by Amy Andrews
Eleanor’s patience snapped loud enough to be heard on the other side of the planet. She’d had just about as much as she could take of her brother’s carry on. “I’m sorry, but did I miss something?” she demanded. “He is your best friend, isn’t he?”
“He was.”
“Have I not heard you say a thousand times what a great bloke he is?”
Ryder crossed his arms and stared at her with a sullen set to his jaw, not happy with her application of logic. “Bodie’s the best,” Juliet confirmed when Ryder clearly wasn’t going to answer.
Ryder shot her another exasperated look but she just smiled at him pleasantly as Bodie nodded and said, “Damn straight I am.”
“So if he’s a great bloke, if he’s the best, and he’s good enough to be your best friend, why is it so shocking that I’d like him, that I’d want to be with him? Or is it too hard to wrap your head around anyone wanting your ugly duckling sister?”
Bodie squeezed her waist as Ryder shoved a hand through his hair. “Jesus…Nell…of course not.”
“Fuck, Ryder.” Her brother’s eyebrows shot up at her profanity. She’d shocked herself, too, but she wasn’t sorry. “My name is Eleanor.”
Ryder shook his head like he couldn’t take in any of what was going down. He started to pace again. “I just don’t understand it. This is so…crazy and sudden and just not you…” His gaze searched hers. “I mean, what’s the fucking rush? Unless you’re—”
He stopped pacing abruptly, and Eleanor saw the exact moment the penny dropped. “Jeezus…you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
Maybe Bodie, the poker player, could have bluffed it out, but Eleanor was lousy at cards. She dropped her gaze, but it was too late. She could tell he’d seen the truth.
Ryder cut his gaze to Bodie, the glare back. “She’s pregnant?”
Bodie shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”
Ryder took a step toward Bodie and adrenaline shot through Eleanor’s system. Ryder wouldn’t hit his best friend and teammate, surely? Juliet slid her hand onto Ryder’s arm again and he didn’t advance any closer, but he clenched his hands.
“You didn’t even use condoms?”
“Of course we did,” Bodie snapped. He was clearly as done with Ryder’s crap as she was.
“Christ.” Ryder took a deep breath, and Eleanor felt a little sorry for him. It was rare to see Ryder at a loss. He shook his head at Bodie. “When were you going to tell me you were sleeping with my sister, man?”
Eleanor ignored the note of injury in her brother’s voice. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might cause a rift between Ryder and Bodie. “He wanted to tell you on Monday. I asked him to hold off until this weekend when I ring Mum and Dad to tell them of my real whereabouts.”
“And when are you planning on telling them about the baby?”
“Not yet. In a few weeks. After the first trimester. So please, just don’t say anything, okay?”
She appealed to him with her eyes, but Ryder didn’t seem to be comprehending very much. “He won’t,” Juliet assured.
“They’re going to worry.”
Guilt twinged in her abdomen. She didn’t need her brother to tell her how her parents would react. They’d be supportive of course but they would worry, for all the reasons Ryder was—because it was so rushed and so out of character.
But this was her life.
She raised her chin. “Just as well, I can take care of myself.”
Bodie looked directly at Ryder. “They don’t need to worry.”
Ryder’s jaw was still set tight but he seemed more resigned now as he glanced at his sister, the puff gone from his chest. “And this is what you want? What happened to romance and courtship?”
An unexpected pang of longing hit Eleanor in the chest. She’d resigned herself to the mismatch of the fantasy and her reality the day she’d decided to move in with Bodie.
Or so she’d thought.
“This is what I want.” She wanted Bodie. She wanted their baby.
Ryder sighed heavily, clearly not happy. But her brother didn’t get a say in her life. Neither did her parents. Ryder flicked a look at Bodie. “You shouldn’t have slept with her behind my back, man.”
The hard line of Bodie’s shoulders relaxed as the tension in the room dialled down. “I know.”
