Page 2 of Big Rucking Disaster (Rucked by You #8)

Chapter One

Yardley

“ A w, fuck.” I eyed my phone. “Today? It has to be today?”

Hugo gazed up from his coffee. “Today is always today, my friend. That’s the way the world works. Oh, did I show you Midnight’s latest trick?” He queued up his phone and hit play.

I watched while Midnight the Samoyed twirled on her back paws. Kind of adorable. “How did a white dog get the name Midnight? And it looks like she’s shedding.” I spotted some of her notoriously thick fur flying.

“The family we rescued her from named her. I think the kids had a hand in that. And yeah, she’s molting. It’s March, spring is on the way, and she’s…shedding like crazy.”

“Your friends are watching her next week, right?”

Hugo grinned. “Renee and Cope, yeah. She’ll get to play with the twins, Matthew and Scarlett, who are getting mighty big.

” He swiped to another picture of the toddlers.

His best friend and her husband had become parents after years of trying, and their joy at the antics of their twins was visible in all the photos Hugo shared.

“I can’t wait to see Grindstone perform.

Axel’s been away for three weeks now.” He pouted.

"And yet you’ve survived.” Hugo’s rockstar fiancé was on tour right now with his band. The journey was ending with a big performance at Massey Hall in Toronto next week.

“I miss him.”

“You’re marrying him in less than a month.”

“Well, there is that.” He grinned. “And you’re still standing up for me, right?”

I’d been surprised at the invitation. Since my divorce, though, I’d grown closer to Hugo. My ex…well, the less said, the better. Still, I’d have thought Hugo would pick Renee. With the twins, though, she didn’t want to commit. “For sure.”

Axel’s bandmate and best friend Ed, was standing up for him.

They were opting for a small ceremony with just close friends.

Hugo’s parents were not invited, and Axel didn’t have any blood family around.

What the men had were Hugo’s sister and her kids, as well as Axel’s bandmates and a select few of Hugo’s teaching friends.

Found family. In some cases, far more important than blood.

The bell rang.

Hugo pocketed his phone. “Oh, hey. What was the fucking today about?” He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder as we prepared to leave the staff room—him for his music room and me for the gym.

“I’ve got a rugby player coming to speak to the students.”

“What’s wrong with that? I love when guests come and speak to the kids. Reinforces what I’m telling them but that they ignore because it's coming from me. And gives me a break from teaching.” He grinned yet again.

Damn guy was happy all the fucking time.

Not that he was yucking my yum, but I wasn’t as gloriously happy.

I wasn’t in love. I was newly divorced and just a little bitter.

“This guy? Captain of Vancouver’s Orcas.

Big showoff. Huge social media presence.

” Damn attractive, gorgeous girlfriend, and probably standoffish.

Probably thought he was better than us just working as physical education teachers.

“Johnnie…” Hugo snapped his fingers.

“Johnnie Leclerc.” I squinted. “How do you know him?”

“The local news did a segment about them. The team, I mean. How they’re on this winning streak, but Montréal keeps breaking it.

They’re headed to national finals, if they beat Calgary and Winnipeg—which should be easy.

If Montréal beats Toronto and Halifax, then the Orcas are against their archrivals again. ”

I scratched my stubbled chin. “I didn’t know any of that.

I’ve been focused on the Canucks this month.

” Vancouver’s professional hockey team was actually doing really well, and it looked like they might make the playoffs.

Undoubtedly, they’d lose at some point. It’d been over thirty years since a Canadian team had hoisted Lord Stanley’s Cup.

That drought was almost as old as I was.

I’d been all of seven when the Canadiens won in ’93.

I wasn’t overly optimistic about Canada’s chances.

I was a diehard Canuck fan until they lost for the season—then I’d cheer any and all Canadian teams who advanced.

“You know the Canucks aren’t going to win.”

“Of course I do.”

“Fair. Later.” He scurried out of the room while I was a fraction slower.

Louella had the basketball squad this morning and then ninth-grade girls. I got ninth-grade boys. Yay, fun. Marginally better than eighth grade—but not by much.

I wandered into the gym as Louella gave the girls a pep talk.

The teacher was petite, with spikey red hair, deep-brown eyes, plenty of curves, and a wicked sense of humor.

At the end of the chat, the girls sprinted for the showers while my co-teacher headed my way. She grinned. “Johnnie Leclerc, eh?”

“Last period. Grade Twelve.” We taught that grade as mixed, so Johnnie would be sharing his wisdom with twenty-two wisecracking kids who wanted out of high school so badly they could taste it.

A couple of girls and three of the boys loved rugby.

We didn’t have a squad at our school, but Greta played on a local team, and Kenji was hoping to get scooped up next year by a semi-pro team.

I was trying to encourage him, all the while knowing sports were brutal.

“I wish I could be there. I’m at Central with the badminton team.”

“It’s great to get them out of the school for once.”

