Playing Dirty (Sydney Smoke Rugby)

by Amy Andrews

  Why hadn’t anybody called the police?

  Because word had got around that a rugby legend had set up home in the park, and everyone was stopping by for a look. And Kyle was happy to chat and tell all and sundry he was there for love while he signed autographs, posed for selfies, and had impromptu games of footy with anyone who was keen.

  Apparently during the night, he and his merry gang of supporters sat around a campfire singing.

  To a guitar.

  By the fifth morning, Val was over it. This had to stop. She went over the road during a lull in her work schedule to put an end to it. Kyle greeted her with a face full of scruff and a beatific smile, like he was some freaking yogi.

  She blinked. What the hell? This was not Kyle. Sure. The scruff was sexy as hell, and she was trying really hard not to wonder how it would feel scratching against her nipples and between her thighs, but that was beside the point.

  Perhaps an ever bigger annoyance was the presence of a Chelsea bun in his lap. A Chelsea bun from a bakery that was not hers. That was the last straw.

  Deciding to ignore this transgression, she skewered him with a fierce gaze. “Kyle. You have to go back to training. The semis start next week.”

  His family had retreated some distance so they could have some privacy, but she knew they were probably all straining their ears to hear what was going down. Apart from young Robbo, who was now waving the honk sign at passing cars.

  Who were all obligingly honking back.

  “I will. As soon as you know that I choose you. I’ll always choose you.”

  “Okay.” Val nodded briskly. “You’ve made your point. I know. Happy now?”

  He dropped his head to the side and regarded her for a moment. “Nah.” He laughed. “You gotta mean it.”

  Val rolled her eyes. “Kyle. You’re going to owe a fortune in no-show fines.”

  He shrugged. “I got plenty of money. None of which I need. All I need is you.”

  Val’s heart just about split wide open at that. But now her level of pissed off at his manipulation of her in such a public way reached epic proportions, and she strengthened her resolve.

  “You’re crazy.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Crazy for you.”

  “Oh for—” Val threw her hands up in the air, despite the absolutely perfect response. The man always had known exactly what to say.

  This was hopeless—he’d taken complete leave of his senses, and she was getting nowhere. She turned and stormed back to the bakery.

  The next day, the first news crew arrived, and Val watched Kyle tell a morning television host he wasn’t leaving because a body can’t live without a heart, and his was across the street.

  All hell broke loose.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two days of intense media scrutiny was wearing. It seemed like all of Sydney knew about them, which was kind of freaky. It was also hard to run a business when journos stopped in for a quote and passersby stopped in to impart advice like give Kyle a chance or make him suffer a little bit more, love.

  Although, the latter was, of course, the minority opinion.

  Sure, it was putting Sticky Fingers on the map, and sales were booming, but being caught up in the middle of a circus was not Val’s idea of fun.

  The police had to be called to manage traffic in the street. Not to evict Kyle’s ass, but to manage the traffic. When she’d asked why the squatters weren’t being forcibly removed, a middle-aged police officer said no one had complained, and who wanted to stand in the way of true love?

  And there was Kyle at the centre of it all, the squatter-in-chief, looking more and more like some kind of built, buff Jesus every day, being calm and reasonable and winning the public opinion battle, which he and her were apparently having, according to the six o’clock news.

  Frankly it was good to get home each afternoon and hide away from it all. So far they hadn’t found out where she lived, but Val knew that wouldn’t last long.

  In fact, the crashing knock at her door at three on Thursday afternoon had her convinced her anonymity was shot. But it wasn’t the media. Or Kyle. Or some random with an opinion.

  It was her father.

  Val blinked at him as he stood in her doorway, his big bear-like physique fully blocking out an overcast day which aptly reflected her mood. “Dad?”

  “Hey, Valerie.”

  For a moment Val almost burst into tears. Almost threw herself at him. But the quick realisation that he probably wasn’t here for her, that he was probably here about Kyle, had her grinding her feet into the floor and gripping the doorknob hard.

  “I can’t help you with Kyle.”

  “Oh…I…” He shuffled his feet and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “What?”

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To get me to talk some sense into your prize player? Which, you should know, I’ve been trying to do, but the man is being totally impossible.”

  “Oh. Well…no. But for what it’s worth, I’ve found Leighton to be generally impossible.”

  Valerie laughed despite herself, and the feeling of gloom that had descended upon her lifted a little. If he wasn’t here about that, then what? Her pulse quickened at the possibilities. She stood aside. “Why don’t you come in?”

  “Oh. No.” He waved his hands in a quick, dismissive motion and shuffled back a step. “I need to be standing for this, and I’d rather just say what I’ve come to say.”

  “O…kay.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ve come to apologise. For everything.”

  Val blinked. Her father was apologising?

  “For all the years I neglected you. And actively pushed you away. I’ve been a lousy father and I have no real defence for that. Things were screwed up inside my head…still are, I guess…and it was easier to check out, to wall myself off, than to think about…”

  For a second he was back there, back to that day. She could tell by the flash of horror in his eyes. Back to seeing Lauren under the car. To lifting it off her. To her mother’s screams.

