Team Lucas (The Saints Team #1)

by Ally Adams

  I stood and looked sadly at my remaining zucchini and pineapple toast. I’ll miss you, I thought, but I’m prepared to pay that price to get out of this place sooner.

  *****

  After Alice dropped me off, I hung my new dress up in the large walk-in-robe in my beach pad… yeah I’m cool, and gave Mom a quick call. I had bought the ingredients for Mom’s specialty lemon meringue pie and I was going to attempt to whip it up for tonight. Unfortunately there was no-one there to lick the bowl and I had to do it myself.

  I cheated and bought the pie base, but I wouldn’t tell Mom that. I finished the filling and noticed Mom’s recipe said chill the pie for three hours. Crap. I glanced to the clock, it was nearing five so two hours of pie cooling would have to do since I still had to get the meringue on top and cool it again after that. Why didn’t I just buy a goddamn cake? And no, I wasn’t secretly trying to show off to Lucas Ainswright that I had lots of talents because I didn’t even like him.

  I finished whipping the meringue, stuck it on, created its whipped up peaks and popped it back in the oven until the peaks were toasted brown. Voila! And may I say it looked pretty good. Yes, I am a goddess in the kitchen, and the bedroom but there was no way to prove the latter. I set the pie aside to cool and went to run myself a bath and chill before the seven p.m. roll call upstairs.

  As I headed upstairs to the bathroom there was a knock at the adjoining door and I heard Lucas call my name.

  “Come in,” I called.

  He slid the door open looked around and saw me halfway up the stairs.

  “I thought you’d be at weights training,” I said with a glance to the clock. It was three p.m.

  “We start at four-thirty today. Um, a favor?” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “You know how you worked my shoulder last night?” he asked without waiting for an answer, “well any chance you’ve got your physio table here?”

  “Of course, it’s portable,” I said. “It’s in the cupboard in the guest room.”

  “Really?” He brightened.

  “You want a massage now?” I said. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m aching,” he said. “Can you do your thing? I’m guessing you can do a sports massage.”

  I grimaced at him. “No Lucas, I’ve spent the last three years studying sports physiotherapy but we haven’t got to that semester yet. Of course I can.” I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to massage that body but I was playing it cool. “I’ll turn the bathwater off. Want to move the physio table into the lounge?”

  “On it,” he said and closed our adjoining door before heading to the guest room.

  I came back downstairs after turning off my bath water and found him stripped already. This job was so hard, so very hard. He was wearing only a pair of white, very nicely fitted, boxer-briefs. It was really best to do a sports massage with fewer clothes on—it’s a true story, no names have been changed to protect my rising libido.

  I swallowed. “How are your muscles feeling?” I asked. It was a genuine question and totally professional—honest.

  “Tight,” he answered.

  “Let’s start with you lying on your stomach,” I told him and he lay on my table. “So where are the niggles?”

  “Just tired muscles, everywhere,” he said.

  “Right.” I studied his gorgeous... well everything. He looked totally relaxed and I guess he was; Lucas was no stranger to physios rubbing him up and down.

  I began a quick all over session including his shoulders, back, glutes and thighs. He stiffened and moaned occasionally as I worked each area but I wasn’t worried about hurting him; Andy and some of the other male physios at the club would have a lot more strength in their technique than me. I worked his thigh muscles, my fingers kneading around the top of his legs and stopping just short of his tight and well-formed butt.

  “You’re one lucky guy,” I said. “Bet your other minders didn’t give you a qualified sports massage like this,” I said, pushing hard to emphasize each word.

  “You’re right about that. I wouldn’t let any of those idiots touch me.”

  I finished off his back with some long, soothing strokes. “Done here,” I said. “Roll over.”

  He hesitated for a moment and I had a momentary sense of panic that I had done something wrong and he couldn’t move. Then I realized what was going on.

  “Um,” I cleared my throat, “this is not a happy ending massage.”

  Lucas Ainswright actually looked slightly flushed with embarrassment and then in his usual fashion, he deflected it back on me.