“Small squad with great potential. Underrepresented sport in our school.”

The bell rang again, and a gaggle of girls sprinted from the changing room to their homerooms.

I sighed as I unpacked my messenger bag. Midterm report cards were due soon, and I had a couple of students who thought my class was optional. They were going to find out quickly how I felt about that.

As with most Mondays, the day passed in a blur of kids, sports, drama, and comedy.

Hugo and I ate lunch together as he spoke about a violin player in his class who was showing huge potential. His enthusiasm couldn’t be understated as he carried on about the young woman and how the money that flowed into the school after the scandal was helping tremendously.

The scandal.

In a moment of pique, Hugo’s ex-husband, upon seeing Hugo with Axel Townsend, his former student, claimed Hugo and Axel had been involved in an affair when Axel was a teenager.

Total bullshit. I’d known Hugo back then, and he’d never looked at his student that way. He’d recognized talent and had nurtured it, but he sure as shit never looked at Axel as a potential sex partner.

Gross.

But douchebag ex-husband’s allegations had to be investigated, and Axel and Hugo found themselves under a lot of scrutiny.

Hugo hired a damn good lawyer who uncovered asshole ex was actually up to his neck in fraud. He’d been arrested, Hugo had come off suspension, money had flowed in from people outraged at the school’s arbitrary treatment of him, and now, he and Axel were getting married.

Through it all, my friend never wavered in his dedication to his students. For both of us, teaching was a vocation. A calling. We’d both chosen to work in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Vancouver because we believed in what we were doing.

As we rose from lunch, he gave me another long look. “Johnnie isn’t your ex.”

I snorted. “I should hope not. My ex was very gay.”

“Johnnie’s got a girlfriend.”

“I am aware.”

“Maybe don’t judge him before you meet him?”

“He’s going to come here, show off, sign a few autographs for adoring students, and then take off. Guys like that aren’t in it for the hard work—they’re in it for the glory.”

“And what did I just say about not judging him? Especially for his looks.”

“Ah.” Because Johnnie looked a lot like my ex—golden blond, blue eyes, and a killer jawline. “I got taken in by looks. That won’t happen again.”

Hugo snickered. “Right. Just like I tried to tell myself that grown-up Axel wasn’t my type.”

“You were never interested in me.” I puffed out my chest.

The truth was, we’d been fast friends, but that was it. Although I was Black, like Axel, Hugo had never seen me as a potential mate. Plus, we’d both been married when we’d met.

Ironically, both to assholes.

He’d ditched the ex long before I had. To my shame and regret.

“Later.” Hugo waved and strode off.

I straggled back to the gym. I was accustomed to the funky smell. Like some kind of home.

Nicholas’d always insisted I shower before coming home because of what he referred to as the stench of pubescent children .

That should’ve been a hint he didn’t want kids.

I figured that out way too late. Now, at thirty-nine, I didn’t figure I’d ever have any of my own. So I’d make the best of what I had.

The grade-eleven boys after lunch were quite a crew. They wanted to play basketball all the time. I tried to explain we were here for all kinds of physical activity, but that often fell on deaf ears.

Today, with my mind on Johnnie Leclerc, I let most of them work on free throws.

I snagged three uninterested kids, and we went to the other end of the gym and practiced passing volleyballs. Tatum showed potential as a volleyball player, and I had hopes he’d make captain of the squad next fall in his senior year.

“Hey!” A cry came from the other end of the gym.

A volleyball smacked me on the head because, of course, I’d turned my head.

“Oh shit, Coach, I’m sorry.” Tatum ran after the volleyball.

I pressed a hand to my temple. Yeah, that hurt. Still, I had work to do. “What’s going on?” I stalked across the court to find two students glaring at each other.

“He tried to knock me over.” Jared pointed.

Rudy shrugged.

I arched an eyebrow. All the while, my temple throbbed and my brain was starting to hurt.

“Look—”

“Quitting time!” Louella stepped out of the office. “You’ve got a guest arriving soon.”

All the pipsqueaks ran for the changing room—Rudy and Jared leading the way. Hopefully, they’ll behave in the showers.

Tatum hung back with the volleyball in his hands. “I’m so sorry—”

I waved him off. “Absolutely not your fault. I lost focus.” I eyed the changing room. “Just one of those things, okay?”

He bounced the ball. “Who’s the guest?”

“Johnnie Leclerc. He’s a rugby player.”

Tatum rolled his eyes. “The up-and-coming sport .”

Rugby had been around about twenty-five years longer than volleyball, but I got Tatum’s meaning. Two very different skill sets. Not his speed—at all. He loved the elegance of the white ball sailing through the air. He loved the lack of physical contact with the opposite team.

“Johnnie’s at the front reception. I’ll go grab him!” And just like that, Louella was gone.

Tatum regarded me for just one moment. “Is he good-looking?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a good guy?”

“I hope so.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” With that, he sauntered to the changing room.

I went in search of an ice pack.