Playing with Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  “Lotta countries out there have amazing teams. Amazing programs.”

  “That’s true,” Cole said. “Europe has very healthy league competition. Very lucrative. Italy, France…others. They’re all very good.”

  “They are,” Ronan agreed. “Australia, too.” He paused for a second. “Of course, it’s all about the coach, really. That’s the ultimate decider for me.”

  “Yep. That’s wise.” Ronan Dempsey was smart. Strategic. That would get him a long way. He could make a lot of money, or he could be up there with the best. It was gratifying to see that he recognized the difference. “Any coaches in particular on your hit list?”

  “Well, sure…I mean, who wouldn’t want to be coached by Griffin King?”

  Every hair on Cole’s body stood on end. He’d never been more idle in his life on a rugby pitch, but he’d also never felt so energized. Sure, it was a different kind of energy but no less real. The adrenaline rush was real. He and Ronan Dempsey were standing around talking—not even talking straight—they were having a conversation inside a conversation. But he was pumped!

  “Right?”

  “He’s one of the best. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he is the best. Why he’s not coaching the national team, I don’t know.”

  No one really knew the answer to that, other than he’d turned it down continually for years. Cole suspected, as did pretty much everyone else, that the tragic and accidental death of his daughter many years ago had left him deeply wounded and intensely private. But it wasn’t his place to speculate, and he was as closemouthed about Griff with outsiders as any other member of the team.

  “Their loss is the Smoke’s gain.” Your gain, he wanted to say but didn’t. “Well…” He stuck out his hand again. “It was great meeting you. Whatever happens, you’re going to have an amazing career.”

  If Ronan was disappointed that this conversation seemed to go nowhere, he didn’t show it as he shook, which led Cole to believe he’d had this type of conversation more than once.

  So, the sharks were circling…

  “You got a card?” he asked.

  A card? Jesus. Now that he hadn’t expected. Cole hadn’t thought about anything so fancy. This was just a conversation. A favor. Not his job. But it would be a good idea to have a contact number for Ronan. He unlocked his phone and handed it to the younger guy. “Put your number in here.”

  Ronan smiled as he took the phone, and Cole glanced around, wondering where Finn had gotten to. His heart seized in his chest as he caught sight of him with Jane. They were standing in a little circle, talking to a couple of the other Barbarian players. One of Finn’s arms was hooked around his mother’s leg, the other hooked around his father’s, as a fly half showed Finn a neat trick with the ball, spinning it on his index finger. Finn was staring with rapt attention, paying no heed to Jane’s hand absently on his head sifting through his hair or Tad’s hand resting easy on his shoulder.

  Tad said something that made Finn look up at him like he hung the fucking moon and laughed. The vision slugged Cole straight in the center like a ball catapulting into his gut. It’d been easy the past couple of weeks with Tad dicking around in Las Vegas to think of Finn as fatherless. To feel a connection with the boy born from their shared fatherlessness. But Finn wasn’t fatherless.

  Sure, Tad obviously had reliability issues, but it was clear he loved his son—and, as Jane had mentioned, when he was present, he was present, being super attentive and engaging with Finn since he’d landed on them this morning. Maybe that was an act, but Tad was very comfortable in this role, supremely confident in his relationship with his son, and Finn certainly wasn’t faking his feelings for his father.

  They looked like…a family.

  Jesus. What was he doing? Dallying in Credence? Spinning god knew what kind of fantasies with a woman and a kid he’d known for two weeks. Why hadn’t he rung Mitch and told him to take the job offer? What was he waiting for? What was he hoping for?

  He didn’t belong here. He should go back to Australia. Become a talking head on the TV.

  So why did the mere thought of it make his chest tight?

  Finn chose that moment to look over at him. He grinned that little-boy grin, then waved excitedly, and Cole smiled despite the knife slicing through his heart. He waved him over, and Finn didn’t hesitate, running at his usual breakneck speed. Cole braced for the impact to his legs, laughing as two little arms went around his thighs.