  “Could be a happy ending,” he said, “if you offered the full service.”

  “Don’t worry about it Lucas,” I said using my professional physiotherapist student voice. “It's perfectly normal for men to get an erection during a non-sexual, therapeutic massage.” I emphasized the non-sexual. “Touching the body can activate the parasympathetic nervous system and cause a partial or full erection.”

  “Did they teach you in class to say that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I told him and stood back. “C’mon, turn over, it’s not like I haven’t seen one before.”

  Lucas laughed. “I’m not worried about showing you my prized possession. Consider yourself lucky,” he said. “But knowing how prudish you are, I thought you might be freaked out.”

  “I’m not prudish,” I declared. I rolled my eyes. “Get on with it.”

  He gave a casual shrug and rolled onto his back.

  Oh wow, it was pretty hard to ignore that large bulge that was stretching the white fabric very thin, thin to almost translucent. I think I was staring.

  “Mia...” Lucas said in a sing-song voice.

  “What? Oh yeah, right.” I moved around and stood behind his head where I hoped he would close his eyes as I worked his neck and shoulders—at least until I got rid of my blush and stopped hyperventilating.

  From this angle though, his erection was even more superb. Right, focus. I reached under his neck and combed my fingers upward from the back to the base of the skull. I pressed down across the tops of his shoulders, releasing his muscle tension. I got a rhythm going—stroking across the upper chest and collarbone area. He moaned and relaxed into my hands. This was helping him but not me; his bulge was not going down.

  For pity’s sake how is anyone supposed to work with that loaded gun pointed at them?

  “Mia...” Lucas mumbled.

  “Yes,” I said, taking my eyes off his boxers and returning them to his face. He had his eyes open and was looking at me with a serene expression on his face—somewhere between half asleep and totally wiped out.

  “You need to work my groin area,” he said.

  “What?” I knew that, but I thought it best to avoid it.

  “You’ve done enough on my chest. Move to the groin,” Lucas repeated. “Common area for injuries with sports players, especially soccer players.”

  Lucas was really enjoying this. Enjoying my discomfort. Well guess what Lucas? I thought. You want groin work; you’re going to get groin work. I’d been studying physiotherapy for three years, and I knew how to work a groin like no other.

  “All in good time, Lucas,” I said, taking control.

  I worked his shoulders for just a little longer so I didn’t seem too anxious or keen and then I made my way to his groin—down in the middle of his abdomen, just above his genitals and where his work of art already on display maintained its up position.

  “Well?” Lucas asked.

  “Well what?” I had to tread lightly, I looked at his groin. “It’s a very sensitive area,” I said. No really, it was and not for the obvious reasons. Treating the groin was all about managing acute stages of injury and blood flow. I tried to explain this to Lucas who just mumbled, “Do what you can.”

  “So you want me to do what I can, but there won’t be any repercussions for anything I do?” I checked.

  “Ah, so
they teach you to legally cover your butt too. You’re deflating me Mia,’ he sighed. “It’s sore, so do what you can for my groin,” he pleaded, melodramatically then smiled.

  I rolled my eyes at him and gave him a look that said ‘pull your head in Lucas, and not that head.’

  “Okay, you’ll have to bend your knee and rotate it outwards,” I said, needing access to his groin. I may as well have said ‘put your penis in my face.’

  I took a deep breath and plunged in, so to speak. I stroked lightly but firmly upwards from above the knee to the groin area.

  Lucas inhaled sharply.

  “Did that hurt?” I frowned.

  He shook his head in the negative. I continued to work my way up and down the muscle, trying to cover the whole of the groin area.

  Lucas had stopped breathing. He occasionally took a large breath and held it again. He put his arm up to cover his eyes. I dialed back my pressure on him, and went a bit lighter in case it was too much.

  Lucas rolled off the table and grabbing his clothes, ran to the door.

  “Thanks,” he called back and was gone.