  How does someone live with that?

  Tears stung the back of her eyes and prickled inside her nose. Goose bumps broke out all over her skin as a lump the size of Henley stadium lodged in her throat.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I know every time you look at me you see Lauren, and that can’t be easy.”

  He shook himself out of his reverie and came back to the here and now. “I do, that’s true, but not in the way you think. I see that I took your sister from you. That I took a daughter from your mother.”

  The comments didn’t surprise her. Hadn’t Kyle told her exactly that? But they made her want to weep for him.

  “I was supposed to…” He thumped his fist against his chest. “Protect you all.”

  A silent sob rose in her chest. Her father was so grim and determined—she was used to that. But she’d never seen him vulnerable. Never heard his voice cracking. The rawness of it was like an axe to her heart. “It was an accident, Dad.”

  “I know.” He nodded. “Rationally, I know that. And I know I need to get some help to deal with things I’ve never properly dealt with, and I will.”

  The news gladdened Val’s heart. She hated to see him still so anguished after so long. She took a step toward him, but he held up his hands to stay her.

  “No, wait. That’s not all.” He cleared his throat and ploughed on. “Leighton told me that you think I don’t love you, and I can’t bear for you to think that. I love you more than my own life and I’m sorry I never told you that. I’m sorry that I…couldn’t tell you. And that I wasn’t there for you.”

  Val’s breath hitched, and she was a little girl again, desperate for her father to love her. “All I wanted was to love you.”

  “I know.” He nodded. “I just…don’t feel deserving of your love. Of anyone’s love. After what I’d done.”

  “Oh…Dad, no…”

  Her heart broke for him, and the tears that had been threatening
brimmed over and she dashed them hurriedly away. Was that why her father had never remarried? Had never, to her knowledge, had a girlfriend, either serious or causal?

  “But I want to be part of your life, Valerie. I know I haven’t earned that right, and I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to get lost. But I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to be your father, if you’ll let me. A proper father this time. I might screw up from time to time, but I want to try.”

  Val nodded because she was too choked up to talk, the tears flowing freely now, and when she took a step toward him, he didn’t stop her, in fact, he reached for her. Suddenly she was wrapped up in his arms, in the kind of hug she’d always imagined fathers gave but had never experienced.

  She didn’t know how long she cried for, but it felt like twenty-two years of suppressed grief bubbled out of her. The huge wet patch on Griff’s shirt, when he finally let her go, was a testament to that.

  “Thank you.” She sniffled as she dabbed at her face with the back of her hand. “For coming today. And for wanting to be my dad again.”

  He smiled at her, and it was as if the sun had come out behind him. “You should be thanking Leighton.”

  Val stiffened a little. “Kyle?”

  Her father nodded. “Your mother and Eve have been telling me for years how my distance has been hurting you, but it’s easy to ignore those closest to you. Sometimes it takes an outsider to really cut through, to make you take a good, hard look at yourself. And Leighton was not afraid to call me on my bullshit. The kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that.”

  He certainly did. Very nice balls, actually. Not that she was about to go there with her father. And he’d been in her corner from that first night. Team Val all the way.

  “You love him?”

  “Yes.” It should have felt weird admitting that to her father, but it didn’t.

  “And you know he only made the choice he did because I asked him to? He was just trying to make things easier between me and you.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I know.”

  “Val…you being with a pro rugby player isn’t what I wanted for you. You know I didn’t want you to have anything to do with rugby at all, but here you are, as much a part of the Smoke as any member of the team, and that guy loves you, plain and simple.”

  Val’s heart swelled hearing her father acknowledge how integral she was to the team. “I know. He just made me so bloody…mad.”

  Her father laughed. “I know the feeling.”

  All the anger suddenly evaporated into thin air. She was carrying on like a child stamping her foot. She loved him, and the rest was garbage.

  “I do love him.”

  Griff smiled. “Then go get him.”

  …

  Kyle was surprised to see some of his fellow Smoke players show at about three on Thursday afternoon. They’d pushed through a growing media scrum, who were grudgingly keeping their distance at the edge of the park. The guys had obviously finished with training, and Kyle hoped they were here to show him some solidarity, although he wasn’t sure where his standing really was with them.

  He hadn’t seen any of them since he’d left the locker room after he and Griff had brawled. Because he’d been here camping like a jolly fucking swagman trying to win back his woman. Did they support him? Or were they pissed off that his antics were stirring up too much press in the lead up to the finals?

  The very last thing a team needed was distractions, and Kyle and his big grand gesture had been one giant distraction.

  Kyle stood as Tanner, Linc, Bodie, Ryder, and Donovan approached. Was it a delegation to tell him to pull his head in? Or had they come to kick his ass?

  Several family members drew in around him. Kyle was pretty sure his street-brawling family could take five Smoke players, but it’d be a close thing.

  Kyle nodded. “This a social visit?”

  “Fuck no,” Linc said. “This is poker.”

  Kyle blinked as he produced a pack of cards. He’d never been invited to poker night, although he knew there was a game every Wednesday, schedules permitting.

