Picking up the remote, Bryce clicked off the movie and stuck his hand out. I didn’t ask. I just trusted him, setting my hand in his.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“I can’t have any more sex,” I mumbled. Until it came out, I didn’t realise I’d said it aloud. I hadn’t meant to.
“And I’m sorry to say you’re not going to get any. All you’re getting, Miss Hardy, is a hot shower then it’s time for bed. It’s already after midnight.”
“Is it?” I asked, shocked. For someone who was usually tucked up by nine, I was mightily impressed by my efforts. I guess staying awake was easy when there was a good incentive. And Bryce Masters might just be the best incentive I could think of.
“Yep. You go jump in the shower and I’ll turn the lights off.”
I didn’t even argue. Instead, I padded through the apartment, trying to make sure my bare arse didn’t poke out from under Bryce’s shirt, giving him a glimpse of my pasty butt.
After a quick shower, I brushed my teeth and climbed into his massive bed. It was so warm and snuggly; I was out before he even joined me.
I woke up aching in all the right places, but alone. That wasn’t much fun. Rolling over, I stole Bryce’s pillow, hugging it to my chest. It smelt like him. Realising I was lying there sniffing a pillow, I threw it as far away as I could get it. I couldn’t afford to be an emotional idiot right now. There was already one of those in this relationship; I wasn’t sure two would survive.
As I waited for my breathing to return to normal, I grabbed my phone. I didn’t even remember putting it there, and I certainly didn’t remember plugging it in to the charger. Unplugging it, I opened it to find I’d been receiving messages all morning, but I hadn’t heard one. It was on bloody silent.
“Fuck!” I squealed. It was after nine and I was lazing about in bed.
Bryce: Morning, Beautiful.
Bryce: Gone to training. Back about 9.30.
Bryce: Your bag is in the wardrobe. Relax. Sleep in. Enjoy. I’ll be back around 9:30 and I’ll take you to breakfast.
Well that explains where he was and why his apartment was so quiet. I had to admit, seeing his message, knowing he hadn’t vanished without a trace had me relieved.
Vanessa: Well?
Sienna: Are you there? Are you alive? Is your vagina worn out yet? Bet it is.
Jessie: Have a great time in Adelaide. Just be you.
Knowing Bryce would be back soon, I didn’t have time to get into individual conversations and dissections about my sex life. Which was, based on last night’s efforts, going to take hours and many, many cocktails to dissect. Instead, I sent a group message which I knew would infuriate them but would provide me with hours of amusement.
Emma: Yep arrived. All good. Can’t talk. Busy fucking and sucking. You know how it goes
Tossing my phone on the bed, I bounced up suddenly full of energy and headed for the bathroom. If Bryce wasn’t here, I was going to enjoy a long hot shower using all of his pulsating jets.
I was just pulling on my boots when I heard the front door close. “Honey, I’m home,” Bryce called out as he sauntered into the bedroom to find me sitting on the end of his bed.
Bending down, he kissed me like he would any normal day. There was something so scarily domestic about the whole situation. Brushing the wet hair from his face, I asked about training.
“It was training. I beat Jake so that’s a win,” he told me proudly.
“Good for you.”
“You ready to go?”
“Ah, I think so? Where are we going anyway?”
“Well, I know what a fan of brunch you are, so I was thinking of taking you to this little hole in the wall café I know down on the beach. They do the best poached eggs.”
My stomach rumbled at his suggestion. I guess after all that cardio I’d done, I’d earnt a decent breakfast. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me to my feet and ushered me out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BRYCE
I knew having Emma here would be awesome, but even I wasn’t expecting to have this much fun. Even with our clothes on we were having a great time. Or at least I was. Yesterday, I’d managed to coax her out of bed before dawn and join me for a run along the beach. Well, I’d run along the beach and Emma had sat with her toes in the sand and sipped her coffee but still.