Ryder glanced at Juliet, who smiled at him sympathetically and gave his arm a squeeze. “Now that’s off everyone’s chests, I think we should probably leave these guys to their evening, yeah?” She smiled at Eleanor. “Sorry for interrupting your night and congratulations on your pregnancy.” Juliet came forward and hugged and kissed Eleanor while both Ryder and Bodie stood stiffly. “We should get together for a coffee or something soon?”
“Oh…yes.” Eleanor smiled at Juliet, surprised and pleased at the invitation. “I’d like that.”
And then Juliet was dragging Ryder out of the apartment, crossing over with the food delivery guy who handed over their meal. Bodie shut the door after him, placing the food on the floor as he turned to face Eleanor, leaning against the solid metal for support.
“Well. That went well.” His shoulders were slumped as he rubbed at his neck and a fresh surge of guilt washed through her system.
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to avoid something like that.”
“I’m fine.” He shrugged it off like a rift with his best friend was no biggie. “Are you okay?”
She waved a dismissive hand as she moved closer to him. “Ryder will get over it. He was just blowing off steam.”
“Yeah, I know.” And Eleanor supposed he did know. Bodie and her brother were pretty tight, after all.
Or had been, anyway.
“But…was he right about your parents? Will they worry?”
Eleanor slid a hand onto his bare chest as soon as she was close enough. It was warm and smooth, and she couldn’t believe she was the lucky woman who got to touch him like this whenever she wanted.
“They’re parents. That’s what they do.”
His inky blue eyes darkened to indigo. “I am going to take care of you.”
She smiled. “I know.” And she raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him. She didn’t need him to take care of her. As she’d told Ryder, she could take care of herself. But damn if it didn’t go straight to the cockles of her romantic heart that he wanted to.
She broke off, and he groaned as he nuzzled her neck. “I feel terrible that Ryder found out like that.”
Eleanor did, too. She wished it had been different, but she couldn’t wind back time. She could help make things a little easier to bear though. Quickly, she grasped the hem of her jersey and whipped it off over the top of her head.
“Does this help?”
His eyes almost popped out of his head as he checked out every naked inch of her skin, his gaze lingering on the flashy ruck me invitation. “You know, it really does.”
And then he swept her off her feet and carried her up the stairs to the loft.
Chapter Eleven
Eleanor held out for a week against Bodie’s entreaty to come and watch him play. She wanted to, but things were still apparently strained between Ryder and Bodie and she wasn’t sure her presence in the corporate box would smooth things over any. Add to that her social ineptness, and it had potential disaster written all over it.
It was a relief on one hand to have their relationship out in the open as far as her family went. Her parents had been puzzled and concerned by her out-of-character announcement, as she’d known they would be. Her father had been stilted and her mother had that disappointed tone in her voice she’d always used to good effect.
The tone that said this is your life but I don’t think you’re making the best decision.
It still made her squirm. God alone knew how much more earnest it would become when they found out she was pregnant. But they hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, for which she was grateful.
Her sisters had been agog. They’d each rung and exclaimed o
ver her secrecy and congratulated her on her new boyfriend. Lisa has gone further, brandishing Bodie as a seriously hot choice to finally do the deed with and she hoped that Eleanor was hitting that like crazy.
She should have been miffed over her sister’s degree of surprise, but Lisa was right, Bodie was seriously hot and she totally was hitting that like crazy.
But, as far as she was aware, no one on the team knew apart from Ryder. Bodie hadn’t been keen to announce it with her brother still acting like a caveman, which meant that, unless Juliet had told the other WAGs, her presence in the corporate box would probably raise eyebrows.
Her plan was to go in the guise of Ryder’s sister. She’d met a lot of the WAGs at the engagement party—although she’d felt invisible in their glamorous presence—so she was sure she could pull it off. But her nervousness in social situations wasn’t as easy to bluff her way through.
