In Time (Play On Book 2)

by Cd Brennan

  He stepped away. Wow, he’d missed her, just in a couple of days. “So you’re going to play?”

  “Aye, as you would say.”

  He chuckled for her. “Do you want some pointers?”

  “Sure, that would be great. I’m not sure where Coach is going to put me…”

  “You’ll be playing fullback, my spot.”

  “Oh.” Her face said it all. It always did.

  “It’s okay. I think Coach wants to hear my expertise.”

  “Of course he does, you rugby weapon, you.” Her responses were never simple. Grace was all drama, her expressions vivid, her body in constant motion. The antithesis to Rory, but that’s what he liked in her.

  He wasn’t anything like a rugby weapon, but it padded his pride a bit. “The fullback usually hangs back, the farthest from the forwards and the ruck.”

  She frowned.

  “Not that you can’t engage, but it’s your job to catch any kicks, to be the last line of defense if the opposing team gets through. And then you’ll need to tackle them.”

  “Tackle them. Got it.”

  “Watch their elbows, and lead with your shoulders before you wrap your arms.”

  “Shoulders in. Got it.” She nibbled her bottom lip. She was getting scared, while his pep talk was supposed to help her.

  “You’ll be fine. You know how to catch a ball, right?”

  “Suuuure.”

  He smiled. “Position yourself, don’t overthink, and ignore everyone else coming for it.”

  “Ignore the others. Got it.”

  Coach blew the whistle. It was time for her to take the field. Everyone looked so big compared to Grace, and Rory was about to say something to Coach again, but Grace squeezed his hand. “I’ve got this.” And she ran onto the field to some catcalls from the boys, hollering her name, cheering her on. She did a flying ballerina leap and then bowed into her spot. She was nuts. But he loved that.

  Yeah, she made him feel good.

  Chapter 8

  While he waited for Del and Grace to return home, Rory tossed a rugby ball between his hands while he listened to his go-to music. He had a Bluetooth speaker connected to his iPhone from where MacCunn’s “Land of the Mountain and the Flood” poured from his bedside table. After that, he’d plug into some Mendelssohn. He especially loved Hebrides Overture since it reminded him of Scotland, more so than even the traditional Scottish folk music.

  Leaned up against the headboard of his bed, he closed his eyes to the symphony. His hair was still wet from his shower and a trickle of water escaped and ran down his cheek. He used his shoulder to wipe it away.

  Grace had only run a couple of plays on the field, but when she’d come off, she’d been ecstatic, rushing over to him to tell him all about it. That had been pure magic. Worth all the worry while she’d been on the field. The guys had taken it easy enough on her, but when there were that many large bodies crashing together, the likelihood of her being squashed like a midge was higher than Austin after their Saturday games. Palpable, her on the field. He had tried to follow her the entire time but Coach kept up a running Q & A with Rory about possible plays, position changes.

  It was best that Coach had kept him distracted or he would have worried. There was one tackle that had looked especially damaging, but Grace had bounced up laughing.

  He still didn’t know what Coach’s inquisition was about, but he would reveal it to Rory in his own time. But it got him wondering. He was twenty-five, and by now he should have excelled at rugby or not. It was as simple as that. He understood the game, better than most. He’d been watching rugby since he was only four, been playing since he was five. But unlike some players that had taken off in their skill, Rory had remained stagnant after his secondary school years, and even then he had never been a top team pick. His commitment and dedication had carried him through most of the time. Where some of the lads had serious natural ability, they lacked Rory’s discipline. And while Rory had the drive and motivation, he obviously lacked the innate skill set.

  Del had stayed after to talk to the coaches, and Grace had gone for a celebration drink with Gillian, girls only she’d said. Something about panty power, or girl power, or something he didn’t quite catch she’d been so breathless in her excitement.

  When he heard the front door open and slam, there were two voices, both hers and Del’s, chatting away easy like. She must have won over the captain as easily as she had with Rory. A twinge of envy caught him off guard, and he lowered the music to hear better.