  Jane was still in his line of vision, and he glanced up. She was smiling affectionately at her son. It faded as she raised her gaze and connected with Cole’s, her expression way more guarded.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed. “Much appreciated.”

  Cole’s heart banged like a funeral march in his chest as those two words—much appreciated—took him back to the beginning. He’d thought they’d moved past all that. She was withdrawing. Hitting rewind.

  Pushing him away.

  “This your boy?”

  Cole dragged his attention from Jane, momentarily disoriented by Ronan and his question as Finn beamed up at them. No. He stroked Finn’s head. Not his boy.

  “No. That’s my daddy over there,” Finn piped up, one skinny little index finger pointed to Tad. “This is my Cole.” He grinned up at Cole again, and Cole’s heart squeezed like a broken old piano accordion in his chest, wheezing and out of tune.

  “This is Finn,” Cole said, pulling himself together to perform the introductions. “He’s my little mate, aren’t you?”

  Cole wouldn’t have thought Finn’s grin could get any bigger. But it did. The little blond head nodded vigorously. “Like on Bluey.”

  Ronan smiled but was obviously puzzled by the reference. “Don’t worry,” Cole said. “I have a feeling you’re going to know an awful lot about Bluey in the coming years.”

  If Ronan moved to Australia, it’d be hard to escape the Bluey obsession.

  “Okay then,” Ronan said cheerfully and held out his hand for Finn to shake, which he did with much solemnity. “How old are you, Finn?”

  “Four.”

  “You like rugby?”

  Finn gave another vigorous nod. “Yes. Cole showed me how to play.”

  “Well, you’re one lucky kid. Cole’s very famous.”

  Cole cringed a little at the over-the-top statement as Finn gaped up at him. “You are?” He was obviously surprised at the news. “I thought you lived in Australia, not Hollywood.”

  He laughed then, loving the mental leaps of a four-year-old mind. “I do. And I’m not famous.”

  Ronan shrugged. “He is to me.”

  Finn’s arm tightened around Cole’s legs. “Me, too.”

  Ronan ruffled Finn’s hair this time. What was it with children’s hair that just made people want to ruffle it? “You want to be in the Cole Hauser fan club with me?”

  “Yes please.” Finn’s eyes lit up, and when Ronan presented his fist, Finn automatically gave it a bump. Like he’d been fist-bumping rugby players for decades. “You were really good,” Finn said.

  “Yeah?” Ronan grinned, clearly enjoying the boy’s admiration.

  “Yup.” Finn nodded like he was a professional rugby pundit. “Cole said you were a bloody natural.”

  Ronan laughed, and Cole almost choked as his words were parroted back. By a four-year-old. He really needed to be careful what he said around the kid. Tad probably already knew that.

  “Ronan!”

  “Sorry.” Ronan tipped his chin at the Barbarians coach who’d done the hollering. “I gotta go.”

  “No worries,” Cole said, shaking his hand once again.

  “If you’re sticking around Denver, give me a call. I’d love to shoot the breeze with you, man.”

  “Ah…sure.”

  Cole didn’t think Ronan was trying to curry favor or even take advantage; he see
med genuinely interested in chatting rugby, and Cole totally understood. If the positions had been reversed, he’d want to hear all the old war stories, too. But the truth was, he had no idea what he was going to do next.

  He had planned on going back to Credence tomorrow with Jane. Finn was going back to California with his father. They’d be alone. No small boy or Houdini reptile to distract them. But now…he wasn’t sure. He glanced at Jane, still deep in conversation with the Barbarian’s fly half, and wished there wasn’t so much noise going on in his head when he looked at her. How was he supposed to decide anything about his future when just looking at her caused his head to fill and his chest to cramp and his groin to tighten?

  His concentration was shot around Jane Spencer.

  Ronan tapped the phone in Cole’s hand. “Call me. You have my number.”