  He eyed the group with suspicion. They were his teammates, but he was more used to them cock-blocking him than inviting him to poker. “Why?”

  The guys shifted uneasily for a few seconds before Dono answered. “We’re with Val,” he said. “And she loves you. So that’s that. She’s one of us, so you’re one of us.”

  Kyle hated to break up the love to point out the fucking obvious, but… “I’ve been one of you for a couple of months now.”

  Tanner shook his head. “On paper, sure. Now you’re family.”

  “All assuming you don’t screw up with her any more than you already have,” Linc added.

  “I’m trying not to.” Jesus. Everyone was a fucking critic.

  Ryder pushed back the brim of his akubra. “We figured we could help you strategise.”

  Kyle was suddenly humbled by these guys reaching out to him. Maybe it was because they all loved Val so much but hell, he got that. And it was the first time he’d actually felt like part of the team. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t thank us yet.” Donovan looked at his companions. “Dudes know shit about this stuff. The WAGs might have been a better prospect.”

  A couple of minutes later, they were sitting on a ground sheet in a circle. “Christ,” Bodie said, glancing around at the trees. “I feel like we’ll all be holding hands and singing kum ba yah before the game is over.”

  “Maybe you should concentrate on using your hands to deal better cards,” Linc grouched. “Getting laid regularly hasn’t changed how shit you are at dealing.”

  “Dude.” Ryder glared at Linc. “Do you have to keep reminding me that this guy is sleeping with my sister?”

  Everyone laughed. Ryder had gotten over Bodie and Eleanor’s relationship ages ago, but it was always good for a laugh.

  They played a few rounds without saying much at all, but Linc always had liked the sound of his own voice. “First tip, man? Shave that ugly-ass scruff off your face.”

  That wouldn’t be any hardship for Kyle. It was annoying the crap out of him. But Linc didn’t have to know that. He ironed his palm over his jaw. “You wish you could grow a beard like this.”

  Linc snorted. “You can’t grow a beard for shit. Dono”—he pointed at Donovan—“he can grow a thick, full, fuck-off beard like you wouldn’t believe. In five days.”

  Donovan nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Seriously, it’s a thing of beauty,” Linc continued. “Little birds want to nest in it. You…not so much.”

  “Have you apologised to her yet?” Tanner asked as he laid down a straight, and everyone groaned.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Not about whatever dumbass thing you did in the first place, but for everything.”

  Kyle blinked. “Everything?”

  “Yeah, you know.” Ryder tossed his cards in. “For being male.”

  Bodie nodded. “For periods.”

  “And childbirth,” Linc said.

  “And,” Donovan tossed in, “not putting the toilet seat down.”

  “Also global warming and any other man-made catastrophe,” Tanner added.

  Kyle shook his head and wondered how the hell any of them had wound up with partners. “Jesus, you guys really are shit at this.”

  They laughed, and Tanner was dealing another hand when there was a general commotion coming from the road, and cries of “She’s here” filtered to them.

  “Holy shit.” Kyle stood, his heart rate spiking into the stratosphere as he saw a flash of red bobbing amidst a crush of media. The sun finally came out from behind the clouds. “Val’s here.”

  The guys stood. Tanner clapped him on the back. “Go and get her.”

  Kyle didn’t need to be told twice. “Don’t forget childbirth,” Linc called after him. Kyle wasn’t listening. He zoned everything out as he strode across the park to her.

  Everythi
ng but Val.

  The media were filming, the people in the park were cheering and calling out and taking video and pictures on their phones, but he didn’t care as he reached the media and she spotted him and smiled. They were all jostling and yelling questions, but he paid them no heed, extracting her efficiently from their clutches.

  She was in jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was loose, and he wanted her. Wanted to kiss her, drag her to his bed, and never let her out. But he wanted to just look at her more. To talk to her and be thankful she was here and that she was smiling at him.

  “You came.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “I got over myself.”

  He kissed her then, and she melted against him, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him back, the clapping and the cheering and the shouted media questions all evaporating into the ether as his senses filled with vanilla and his body lit up under her lips.

  She broke away suddenly and shook her head, laughing. “This is crazy. We need some privacy.”

  Kyle glanced around. The little crowd was hanging back, giving them space, but there was absolutely no privacy here. He didn’t care, though. Not right now. He wanted everyone to witness this. The public and the press and his team. He wanted them to take their pictures and their videos and post them on social media so the whole world knew he loved Valerie King.

  “In a minute,” he murmured, pushing a lock of her hair back over her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “No.” She shook her head vigorously. “I’m sorry.”

  Kyle slid his hands either side of her face. “I would never choose rugby over you. Never.”

  “I know that.” She slipped a hand over his. “I do. I was just being churlish.”

  “I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I spotted you killing olives in that bar with your sad eyes.”

  She smiled, and it clamped a hand around his heart. “For me it was the emergency stomach pump crack.”

  Kyle blinked. She’d loved him since then? “That early?”

  “Yes. I just didn’t realise that was the moment until now.”

  She kissed him again and the crowd, which appeared to be growing, sighed like a bunch of lovesick tweens. “Please say you’re going to be with me forever.”