In fact, by the time Eve—Griffin King’s PA—was ushering her into the corporate box on game night, her mouth was so dry her tongue was practically stuck to the roof of her mouth. What was she doing? She was a shy, newly deflowered, pregnant, country-hick-book-nerd who was fluent in nineteenth century but terrible at the art of modern chit chat.
She wished Bodie was here. Bodie somehow made her forget about all those things. How could she pull this off in front of a dozen glamazons?
She thanked God she was wearing one of her many handmade corsets that gave a little nod to the steam punk style and an A-line skirt, which allowed her to wear a pair of those crotchless pantaloons that drove Bodie crazy. She stuck out like a pimple on a pumpkin amongst all the designer denim and Smoke jerseys, but Eleanor transformed into a different person in these clothes and she needed that kind of confidence.
Eve was just about to introduce Eleanor when one of the women said, “Hey, you’re Ryder’s sister, right? Nell?”
“Eleanor,” she corrected, her pulse spiking at the sudden interest from a room full of women who looked like they’d all stepped off a Parisian catwalk.
“Eleanor.” Juliet crossed the room and kissed her cheek, ushering her into the room. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight. It’s so good to see you again.”
“Thanks,” Eve said, shooting Juliet a relieved smile. “If you would do the honours? I’ve got to take Liam his puffer.”
Eleanor watched Eve go and wished she could go with her. The older woman was all brisk efficiency instead of blinding glamour and Eleanor wanted to cling to her. “Who’s Liam?” And why did they let a guy who needed an asthma puffer play rugby?
“It’s Eve’s sixteen-year-old son,” said the woman who had first spoken. “He’s the water boy at home games.” She held out a glass of champagne, which Eleanor politely refused. “I’m Kathy Trimble, John’s wife.”
There was a dizzying round of introductions performed by Juliet. Eleanor remembered most of the faces from the engagement party and her face ached from her fixed smile. A waiter entered the box then with a platter of nibbles. Eleanor’s stomach grumbled and her mouth watered. She’d felt mildly nauseated this morning and had, consequently, barely eaten.
But when the platter came her way a waft of curry hit her and nausea—sudden, hot, and bilious—left her in a cold sweat. She actually reared back from the platter, placing her hand over her mouth and nose as she clutched at her stomach with the other.
“No thank you,” she managed to just choke out at the startled look on the waiter’s face.
She didn’t miss the speculative glances from the women, either, and forced herself to drop both hands and smile. She could see them thinking no champagne and turning green at food. She could see them putting two and two together.
And getting four.
But then Juliet rescued her, dragging her over to the big floor-to-ceiling glass window, for which she was grateful, even if her legs did suddenly feel about as supportive as tin foil.
“You okay?” she asked under her breath.
Eleanor nodded. And she was. Now. As quickly as it had arrived, the nausea was gone and her heart rate was settling. But she sure as hell was steering clear of curry for the next thirty weeks.
She looked absently out over the lit field, a light drizzle forming a fine mist over the middle. It hadn’t deterred any of the fans, though. Not if the rapidly filling stadium was any indication.
“Ball’s going to be slippery,” someone said.
“So will the pitch,” someone else said, and there were general murmurs about injury and poor visibility.
“I love your top.”
And just like that, the conversation shifted as Valerie, Griff King’s daughter, a willowy redhead with freckles, complimented her. “Where did you get it from?”
Instantly, Eleanor relaxed, morphing into her kooky nineteenth-century persona, coming alive under the interest of the other women who were genuinely fascinated by her business. They asked a string of questions and Eleanor gave out half a dozen cards, which took them right up to kickoff.
“I suppose you know all there is to know about rugby, growing up with Ryder.” Matilda, Tanner Stone’s wife, smiled at her as they stood side by side in front of the glass. “But just holler if you want to know anything.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Here they come.” Harper, Dexter’s wife, nodded at the line of men running onto the field. Their baby was asleep in a pram in the back corner of the room.
“I love this bit.” Lincoln Quinn’s fiancée Em was close enough to the window for her bouncy caramel curls to brush the glass. “Before they all get crunched and smashed. I still can’t get used to the brutality of it.”