  That seemed a little more pointed, but Ronan didn’t press anymore, just presented his fist to Finn again. “Hope to see you around, little dude.”

  Finn dutifully bumped. “Bye, Ronan,” he said and watched as the big American rugby player strode away. “C’mon, Cole.” Finn tugged on his hand. “Let’s go back to Mommy.”

  Cole resisted the pull, and not just because he wasn’t sure if Mommy wanted him to go back at all. “You go on.” He smiled reassuringly at the boy. “I need to make a call.”

  “Okay,” Finn agreed readily, skipping away with as much passion and commitment to it as he employed to his running.

  Cole watched until he reached his mother, then dragged his eyes off Jane’s hand sliding around Finn’s little shoulders, forcing himself to concentrate on his phone. He hit the top number in his recent calls list and waited for it to pick up. He doubted it would take long and was unsurprised when it only rang twice.

  “Well?” the gruff voice of Griffin King demanded.

  “He’s the real deal.”

  …

  The next morning at just after nine, Cole was standing outside an airport bookshop while Jane took Finn to the restroom opposite and Tad browsed the shelves for something to read. Last night, they’d all dined at Olive Garden and gone back to Wade’s luxury apartment with its amazing view of the Rockies and Mile High Stadium, where once, a long time ago, Cole had actually walked and played on the hallowed turf.

  It’d been a strange night, and Cole had hit the sack early, tired of feeling like a stranger now that the trio had become a quartet. Like he was suddenly on the outside looking in and something he’d never had himself and never really thought he’d wanted for himself was utterly out of reach. Which was irrational and exhausting, so it was better to be away from it.

  But he’d tossed and turned all night on the couch in the third bedroom, which was done up as an office. The couch was like a fucking cloud compared to some he’d slept on in his life, but he still hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about Jane. Knowing she was under the same roof and that she wasn’t coming to him was an utterly miserable feeling.

  And it wasn’t about missing her physically and the sex he wasn’t getting, but about how much he’d just wanted to hold her. How much he missed listening to her talk about his damn stamped tin ceiling or common tile patterns in nineteenth-century fireplaces. He missed the sound of her voice and her snuggling into him, playing with his chest hair.

  He’d wished she was beside him so he could…ground himself. Could ask her what he should do and why he was feeling so damn confused. Should he take the job, and if so, what did that mean for them?

  Except there wasn’t a them, was there? There was Jane and Finn. And Jane and Finn and Tad. There wasn’t a Jane and Finn and Cole. He was…god, what was he?

  Much appreciated?

  “Are you in love with her?”

  Cole had been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard Tad approaching, and the question hit him like a grappling hook to the face. His jaw clenched as he glanced at the other man, the latest Rolling Stone magazine in his hand. “It’s been two weeks,” he said, even as a pressure started in his chest.

  Tad gave him an almost sympathetic smile. “I knew after two hours.”

  Cole was well aware he wasn’t the only man to have been in Jane’s life, but this douche had cheated on her. Hurt her. He didn’t want to reminisce with Tad. He sure as hell didn’t want to confide in him. “And how long did it take her to fall for you?”

  He gave a half laugh. “She’s a little more…measured them I am.”

  Yeah. No shit. And then, fuck it, he asked the question he really wanted to ask. “Are you still in love with her?”

  He didn’t think Jane was still in love with her ex. In fact, she’d sounded pretty fucking exasperated with him. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t still some of the old feelings left, and if Tad felt the same way, then maybe, given the right circumstances, that love could be rekindled.

  Or so he’d read, anyway.

  And if Jane was still holding a flame for Tad, then what was he even doing? Why would he get in the middle of that, when Finn could have his mum and dad back together? A father he clearly adored. Tad wasn’t Cole’s father. He may need to address his priorities, but he wasn’t an abusive asshole.

  Maybe they could be a family again…

  “No.” Tad shook his head. “I mean, I’ll always love her. She was the first girl I ever loved, and she’s the mother of my child. But I’m not in love with her. I was for a while after we split, but not anymore. I’ve realized I’m not a one-woman-forever kinda guy.”