Each day I made sure we went somewhere and did something, but at night, we holed up at home, ordered in and hung out on the couch. When she challenged me to a game of NBA Live and beat me, I almost proposed to her then and there. I always thought chicks hated gaming. All I ever heard from guys in the locker room was how much their girlfriend or wife or mother, depending on who they lived with, bitched and moaned about their gaming obsessions. Not only was Emma cool with it, but she was a shark.
Then there was the sex. How the hell I was supposed to ever be satisfied again jerking off in the shower when she went back to Sydney in a few days, I had no idea. She was fun, inventive and up for anything in the sack. And somehow it got even better when she initiated.
She still hadn’t told me why she was here. Even though I knew it was important, I didn’t bring it up. I would. I promised myself I would. There was no way she was getting back on the plane on Sunday afternoon without talking to me, but that didn’t mean I was in a hurry to bring our fun to a screeching halt by introducing an unwanted reality.
“Are you sure we have time for this? You have a game tonight,” Emma asked for the millionth time as she climbed into the car.
“Absolutely.” As long as she stopped dawdling and we got on the road, like right now, we’d have enough time to get out to the winery. The plan was to do a few taste tests – well, Emma could taste test; I was driving – enjoy an early lunch and be back before I had to leave for the stadium.
“I’m so excited.” At least that’s what I think I heard. Her high-pitched screech had left me half deaf in one ear, but her smile alone was worth it.
Taking her hand in mine, I held on as I wound our way out of Adelaide and headed for the Barossa Valley. Even though it was only an hour’s drive, by the fourth set of road works we hit I was getting antsy. Being on a time crunch didn’t work for me, and this wasn’t fun. It was supposed to be fun.
My phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth and when Emma shrugged, I hit the accept button.
“What’s up, arsewipe?”
“Arsewipe! Arsewipe! Is that how you answer your phone, Bryce Joseph Masters?”
Emma was looking at me like I’d lost my mind. A bat-shit crazy woman was screaming at me down the phone and I couldn’t stop smiling.
“When this number calls, pretty much.”
“I’m hanging up now. When I call back, I expect a proper hello.” Before I could offer some smart-arse comeback, the dial tone beeped, and the line went dead.
“Who was that?” Emma asked curiously.
“Tash.”
“Ah,” she nodded knowingly.
I’d never deliberately be a bastard. I mean, sometimes it just happened but it wasn’t to be cruel. But when Tash rang from Logan’s phone, what did she expect?
The phone rang again, and Logan’s name flashed on the display. I glanced over at Emma, who was wearing a wicked smile. “Do it.” It was all the encouragement I needed.
“Hey, dickwad, how’s it hanging!”
“Bryce!” she whined, but it was the deep laughter floating down the phone which had me chuckling.
“Be nice, cock smoker,” Logan reminded me.
“Fine. Hello, Natasha. How are you on this fine Friday morning?”
“Nice try. I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Bryce. You playing tonight?”
“Of course.”
“You going to win?”
“You after a scoop?” Sometimes Tash slipped so seamlessly into reporter mode she didn’t even realise she was doing it.
“Cross town rivals. Even Melbourne’s interested in this one,”
she offered unapologetically. It would sting if it weren’t so true.
Melbourne, it seemed, lived and breathed AFL. It didn’t matter if the other teams were winning or losing, we didn’t count. “Yeah I’m in and it should be a good game.”
“Hope so.”
“Me too.”
Beside me Emma was staring out the window picking at her nails. She didn’t seem one bit fazed that I was on a call instead of focusing my attention on her. I kinda liked it. I liked it a lot. But as much as she wasn’t begging for my attention, I wanted to give it to her. I only had her for another couple of days, I needed to make them count.
“So, why are you two busting my balls this morning?”
“Busting your balls? Logan, am I busting Bryce’s balls?” I heard Tash ask. I didn’t catch Logan’s reply, but I could imagine the look on his face as his fiancée talked about someone else’s nuts. I kinda wished we were on a video call right now.