  Clomping came up the steps, and then a heavy boot kicked open his door. Del entered with Grace under his arm like a ball, her laughing hysterically, her body a stiff, long plank. “And the lady scores a try!” Cupping his hand over his mouth, Del mimicked a crowd cheer. “With the help of the captain, of course, to get her over the line!” The kiwi pivoted Grace’s body upward like a lever and stood her on her feet.

  Her face was red, either from the rush of blood to her head or excitement. She was now wearing a men’s Blues T-shirt over her own.

  Grace hooked a thumb at Del and shrugged. “It was his idea.”

  Del grabbed her in a side hug so that she stumbled toward him. “All the best ones are.” At no reaction from either him or Grace, Del said, “Well, you guys are about as exciting as vegemite on dry toast. I’m on to greener pastures. And when I say greener, I mean wetter.” He clapped Grace on the back like she was one of the boys. “Not too bad tonight, Miss Gracie. Rory here might have to fight for his name on the team list next game.”

  “Ha ha, very funny.” He threw the ball at Del who caught it and then threw it back, but it sailed over Rory’s head and bounced off the wall to the floor.

  Her hair was curlier from playing outdoors, her skin still flushed from the cold. “I only ran around for twenty minutes on the field and I was dyin’.” Her last word was all twanged southern style, so different than the northern American accent. He liked it.

  “I mean, I thought I was in decent shape until tonight. I don’t think anyone, well except you guys, has any idea how athletic rugby is. No wonder all you guys are so fit.” With a quick shake of her head, she stepped closer to the door and grasped the doorknob, already halfway out of the room. “I should probably get in the shower.”

  He wanted her to stay. “Did you like it?”

  “Oh. sure. It’s fine. I mean, it was great.” She circled the doorknob with her hand, her gaze averted. “Are you fine, ya know, with everything?”

  Did she mean the kisses? That she played rugby? That they were roommates?

  “Are you?”

  “Hell yes! Why wouldn’t I be? That was awesome!” She crossed the room and sat at the end of his bed. Mendelssohn now played in the background, and Grace’s breathing rose and fell with the long down-bow strains.

  His question was answered. “You did really well.”

  “Aw, shucks no.” Grace batted away the compliment with her hand. “I don’t think with my try-out tonight, I made the team.”

  Rory got up and placed the football from the floor onto his desk, and when he plopped back onto his bed, left more room to the side in hopes that Grace would come sit with him. And possibly more. That was always on his mind these days.

  She eyed the space and then looked around his room. “Wow, your room is so…clean.”

  “I like my things organized.” His hands had been folded in his lap, but he didn’t want to appear a numpty, so he clasped his hands behind his head and presented a relaxed pose. Or so he hoped. He probably looked like he had chicken wings sprouting from his head.

  She snorted. “Very.” Grace walked around the room, but there wasn’t much to see. He’d always kept his rooms sparse, functional, not bothering with any personal touches, from his room at his folk’s place to the dorms at uni. Here, he hadn’t even put up any pictures of his family. She picked up the Bluetooth speaker and asked, “Classical?”

  “Aye.”

  “I thought you weren’t i
nto music.”

  “Not in the traditional sense.”

  She bit her lip and redirected her attention at his old stash of rugby magazines. “I like country and you like classical. Hmmm…”

  What did that mean, the hmmm? “I just wasn’t exposed to much country music over in Scotland. I might like it.”

  At the end of her perusal, she came and sat next to Rory as he’d hoped. He let his right arm drop around her shoulders, and she cuddled in. “I really should get in the shower,” she mumbled, but then buried deeper into his side.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little, but not too bad. Just tired.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, rugby kicked my butt. Every muscle in my body hurts already. I can’t imagine tomorrow!”

  “You’ll be sore. Check with Gillian. She might have something for you.” Bugger. No action tonight. But it was still nice holding her. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm and then grasped her hand and intertwined his fingers over hers.

  “I’ll call her on my lunch from work.” Grace’s one shoulder was tucked into his side, her other hand sprawled across his chest. “Rory?”

