Playing with Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  She dropped her arms to her sides, suddenly brisk and businesslike again as she performed a half turn. “If we leave now, we can be in Credence by one and I can do another sand of the floor.” She headed in the direction of the exit, and he followed, both of them dodging clusters of people and their pull along bags. “Have you booked your flight home yet?” she asked, not taking her eyes off her path.

  Like Cole needed any further indication she was trying to extricate herself from their…situation. “Not yet.”

  She glanced at him then, the sweep of her gaze on his profile brief and quizzical. “When do you start?”

  “If I take the job? Two weeks.”

  Jane stopping dead in her tracks almost caused a collision with the woman following directly behind. It was only fast reflexes that prevented the crash, not that Jane seemed to register the near miss as she stared at him with a cranky little V between her brows. “You didn’t take the job?”

  Cole also stopped but slid his hand on to her arm and urged her to keep walking beside him. “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Why?”

  “I…don’t know.” He should have said yes on the spot.

  “But…what’s to think about?” she asked as they stepped out of the terminal, a blanket of heat instantly enveloping them, the smell of someone’s cigarette smoke adding to the mix as they came to a halt again away from the main entrance doors. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  She looked genuinely perplexed, and it pissed Cole off. Sportscasting had been his best option at a life that still involved rugby, but did he want it? Really want it? He didn’t know. He wanted to be able to play rugby again, but even that ambition, when he looked at Jane, became fuzzy and indistinct.

  He needed some distance so he could make the right decision for his career. And make it with his head, not his dick. Not his…feelings.

  “Come on,” she said, sliding a hand onto his arm. “It’s this way.”

  But Cole didn’t move. He couldn’t go back to Credence with her. Back to the house. Back to her bed. Because they would end up back in her bed and muddy the decision even further.

  “I’m going to stay in Denver for a couple more days.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Business,” he said, feeling crappy about being vague and lying, but he needed to sort his shit out, and he couldn’t do it with Jane filling him up twenty-four seven. Even now, her hand on his arm was being felt everywhere. “I’ll be back sometime in the week. Pick up my stuff and the rental car.”

  Jane, Tad, and Finn had driven to Denver yesterday in her car rather than messing around with changing Finn’s car seat between the vehicles, and Cole had followed in Tad’s rental, which Tad had returned to the airport today.

  “Sure.” She nodded, and it seemed evenly modulated and reasonable as she dropped her hand, but he could feel her take one more mental step back. And it was another little paper cut. “I can drive you somewhere if you like.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll get an Uber.” He half turned and pointed behind him. “That’s them over there.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll…see you later?”

  “Yup.” Cole jammed his hands in his pockets, shit scared he was going to show that he was much more affected by this than her by reaching over and scooping her up.

  She gave him the saddest of smiles then, hinting at a thousand regrets, before taking two steps backward, turning away, and disappearing into the ebb and flow of the crowd.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cole holed up in a suite at the Sheraton for two days.

  What was the point of having money if he couldn’t splurge, right? The suite was the kind of luxurious he expected at a five-star hotel—sleek and modern, with all the bells and whistles. But the ceiling was a plain, boring, flat plasterboard, and there was no backyard with a love seat and tire swing.

  He watched ESPN, drank little bottles of booze, and ordered room service. The exact thing he’d gone to Credence to do before he’d been sidetracked from his pity party by a woman and a little boy. Mitch rang, left messages, and texted what felt like a thousand times, and Cole ignored all of them as he tried to clear his head and come to a decision about what he wanted.

  Really wanted.

  Unfortunately, the answer kept coming up the same every time—Jane.

  It seemed a person didn’t need to be in the same abode as someone to still think about them all the time. When they were in your head and possibly other parts of your body he refused to dwell on, they went with you everywhere.

  Staying in Denver, staying away from Jane, hadn’t freed up his headspace at all. The way she’d distanced herself that last day after Tad had turned up and her what’s to think about at the airport kept running around his head. The fact she had to ask that, the fact she couldn’t even think that maybe they could talk about a them as another option—exploring it, seeing where it went—told him she wasn’t as caught up in this thing as he was.

  Because he was caught up in it. He didn’t know what it was, but he thought it was…something.

  Jesus. Was he delusional? And when had his career taken a back seat to a woman? When had that happened? Professional career sportsmen were selfish pricks. They had to be. It had to be all about them because it required 100 percent effort to do what they did. Sure, he wasn’t ever going to be an elite athlete again, but that didn’t mean the rest of his career didn’t deserve that kind of focus.

  Which kept bringing him back to the basic fact. He had to say yes to the job. What else was he going to do? Coach? After the clinic he’d run in Credence, he knew he couldn’t be that close to the game. Maybe with time and distance he could do something like that, but not now—probably not for some time. And at least sportscasting still kept him in rugby.

  Kept him in the realm but not at the coalface. Gave him a degree of separation.

  And it was a good package. He was being paid an obscene amount of money for way less work and zero chance of hurting himself again. Maybe permanently this time. It was win/win. A soft place to land with perks worthy of a movie star. The kind of package where free TGIF blow jobs could be thrown in with the deal and nobody batted an eyelid.