“Anyway, I’m calling to see what you’re doing on October nineteenth?”
“October nineteenth?”
“Yeah.”
“This year?”
“Yes, Bryce. This year. Why are you so difficult?”
“Because I can be. And as far as I know, I’ll be relaxing by a pool somewhere, enjoying a few beers to celebrate being a premiership player,” I declared. At least that was the dream. A dream that was on very shaky ground right now, but the dream, nevertheless.
“Any chance that pool might be in Fiji?” Logan piped up.
“Fiji? Why the hell would I go to Fiji?” I think he’d inhaled too many of Tash’s weirdly scented candles. Guy was going crazy.
Logan’s voice steadied and all the teasing evaporated. “Well, I’m thinking between happy hour and dinner, you might find time to be my best man?”
“What?” I questioned.
“Our wedding, Bryce,” Tash confirmed. “Logan wants you there. Will you come?”
“Are you sure it’s just Logan that wants me there?” I teased, and Emma snickered.
“Are you not alone in your car, Bryce?” Tash asked, suddenly panicked.
“No, I’m not. Emma’s here. Em, say hi to Logan and his crazy-arse fiancée.”
“Hey, Tash,” Emma said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Hey! You’re there. In Adelaide. Why? And please don’t tell me it’s to see the douche canoe sitting next to you.”
“Well, he is taking me to a winery.”
“Fine. I’ll allow it,” Tash huffed. “But back to the wedding, Bryce I’m putting you down as coming. Okay?”
Tash may have made it sound like a question, but it was anything but. There was no way I was getting out of that one, not that I’d ever want to.
“And Emma, you need to steal Bryce’s phone and text me your number so we can chat about what day you and Sienna can fly in. I’m thinking three days before so we can relax, indulge in a few cocktails served to us by hot, shirtless Fijians…”
“And that’s enough of that.” Logan cut that thinking off very quickly. Smart man.
“I can’t come to your wedding. You don’t even know me,” Emma objected quickly.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Bryce dismissed it.
“Fine. We’ll leave you two love birds to your romantic day in the country. Bryce, behave. Good luck tonight. And, Emma, have a blast. If shit for brains there gives you any crap, you call me, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Sure you will, Tash,” I taunted.
“Are you forgetting what I know about you, Bryce?” Fuck! Yep. I was. Tash had so much dirt on me she could fill a quarry.
“We’re going now. People to call. Joy to spread.”
“Good luck, Mama.”
“Mama? What the fuck? Where did that come from?” Tash bit just as I knew she would. She might think she had all the power, but we were equals and sometimes she needed reminding of that. Something I preferred to do when there was a safe distance, like a few hundred kilometres between us.
“You’re knocked up, aren’t you? Surely that’s the reason for the quickie wedding out of the public’s watchful eye. Don’t you want your bump plastered across the front page?”
“Dude, her head is about to pop clean off. Seriously, I can see steam billowing from her ears,” Logan warned.
“Tread very carefully, Bryce. Or you might not like what happens.”
Tash liked to talk a big game but that’s all it was. Talk. She’d never spill my secrets, not publicly anyway. The exact same as I’d never tell hers. And I’d never let her down either. “Guys, I’m happy for you. And yes, I’ll definitely be there on the nineteenth and, Logan, if you want me standing beside you, then I’m there.”
“Thanks,” Logan acknowledged.
“Well, we gotta go, we’re just pulling up. Emma’s ready for her first glass,” I told them as I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition.
“Have fun,” Logan offered.
“Will do,” I confirmed as I went to disconnect but before I could end the call, Tash had to have the last word. As always.
“Bryce and Emma sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes…”
Leaning over me, Emma called out, “Bye, Tash,” and slammed her hand down on the disconnect button.