  “Hm.”

  “Do you still think girls don’t belong on a rugby field?”

  “After seeing you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Most definitely.”

  She pinched his belly.

  “Ouch!”

  “You deserved it. Seriously…”

  “Seriously, no. You looked like you belonged on that pitch.”

  He felt her smile on his chest.

  “Will you turn off the lamp?”

  “Oh, sure.” He reached over, and at the click, the room fell into darkness. Mendelssohn still played in the background; the normal intriguing adagio now seemed to Rory sad and lonely. Maybe he’d been interpreting it wrong this whole time. “So now that you’ve conquered rugby, what’s next?”

  “Not sure, maybe something will come my way. I’d love to do more rugby but, yeah, playing with the men’s team isn’t going to work. I wish there was a women’s team.”

  That got Rory to wondering. Maybe there could be. Coach had prompted Rory’s interest in the management of the game with his questions tonight. And Coach had seem impressed with Rory’s own knowledge. Maybe…

  “Maybe you should start a women’s team,” Grace said on a yawn. “You’d be good at it with all your organization, cleanliness, and…classical music.”

  She squirmed and laughed when he tickled her in her side.

  “Nothing wrong with planning ahead.”

  “There’s everything wrong with it. Doesn’t leave any room for carpe diem-ing.” Her voice ended in a mumble as if she was half asleep.

  “If, and it’s a big if, there was a women’s team, and you could play regularly, would it make a difference to your diabetes?”

  She scoffed, “There are loads of professional athletes with diabetes.”

  “Aye, but they most likely have a physician monitoring them.”

  “I’ll be fine. And you’d be a great coach, Rory. You should try it. Just go for it! Do something different.”

  As much as she didn’t want someone looking over her shoulder, Rory worried for her. He’d researched diabetes to know more about it. There were two types, Type-1 and Type-2, yet Grace hadn’t mentioned which type she had, only that she’d had it since she was a kid. If not taken seriously, it could be deadly. And that was exactly what Grace seemed to be doing.

  “Grace?”

  No answer. His arm lifted slightly with her inhale and exhale. She was asleep.

  Not wanting to presume, he turned gently and lifted her from the bed to take her to her own room. She was so slight, barely weighed anything. She wouldn’t have to know, but he’d take care of her.

  Chapter 9

  “He is soooo dreamy.”

  “No way.” Mrs. P was almost out of her cards, and the piles were stacking up, but today, Grace couldn’t get herself to engage in the game.

  “No, it’s true. He really is.” She should really get her head into work since it was her job and all. But today… Sigh. It seemed like nothing could compete with dreamy roommate called Rory. Grace liked his Scottish name better, but could understand why he’d changed it when he moved here. Or the lads did. She reckoned most folk wouldn’t know where to start with the name Ruaridh. Which was funny because it was pronounced almost the same. Rory had explained to her his name Ruaridh was more Ruree, versus Rory was more Roaree.

  “And the way he kissed, Mrs. P, well…my thighs went up in flames.”

  “Uh-oh.” Mrs. Peas finished off a stack up to the king, but Grace didn’t mind at all.

  “I know it, right? I need to be careful of that one or I’m going to be heading to bed with him right quick, and my momma wouldn’t be proud. But I’m an adult, and I know my own mind…I mean heart. I know what I want.” Mostly. Sorta. Well, a little bit at least.

  “No way.”

  “You don’t think so, Mrs. P? Have some faith in a girl!” Grace didn’t have much in herself obviously, so was hoping Mrs. Peas would come through for her. She’d been her sounding board for two months now.

  Grace had pretty much given up playing any cards today so Mrs. Peas had resorted to playing Grace’s cards for her—literally reaching over the piles and taking the cards needed off Grace’s solitaire deck. She might as well hand over the cards in her hand as well.

  Grace had drifted off daydreaming of Rory again, his lips on her mouth, his hand on her breast, his smell, shower-fresh. Or maybe just deodorant since they’d only been hiking, but even so, it had been divine. Unfortunately, she was turning herself on again, so she crossed her legs and cleared her throat.