  Cole shuddered. Christ. That sounded awful. “Hey…whatever floats your boat.”

  Tad laughed. “I like it. It suits me.” He regarded Cole for a beat or two. “Look…I had something great, and I messed it up. That was probably always destined to happen because I’ve always been a bit of a screwup, but Jane deserves better.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Tad gave a brisk nod, clearly not insulted by Cole thinking he was a screwup. “Now…correct me if I’m wrong, but you live in Australia, right? And she has a kid and a family and roots and a business she’s proud of that she built from the ground up here. On the other side of the world from you and your life. And dude, from what I’ve read, you don’t even have a job right now, and that’s been a pretty big bone of contention between Jane and me, so…if you can’t give her what she needs, then stop messing with her. She’s a good person, and she doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”

  Cole’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like that he was agreeing with Tad this much. But for her to be hurt, she’d have to care, to be invested in what they were doing. There’d have to be…feelings. They hadn’t talked about that. Or what came after. They’d talked a bit about their pasts but had mostly lived in the present.

  They certainly hadn’t talked about the future.

  “There they are,” Tad announced as Finn bolted out of the restroom and ran across the terminal to his father, expertly dodging a dozen or so people in the process. Jane followed at a more sedate pace. She was in capris and a T-shirt, her hair loose, and feelings crowded Cole’s chest.

  Well fuck…

  An hour later, he was waving to Finn as he disappeared through security, holding his father’s hand on one side and Carl in his small carry cage in the other. He didn’t know if Jane was going to cry or not, but he sure as hell felt a burning pressure behind his eyes, and he’d cried once in his adult life—when his mother had died.

  Not even those painful months after the accident or when it had become evident he wasn’t going to play rugby again. But looking at the bob of that little blond head as he walked away from them, emotion welled in his chest. It was probably the last time he was ever going to see the kid.

  Yes, he’d assured Finn that he’d come and visit him in California, because Finn had been upset Cole was going back to Australia soon and he wouldn’t see him again. But the reality of that was…unlikely. And he just hoped Finn would
soon forget him.

  Watching him now, chatting merrily to Tad as he skipped along beside him, it looked like he already had.

  He slid a look sideways. Jane was still waving and smiling—just in case, Cole supposed—and it wasn’t until Tad and Finn turned a corner with one final wave in their direction that she dropped her hand and her smile and turned to face him.

  “What were you and Tad talking about before? When we were in the restroom?”

  If she was emotional about Finn leaving, she wasn’t showing it. Or maybe she was and it was morphing into that old irritability from their first days together.

  Their much-appreciated days.

  The feeling that she was walking this—whatever it was—back returned. She was distancing herself. It was frightening how quickly the closeness they’d shared the past couple of weeks had evaporated. In less than a day, they were back to the beginning again, wary and standoffish.

  “I guess he was…warning me off. Looking out for you.”

  “Oh Jesus. Are you serious?” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “What the hell is it with guys? I don’t need either of you looking out for me like I’m some nineteenth-century ingenue.”

  “I know.” And he did know. He hadn’t started the conversation, for crying out loud. “Are you still in love with Tad?”

  “What?” she squeaked as her frown morphed into a glare.

  Cole shrugged. He hadn’t planned on asking that question, because he was pretty sure he knew the answer, but suddenly he needed to hear it—out loud. From her lips. “I know he exasperates you, but you get along very well. You seem…close, still.”

  “Yes, he does exasperate me. No, I’m not in love with him. But he’s Finn’s father. He’s always going to be in my life. Always. Because he’s always going to be in Finn’s life. So I’d rather it be pleasant for everyone concerned than adversarial.”

  That all seemed eminently sensible, but no, I’m not in love with him was pretty much the only thing Cole heard. A very definitive answer to his question, and a flood of who-knew-the-fuck-what rushed through his veins.