Sitting there in the silence of the car, we were both leaning back in our seats staring at each other. “Did that really just happen?” Emma asked.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep. Welcome to my life.” What more was there I could say?
Lunch was awesome. The whole day had been amazing. It’d taken some convincing on my part to get Emma to actually taste the wines not just wander around the gardens. She didn’t want to drink on her own, especially in the middle of the day, but since I was driving and had a game tonight, there was no way I was taking a sip. After eating way too much salami and cheeses out in the sun on the patio of one of the wineries, we headed back to town. As I drove, Emma napped, and she was freaking adorable. She made these cute little snorting sounds and murmured as she dozed. I spent way too long trying to figure out what she was mumbling about. In the end, I declared it gibberish and let it go.
“Come on, Em. You can take my car. Drop me at the stadium and then go do whatever for a while then you can come back for the game. I’ve organised you a ticket…”
I was standing in the entry way, my bag thrown over my shoulder, spinning the car keys on my finger. Right now, though, instead of heading to the stadium to get ready for tonight, I was standing here learning something new about the woman pouting across the other side of the room. She was as stubborn as a mule.
“No. I’m not driving your car!” She stomped her foot.
“Why? It’s just a car,” I lied. My car was my baby and I didn’t just hand the keys over to anyone, but for Emma I was willing to make an exception. If she knew just how big of a deal that was for me, I wondered if she’d see things differently.
“No, it’s your car. You drive it.”
“And how are you going to get there then?”
“I don’t have to come. You’ve got a gigantic TV screen. I can just stay here, snoop through your stuff and watch it on TV.”
“Emma… you’re coming tonight,” I growled, making sure she knew staying home wasn’t an acceptable option.
I think she got the hint. Stepping forward, she ditched the attitude with each step before wriggling into my arms. And like the complete sucker I was, I didn’t even consider denying her. Not even for a second.
“Fine, I’ll come.” She popped up on her toes and kissed me quickly.
“But how…”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get an Uber. I’ll be fine. But you, you need to go. I expect a big game out of you tonight, Mister Masters.”
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her tightly against me. I loved playing AFL. I loved that I got to play the game that I loved and even better, I got paid to do it. Right now, though, r
ight now I was wondering if they had a sick policy. Knowing coach, though, you’d probably have to produce your own death certificate to skip a game.
“There’ll be a ticket left for you at the box office. Just check under your name. Then I’ll meet you after. Okay?”
“Fine. Now scat!”
“What are you going to do this afternoon?”
With a mischievous shrug, she moved into the lounge room and tugged open the first drawer she came to. “Look for buried treasure?”
I had to go.
I had to leave, like right now.
It wasn’t easy, though.
“Well, see if you can find the good porn. I spent a lot of time hiding it.” With her jaw hanging open, I left her standing there and headed off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EMMA
I was having a blast.
I’d arrived at the gates early, keen to people-watch. It was what I loved best about the games Sienna had dragged me to in Sydney, and I was keen to see if it was any different here in Adelaide. It wasn’t. If anything, it was Sydney on steroids. Families piled in dressed in their team colours, their faces painted, flags waving. Feeling underdressed in my jeans, jumper and jacket I found myself standing in front of a merchandise tent. I knew if I wanted anything all I would’ve had to do was ask Bryce and it would’ve appeared, but that wasn’t me. That wasn’t the sort of girl I wanted to be. Besides, my way was more fun. After grabbing a scarf and jersey, one conveniently with the number eighteen plastered across the back, I sauntered up to the box office.
Checking my messages again, Bryce had told me to go to gate three and give them my name and they’d have my ticket waiting. He told me I’d be sitting with the other wives and girlfriends. As lovely a gesture as it was, I wasn’t ready for that. Not on my own anyway. I had no idea what Bryce and I were doing, we were definitely having fun but anything beyond that, I was clueless. Instead, I bought a ticket in the stands and headed for my seat.
Played (Playing Games Book 2) Page 18