  But…none of that really appealed. Neither did going back to Australia and never seeing Jane again. In fact, that felt like a boulder sitting in the pit of his stomach whenever he contemplated it.

  Thank god for little bottles of booze…

  …

  On the third day, Cole was aimlessly flicking through the TV channels during a half-time break in the game he was watching when he saw a commercial for the historic Brown Palace Hotel. He’d been there a couple of times for different events when he lived in Denver and had forgotten about the glorious old building set on its triangular plot with its lovely red sandstone edifice and its soaring atrium.

  It reminded him of Jane, and before he knew it, Cole was getting dressed and heading down to the lobby in the elevator and striding outside. According to Google, the Brown Palace was a four-minute walk, which probably meant a ten-minute walk for him, between the damn cane and his limp, but he hadn’t exercised in days, so it would do him good.

  It took him eight minutes, but Cole felt every one of them. And not just because he was impatient to get where he was going—there was a stiffness to his leg and hip joint, and he cursed his stupidity at being so inactive. The hotel had a gym, and he’d hit it when he got back, because sitting around feeling sorry for himself while he contemplated his life was all well and good, but he couldn’t afford to be complacent.

  Inactivity had physical consequences.

  The liveried doorman opened the door, and within a minute he was being ushered to a table in the center of the lobby and ordering bourbon, staring up into the soaring atrium at the stained glassed ceiling and the large American flag draping down. It was opulent and old-world, and Cole instantly thou
ght about Jane.

  Did she know about this place? Had she ever been here? He wished she was here with him now so he could watch her face light up and listen to her talk about the beautiful filigreed iron panels that bordered the eight balconies that rose above his head. About the lamps and the columns and all the other little architectural flourishes on the arch work.

  And the flooring. God, did he want to hear her talk about the flooring.

  He just wanted to hear her talk, because…her passion was infectious and because he missed her and…a sharp pain lanced right through his middle…god fucking damn it, he loved her.

  A waiter put his drink on the table, and Cole picked it up and threw it down in one hit. “Can I get another?” he asked. The waiter nodded and withdrew, taking the empty glass with him.

  Cole slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, the magnificence of it temporarily lost to him as he absently rubbed his chest. The chatter of the half dozen people around him also enjoying a drink in the lobby dimmed and warbled as if they were coming at him from underwater.

  So this was what love felt like? A heart attack?

  He’d definitely never felt this before.

  God…how was that even possible after a couple of weeks? He knew people fell in love; there was evidence of that all around him. But he didn’t believe in love at first sight. Tad had said he’d known in two hours, but Cole didn’t believe in instalove.

  And yet, here he was, conviction growing in his chest as the pain receded. He was in love with Jane Spencer. He knew it as surely as he knew the echo of his own heartbeat. Somewhere in these past two weeks, he’d fallen and fallen hard.

  Now what the fuck was he going to do about it?

  Sitting forward, Cole shoved his hand into the thick tangle of curls, which he’d pretty much ignored since he’d checked into the Sheraton, so they were now a springy, unruly mess. Not having Jane in his life was unthinkable, but this wasn’t a simple boy-meets-girl-they-fall-in-love-and-live-happily-ever-after situation.

  He lived on the other side of the planet. He had a job offer—a very good one—on the table. Back home. In Australia. And even if he didn’t have that one, Cole had no doubt his agent would manage to secure him something once brands and businesses knew he was looking for something to endorse.

  In Australia.

  But Australia was a long way away from America. A long way away from Jane. And she couldn’t go back with him. As Tad had pointed out so helpfully, there was Finn and her business anchoring her here, and he’d probably get a pair of needle-nose pliers upside the head for even suggesting she and Finn follow him back, and he’d deserve them.

  So, he needed a job here.

  Not that, realistically, he needed a job. Not immediately, anyway. Rugby had paid him very well, and he had a good business manager. He wasn’t Wade Carter rich, but he could probably live off his earnings for some time. But Tad was right, again. Her ex’s lack of proper employment had been a bone of contention between him and Jane, and Cole didn’t want to be another guy in her life sitting around idly while she worked her arse off.

  Besides, it just…wasn’t in him to be idle. Sure, he’d done a pretty good impression of idle the past few days, and he’d endured months of enforced idleness post-injury, but that had driven him stir crazy. He’d been a professional athlete most of his life, and before that he’d been an amateur athlete.

  Before that, he’d been a kid with ants in his pants, just like Finn.

  He was, by nature, an active person, and, at only thirty-two, he had years of working life left in him. He couldn’t just sit around in his mansion, counting his money forever and ever.

  Also, and more importantly, he couldn’t legally stay in America without a job. At the moment, he could only legally stay in the U.S. for ninety days. He was a foreign national—there were laws and regulations around that shit. He couldn’t just walk into the nearest unemployment office and throw himself on their mercy.

  Christ. It wasn’t going to be easy. That pain in Cole’s chest started to niggle again. The more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed, the more panicked he felt. There had to be a way. Other Australians lived and worked in the U.S., right?