  They hadn’t kissed since Sunday. Last night she’d fallen asleep on him. How embarrassing. Nice, Grace, smooth move. She seemed to always be tired these days. Her momma had told her it was a side effect of the diabetes if she didn’t watch her insulin intake, but Grace reckoned it was the dreary weather. Almost spring, but winters here hung on like a bull rider. Wouldn’t let go.

  Mrs. Peas was staring off into space again. Poor dear. Grace really did feel bad for her. What was it like to lose your mind? Were you scared? Or did you even realize it? Were you happier where you went? Or was it like a bad dream?

  When someone laid a hand on her shoulder, Grace startled. It was only Renee. “Hon, you have a visitor at the door. We haven’t buzzed him in yet since none of us recognize him, but he asked for you.”

  Who the hell? She only knew a handful of folk in Traverse City, none that would come around here if they had a choice. “What does he look like?”

  “Sweetie, that is one tall, dark, and handsome out there. A tall drink of mocha cappuccino with an accent, something funky, but hot. Girl…very hot.”

  Grace’s heart raced. Rory? Nah, couldn’t be. The only others would be Del or Irish, and when hell froze over, really.

  “Go on, now. I’ll watch your group while you go check him out. I mean…check it out.”

  Grace smiled and rose from her chair. “Thanks, Renee. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “It’s okay. Doesn’t look like Mrs. Peas is with us right now, anyhow.”

  While Grace walked to the front door, she took a few deep breaths and tried to slow her racing heart. But no luck, and when she exited the first set of doors into the vestibule, her heart exploded in her throat. There was Rory, hands tucked into his jeans, a nice jacket, scarf, and beanie on his head. He was staring off to the side as Grace approached.

  Dayum. And she was looking extra special spiffy today in a dirty hoodie and her bad jeans. Bad meaning they fit like crap. Gave her plumber’s crack and pinched her belly to give her a bit of a muffin top. Luckily, the large hoodie hid most of that.

  She knocked on the glass to get his attention.

  He turned and gave her a sheepish smile, gestured hi with a small wave of his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.


  “What?” He cupped his ear. “Can I come in?”

  Grace raised her voice and lifted her hands in question. “Not sure.”

  Rory’s eyebrows lowered in response. “Aren’t you allowed visitors?”

  Graced shrugged. She was still in her probationary period, and she didn’t know if she was. Some of the other staff had their partners or husbands or wives stop in, even their kids on occasion, but they’d been here for years.

  She held her hand up to the glass, and after a moment’s hesitation, he held his hand to hers. Wow. How amazing. Grace briefly wondered if she put her mouth onto the door and blew her cheeks into a fish kiss, if he would do the same.

  “I’m sorry—” Garble, garble. His other words were lost in the glass and steel separating them.

  Grace yelled, “What?”

  Just then, the managing director, Mr. Gabriel, came through the first set of doors, so Grace stood aside so he could leave. “Grace, what are you doing out here?” He was a tall man, gray hair, very serious type. She had always supposed it was hanging around all this sadness and death that must have made him that way.

  “Umm…I’m…” What the hell could she say? Rory was still on the other side of the door. So she lied. “I forgot my insulin so my roommate is dropping it off for me.”

  “Oh.” He hesitated a moment, a slight twitch in his one eye. But then he nodded. “Okay then.” Mr. Gabriel hit the code for the door release and walked through. He said hello to Rory as he passed, and when Rory slunk past and through the doors, her boss turned as if waiting for the exchange.

  “Thanks for bringing my stuff I forgot,” Grace said louder than necessary. The doors had already closed so she didn’t even know why she’d bothered. Probably because she hated lying, made her nervous as hell. She broke out in sweats worse than a blood sugar crash.

  Rory looked confused, his brows pinched in a straight line.

  Grace waited until Mr. Gabriel had gone to his car and then let out a long breath.