“Go hard or go home,” Val quipped.
“There’s Ryder,” Harper said, nudging Eleanor’s arm and pointing.
Eleanor could see Juliet smiling behind the rim of her champagne glass. She was the only woman in the room who knew who Eleanor was really here to see.
The women made general conversation around her as they waited for the start of the game. Eleanor tuned into the low commentary running from the wall-mounted television behind them and tried not to openly ogle Bodie who looked even hotter than usual all pumped up on the field.
The television commentators were talking about the weather and she absently wondered how heavy the rain needed to get before a game was called off. Too much longer and those uniforms were going to be clinging even more than they did now. It probably wasn’t appropriate to be hoping for that.
But she made a mental note to push Bodie into the shower in his uniform.
The ring of boot against leather could be heard even from inside the box and the game commenced. Eleanor didn’t say a lot as it progressed. The women were all vocal supporters and all obviously close knit, and she was happy to let their conversation wash around her. Try as she might, though, she didn’t feel like she belonged here, despite how welcoming they were.
It felt too…surreal.
Up until a couple of weeks ago, she was cattle crutching by day and working on a commission for a playhouse in Adelaide at night. And now she was living in the city and rubbing shoulders with WAGS. If her and Bodie got married—her heart fluttered like butterfly wings at the thought of it—she’d be a WAG!
“What the hell are they doing?”
Eleanor tuned back into the game at Kathy Trimble’s surprised enquiry. Ryder and Bodie appeared to be having words in the centre of the field.
Eleanor tensed. So did Juliet.
It was over as quickly as it had started though and they both relaxed a little, but Eleanor could hear the low buzz of speculation in the commentator’s voices. And Griff, the only guy not wearing a spray jacket on the sidelines, his big mane of hair plastered to his head, didn’t seem very happy, either.
Juliet patted her arm as the game played on. “I’m sorry.” She kept her voice low. “He’ll calm down. He just needs to beat his chest and be a Neanderthal for a bit.”
Eleanor smiled. Being a little too acquainted with her brother and
his inner caveman, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t really know her future sister-in-law well, but she liked her.
A lot.
The game progressed as if nothing had happened until Bodie fumbled a ball Ryder threw him. It slipped through his fingers initially, but he lunged and grabbed for it again, almost getting his hands on it before he fumbled it once more, and it fell from his grasp and was snatched by an opposition player.
It wasn’t his first fumble. It wasn’t anyone’s first fumble. The ball had been slippery all night and holding on to it had been a nightmare.
But that didn’t seem to matter. “Or maybe he won’t,” Juliet muttered, shaking her head as Ryder and Bodie bumped chests in the middle of the field, clearly yelling at each other, as the game played on.
Even across the distance and through the misty drizzle, Eleanor could see Griff was furious, storming up and down the sideline, gesticulating wildly at them.
The commentators were agog.
“What’s up with them tonight?” It was Kathy again, but every eye in the box turned to her and Juliet.
Eleanor’s heart sunk to her feet as her boyfriend and her brother pushed and yelled at each other, oblivious to their surroundings—the game, the crowd, their pissed-off coach. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but it didn’t look pretty.
“My brother is being an idiot.”
“Yes,” Juliet agreed. “He is.”
That didn’t really help. If anything, the WAGs’ gazes became even more curious.
“Jesus.” Val gaped at them. “They’re going to get their asses benched.”
“This is my fault,” Eleanor whispered, half to herself, half to Juliet. This was the reason men had a ridiculous bro code—so stupid macho bullshit like this didn’t happen.
“No. It’s not. They’re grown men acting like two-year-olds.”
Eleanor knew she was right, but it didn’t help her feel any less like Yoko. If she’d just been honest with Bodie that night back home, none of this would have unfolded.
But then she’d still be a frustrated virgin living a sensible life in the middle of nowhere.
She still wouldn’t have lived.