  Putting the brakes on his escalating panic, he dragged in a couple of deep, calming breaths. He was going to figure this out if it killed him.

  It hit him then. Mitch. Of course.

  Mitch would know this stuff. He might be an Australian agent, but he’d probably dealt with clients who went overseas to play their chosen sport. He probably had experience and contacts. Maybe he’d even know of someone or a company or a brand that might be willing to sponsor Cole so he could stay in the States.

  The pain subsided again just as the drink arrived, and Cole took a sip this time as he dragged his phone out of his back pocket and hit the last number in his missed calls. It was six a.m. back home, and ordinarily Cole might’ve waited until a more reasonable hour, but this couldn’t wait. The call went to voice mail.

  “This is Cole. Call me,” he said before hanging up.

  He imagined Mitch would probably see a missed called from Cole and call back without checking the message. His agent was desperate for Cole’s answer regarding the sportscaster job, so he wouldn’t mess around. As he was about to place the phone on the table, it started to buzz. Expecting it to be Mitch, Cole was surprised to not recognize the number. But maybe it was Mitch ringing on another number?

  “Hello, Mitch?”

  “No. It’s Doug Swan. Is that you, Cole?”

  Doug Swan. The chief executive of the Australian rugby board? “Ah…yes?” He vaguely remembered Swan coming to visit him in the hospital not long after his accident. “Is everything okay?”

  The top dog didn’t call just to say hi. The only reason he called was to congratulate someone for a huge achievement or to ream someone out for doing something stupid. As far as Cole was aware, he’d done nothing to deserve either.

  “Yes. Just ringing about Ronan Dempsey. Griffin King tells me you’ve been very helpful. Do you have time to chat?”

  Chat? Doug Swan was calling to shoot the breeze? “Um. Sure?”

  Right now, while he waited for Mitch to get back to him, Cole had all the time in the world.

  …

  A week later, Jane stood in the middle of the red sitting room, looking all around her.

  Everything was set for the magazine people to come tomorrow. The furniture had been reinstated by the same moving company from Denver who had moved the furniture out. The rich burgundy drapes, which she’d removed to polish the floors, had been rehung. The parquetry was a patchwork of glossy red tones. The chandelier sparkled like a crown.

  The fireplace, with its newly laid surround of authentic nineteenth-century tiles—that had taken Jane two months to source—looked as good as the day it was first installed. In fact, the room looked like it was brand new. Like she’d stepped back in time and was seeing it as it had been back in its heyday.

  And she’d done that.

  Her effort and her toil and her passion for restoration had powered this project from start to finish, and it was better than she could have ever hoped. But the thrill she’d normally feel was missing, because the one person she really wanted to show it to wasn’t here.

  His car was still parked outside, and his bag was still in his room, but he was conspicuously absent. When he hadn’t arrived by Friday, she’d started to worry that maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere or had already left to go back home, but then he’d texted later that day to tell her he’d been in meetings all week and would be back in Credence sometime early next week.

  Which was now this week.

  She didn’t know what in meetings meant, but she assumed it had to do with the sportscaster job he’d been offered. Because surely he’d accepted the job by now. Maybe there were further negotiations and…o
ther stuff to sort out first. But in that case, why hadn’t he just flown home for them? The job was starting next week.

  Jane hadn’t bothered to answer what was clearly a duty text. It was obvious to her, watching the rugby game last week, that he’d already withdrawn from whatever the hell had been going on between them. Holed away in Credence, in this house, they’d been able to ignore the outside world, but in Denver, the reality of her life—that she had baggage and competing responsibilities—had obviously hit home.

  It couldn’t be all about him. About them.

  She’d clocked the exact second he’d realized the implications and potential impact on his life as their eyes had met across the field. Which had then been driven home, later that night, sharing Wade’s apartment with her ex. And then there had been their awkward parting at the airport.

  No long hug, no lingering see-you-later kiss. No attempt to narrow the distance between them. And she’d had to grind her heels into the pavement to stop herself from doing it, because freaking hell she’d wanted to touch him one last time. Yep, despite everything, despite telling herself not to get too invested in what was just a summer fling born from proximity and a sudden dose of horniness, she’d come to think and feel too much for Cole Hauser already.

  In two weeks. Two freaking weeks. Which was utterly ridiculous.

  But then, why was she crying so bloody much? Why did her chest hurt? And why did this feel worse than finding out Tad had cheated and her marriage breaking up? She hadn’t asked for something like this, and she hadn’t been looking for it, either. For crying out loud, Cole Hauser had only ever been a temporary…lover.

  And he’d left. Because that’s what men did around her. They left.

  Tad had. And now Cole. She was too bossy. And busy. And irritable. Her standards were too high. She was too demanding. She didn’t suffer fools very gladly.

  But she was a busy single mom with a business and a household to run. And now a freaking chameleon to wrangle. There had to be control, or there’d be chaos. Which didn’t make her soft or easy. It didn’t make her fun.