged into a rip or wiped out by a wave…”

  “Isaac! Stop! I’m fine. I know the surf’s different. You’ve been telling me every day since I got here. I’m fine. He’s fine. Now, if I can get to work in the next eight minutes, maybe Vickie won’t have a shit fit and I might manage to keep my job.”

  Yeah, that didn’t happen.

  It took me fourteen minutes to get to the salon which was exactly six minutes too many. Even after I’d tried to explain about the whole rescuing someone and my car window being smashed, Vickie wasn’t buying it. She fired me on the spot. Told me if I couldn’t be bothered showing her enough respect to be on time, she wasn’t going to waste her time teaching someone like me, a flake, everything she knew.

  Twenty minutes later, I had my final pay in my hand, and I was standing out on the street feeling sorry for myself. Life wasn’t fucking fair. I’d tried to do a good deed and got fucked up the arse for it. Instead of breaking down and crying on the street and giving Vickie and her stuck-up offsider Elisabeth the satisfaction, I straightened my shoulders and marched down the street to the café. My breakfast might’ve been later than I’d planned, but at least now I could actually sit and enjoy it.

  It was after my second cup of coffee—hey, I might as well splurge a little while I had some cash, it’d run out soon enough—that misery was starting to creep over me. After flagging down the waitress and ordering a piece of chocolate cake, I grabbed the paper and started flicking through. Scanning the employment section was depressing as hell. There was nothing there. A few pamphlet delivery jobs, a mechanic, and a cleaner. I mean, I didn’t want to be a cleaner but would it be so bad. I pondered the idea, one that was becoming less and less appealing every moment as I considered the fact I’d probably end up spending most of my time on my knees scrubbing toilets or floors. Nope. Until the time came where I couldn’t stomach plain pasta anymore, cleaning wasn’t in my future.

  My cake appeared brightening up a really shitty day. Pushing aside the paper, I flicked it closed and focused on my cake. It was good cake. Like really, really good cake. Lifting a piece to my mouth, I should’ve known it would end up splattered on my shirt. That’s just how my day was going. Grabbing a napkin, I brushed away the crumbs and attempted to clean up the icing. What a pointless exercise.

  Dropping the napkin on the table, I saw the paper’s back page and started choking on air. Yep. I was that special. I was so talented I could choke on my own tongue for no particular reason at all, but today I actually had a reason. Plastered across the back page of the paper was a photo of a shirtless guy sporting a set of abs every girl would love to get their hands on, the perfect ‘v’ pointing to the very impressive bulge under his running shorts. But it wasn’t even the anaconda in his shorts that had my mouth falling open and a gasp escaping. It took some effort, but when I managed to look at the guy’s face, I recognised him. It was the same guy I’d pulled from the surf not more than a few hours earlier. It had to be. He had the same scruff and the same piercing eyes that I swear to God could see straight into my soul.

  “No fucking way!” I exclaimed under my breath, pushing the rest of my cake away and picking up the paper again.

  Eight minutes and three re-reads later and I was still stunned. There was no doubt. “Rookie Seth Masters Looks the Goods.”

  Fuck yeah he does.

  He looked so much better than good, let’s be honest.

  But I couldn’t believe it. The guy I’d met this morning, the seemingly uncoordinated guy wearing the lime green board shorts was, according to this reporter at least, the best thing since sliced bread and about to reinvigorate the Australian soccer scene.

  And I’d been dumb enough to think, even for a second, that I had half a chance with him. Guy was way out of my league. I mean, he was going to be the saviour of the sport, and I was an unemployed apprentice hairdresser. There’s no way he’d ever sink so low to go for a girl like me. Not that I was planning our happy ever after or anything. More, I’d just been wondering how good those arms would feel wrapped around me or how delicious those abs would taste as I traced my tongue over every ridge. Guess I might as well give up that dream and save myself some time.

  Reality was a bitch.

  Leaving the paper and my dreams behind on the table, I paid the bill and walked out the door into the morning sunshine. Not expecting to have the day off, I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with my new found free time. I didn’t want to go home. All that was waiting for me there was a very nosy big brother and a pile of laundry I’d have to climb over to get to the closet soon. Instead, I wandered into the shopping centre for a look around. I couldn’t buy anything, yet another one of the joys of being jobless, but maybe some window shopping would make me feel better.

  Three hours later and I was over it. I was over everything actually. Heading home, I walked past Vickie’s salon and couldn’t help myself but to stop and watch the chaos going on, on the other side of the window. A customer with what looked like pink hair was yelling, like actually screaming at Elizabeth and waving her arms around. Between the threats of lawsuits and the swearing, my day was starting to perk up. And as usual, Vickie was nowhere to be seen when she was needed. She was probably passed out under the desk in her office clutching a box of cheap wine.

  Feeling somewhat better, I stopped at the bottle shop and bought myself a present. A bottle of my favourite pink gin before heading home to face the music. Even though I lived with my brother, I knew once I told him I’d been fired he would sound more like my dad. Disappointed and with a million questions about my plans and intentions. Like I had any. The only plan I had right now was to drink my gin and take off this damn bra.

  4

  Seth

  “Hey, Seth, you know, you make me want to be a pirate because that booty will be my treasure.” Jax laughed at his own joke as h
e headed in my direction, drink in hand.

  Shaking my head, I tried to keep in mind what Luca had said. Jax was just trying to rile me up. The problem was, it worked. Every. Single. Time. Grabbing the tongs, I flipped the steaks and started taking the onions off the grill and piling them in the bowl. “Hey, Jax,” I replied unenthusiastically.

  “How’s it hanging? Elise said you started training today. How’d you go?”

  I looked at Jax completely confused. One minute he was hitting on me and making all sorts of comments about my arse, the next he was being almost sincere. I was getting whiplash from the change in direction.

  “You really wanna know?” I asked, pretty sure he was going to say no.

  “Yeah? Why’s that strange?”

  “’Dunno. Just is I guess.”

  “Doesn’t have to be.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  “No probably about it. I’m always right. Ask Elise,” Jax confirmed with a wink.

  “No. He’s never right and whatever he’s trying to convince you to do, Seth, the word you’re looking for is no.”

  “Don’t be a party pooper, Elise, or I’ll tell lover boy Luca here about that time when you thought you’d try waxing your hoo-ha yourself…” Jax began.

  Elise stared daggers at Jax. Stepping out of the line of fire, I moved around the barbeque and turned the gas off. Dinner was ready as soon as the show or the showdown was done.

  “Jaxson…if you continue to say one more thing about that…that incident…keep in mind all the things I know about you that you don’t want anyone else to.”

  “You’ve got nothing on me, sweetheart.”

  “Wanna bet?” Elise tossed out there before spinning on her heel and walking back inside.

  Luca and I just exchanged looks. I had no idea what the hell had just happened, I feel like gauntlets were thrown down and challenges met, but I wasn’t entirely sure who’d won that round. Shaking it off, I piled the meat onto the platter and carried everything inside for dinner.