  I stood there looking at the door. What the...? I waited a minute and he didn’t return, so I closed the adjoining door again and went up to get in my bath.

  Chapter 11

  I wandered up the internal stairs to the third level right on seven p.m. with a bottle of mineral water and my lemon meringue pie. Their door was open.

  “Knock, knock,” I tentatively called out and a beautiful, blond woman in her mid-twenties appeared. She looked ethereal in a pale blue floating skirt and a loose knit, fitted cream top with three-quarter sleeves. I hoped my navy fitted dress to my knees would be suitable.

  “You must be Mia, welcome,” she greeted me. She was so warm and lovely.

  “I hope I’m not early.” I looked around. “Lord Lucas isn’t here yet?”

  She burst out laughing. “No, he’s been held up at weights training. The coach is giving them a pep talk. Please come in.” She led me into the kitchen and took the offered lemon meringue pie.

  “Mia, you shouldn’t have, this looks magnificent.”

  “Mom’s recipe,” I said. “I can’t take all the credit.”

  “Thank you, delicious. Puts my bought chocolate cake to shame.”

  “That was my fallback option,” I confessed. I liked her even more.

  “This is my fiancé, Jason.” She introduced me to an absolute bear of a man. Jason was enormous—tall with dark hair while Sarah was about my height and barely came up to his shoulders. He was wearing loose jeans and a black knit pullover and wiping dishes in the kitchen.

  “Poor hen-pecked fiancé,” he sighed, waving the dishtowel in my direction.

  I grinned and turned to Sarah. “Well done you. Now could you start working on Lucas?”

  They both groaned.

  “Have a seat.” Sarah indicated a stool at the bench. “We can watch Jase wipe up together.”

  “What will you have to drink?” Jase made a face at her and opened the fridge. “Wine, juice, a beer or your mineral water?”

  “The mineral water will be good, thank you,” I said and watched him pour a tall glass for me.

  “I’m glad we got a chance to meet you before Luke arrived home,” Sarah said. She took a glass of wine that Jase held out to her and came and sat by me. “I wanted to let you know that if you need to talk or just need to vent or escape, we’re here for you.”

  “Really? Thank you,” I said, “but so far so good. We’re not in each other’s pockets too often and I’m quite used to the insults.” I smiled. “I’m trying to match them one-for-one.”

  Jase nodded like he knew it too well. He glanced out to the driveway to make sure we were still alone and there was no sign of Lucas’s car.

  “You have to look after yourself as the first priority, Mia,” Jase said.

  “Jason is right. We love Luke,” Sarah said. “But we’ve been through a lot with him and we know he can be very hard on people.”

  “Yes, on anyone in Team Lucas,” Jase agreed.

  “Team Lucas.” I repeated the term and sighed. “It does seem that the day revolves around him, but it’s only a part-time job for me with a four-week trial. I might be gone at the end of the four weeks!”

  “You’re on track to beat the last minder,” Sarah said.

  “Poor Mrs. Compton, she’s the one I feel most sorry for.” Jase sighed.

  The pair of them was so lovely and caring, I couldn’t have hoped for better neighbors.

  “How did you meet Lucas?” I asked Sarah as Jase grabbed a beer and suggested we sit on the deck and look at the ocean from the third level.

  We wandered out to the deck and I stopped; the view was breathtaking. I couldn’t believe people really lived like this.

  “You never tire of it,” Sarah said seeing my appreciative sweep of the area. We sat down and Jase continued.

  “I went to boarding school with Luke. I was the prefect of our grade and Luke was assigned to my house—Daly House. It was a buddy system and I landed Luke since he was the new kid. We were both twelve and Luke had been boarding in elementary school in the UK and came here to board for the high school years. He was a wild kid—he arrived at that school like he had nothing to lose and he took on any dare, pushed every envelope. It wasn’t until he got into sport and showed promise at soccer and football that he reined it in a bit.”

  “How did he fit in with the other kids?” I asked.

  “They loved him,” Jase said. “He was a ringleader in no time: a good looking kid with a major attitude. You had to have good friendships in boarding school, those relationships became your family and Luke needed family. In no time at all Luke excelled for the school in sport and that made him grow up a bit, he changed and settled in.”

  “Why did he board in the US instead of in the UK near his parents?” I asked.

  Jase glanced to the door again. “His father was doing a lot of business here and I think he wanted to have his son at a prestigious American school for the connections. Never saw him once in all of the years of high school. Luke was the only kid who was farmed out every holiday.”

  Jase looked to Sarah to continue.

  “Jase and I met at a senior dance.” She smiled at him. “I met Luke not long after, so I’ve known him for well over a decade now.” She lowered her voice. “After school, we all went on to college. Luke had a sports scholarship, Jase did law and I did psychology. In all that time I’ve never known Luke to get close to anyone.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Not one long-term girlfriend.”

  Sarah shook her head. Jase looked at his watch, rose and went to the kitchen. He returned and topped up our drinks, placing some pretzels in front of Sarah and me. I thanked him and listened to Sarah talking about their recent struggles with Lucas, pre-me.

  “Up until last year he was like all of us. We’d party, we’d get drunk sometimes, and we’d get over it. He and Jase and Cam—you’ll meet Cameron, he’s the other musketeer,” she said with a smile at Jase, “well Cam got married to Jessica and at the wedding, Luke met a couple of Jessica’s cousins who were a bit wild.”

  “They got him into drugs,” Jase cut to the chase. “Last year he pushed all of us to our limits I can tell you. I’m not making excuses for him because he had a hard childhood or any shit like that. There’s a lot worse off than Luke out there and they’ve had to rise about it. He’s got every opportunity at his fingertips and he just has to pull his head in and get his shit together.”

  Sarah nodded. “Jase and Cam were at the hospital with Luke a lot last year. They tried to clean him up and straighten him out, but it takes a toll on your own health and friendship and... your relationships.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “He’s high maintenance now, let alone under the influence.”

  “But when he’s great, he’s the best.” Sarah smiled.

  Jase agreed. �
�You know Luke might seem full of himself to you now, but he’s a good guy, he’s given a lot back to Cam and me too.”

  “Really?” I said, keen to know more about a younger Lucas who noticed someone else beside himself.

  “I was always a shy kid... bigger than all the others which made me fair game, brainy, not great at sport and when Luke came to board and got assigned to my house, he fought the guys who gave me a hard time. He put an end to it.” Jase shrugged. “Don’t know why we clicked but we did.”

  “Ah maybe a love of cars and all sport helped—even if you were a sideline sports nut and Luke was in the thick of it,” Sarah said, with a roll of her eyes.

  “Yeah maybe that was it.” Jase smiled. “Luke clicked with Cam from day one. Cam was always cutting him up, had us all in stitches. All through med school, Luke was like Cam’s live cadaver if there’s such a thing. Every injury he had he insisted on Cam looking at it, even when Cam was first year. Didn’t hurt Cam’s reputation or future practice.”

  “And Luke was good to me too. When Jase and I met at a school dance, one of my friends got in trouble.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, that kind of trouble. She was sick with worry, and so was I. She wanted to deal with it without her parents ever knowing and Luke got her the money, no questions asked, no refund expected. He went with her as if he was the father so she didn’t have to go with one of her girlfriends or alone. The guy who did it bolted. So of course we were going to stand by Luke when he got in trouble.”

  “But you’ve got to take responsibility too,” Jase said, “and there’s a limit for how much you can help a person.”

  Sarah nodded her agreement. “Yes, people have got to want to change. For fear of sounding too much like a psychologist, Luke has all the characteristics of post-traumatic stress disorder of abandonment.”

  Jase made an agreeing sound. He extended his arm over the chair where he sat and stroked her shoulder.

  “Tell me,” I asked, “like what?”

  Sarah shrugged. “An intense fear of abandonment that interferes in forming primary relationships for starters.”