Page 5 of Big Rucking Disaster (Rucked by You #8)

Chapter Four

Johnnie

“Your ex? Ouch.”

“Part of his grand plan. He wanted the courts to see what a generous guy he was.”

“Booting you out of the marital home?” I pushed the button, and the electric system purred to life. So damned quiet compared to my car—that had needed a new muffler last decade. Oh well, no one could claim they hadn’t heard me coming.

“He considered it an amicable uncoupling. I’m supposed to be grateful because his salary as a podiatrist was always significantly higher than mine as a high—”

“Guy works with feet all day?”

“Uh…yeah. Very rich feet.” He pressed a hand to his forehead.

“This thing know where home is?” I gestured to the GPS.

“Yes.”

I tapped and regarded the map. “Well, there’s a Subway on the way, so we’re good. What do you want?”

“Is there any point in arguing?”

“Do you have some moral argument against me buying you a sub? Would you prefer a burger? A salad? A poke bowl?”

He sighed. “A sub is fine.”

“Great.” I pointed the beautiful SUV toward Somerville Street, with a detour to Subway, and headed out of the parking lot. I cast a look at my fifteen-year-old car, hoped no one touched it, and pulled onto the street. At a red light, I glanced at Coach. “You don’t look so good.”

He groaned. “I hate taking painkillers.”

“Well, yeah.” The light turned green, and I advanced. “But having a bad headache is worse. A volleyball, you say? Must’ve just hit you wrong. Those things are soft.”

“Didn’t feel soft when it hit my temple.” He cracked an eye open, hit a button on the dashboard, and resettled.

I snickered. “Heated seat?”

“You’re free to do the same. I don’t need comfort like that—but he paid for it, and damn it, I’m going to use it.”

“I still can’t believe he works with feet. What’d you mean, rich feet?”

“His practice is in Kitsilano. That’s where we used to live.”

“And he bought your half of the house?” I whistled.

“Turns out he’d been squirreling money away for years. He insisted to the court that he only had enough to buy me out.”

I made a right turn onto Broadway. “You didn’t believe him?”

“My lawyer didn’t. I was too tired to hire someone to go digging.

I got enough to buy a nice, little house, and I got away from him.

I still have my pension, which after thirty-five years of teaching will look pretty sweet.

I put some extra money aside every month—my house is older and needs lots of repairs. ”

I hung a left on Fraser Street. “Sounds complicated.”

“It’s my life. Don’t think I’m bitter…”

“Much.” I grinned because he couldn’t see me.

“Much,” he conceded. “I got to keep my friends. His…I don’t even miss them. Nor do I miss my mother-in-law. She never liked me.”

“And you were married for how long?”

“Too long.” He let out a sigh.

I pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “Okay, you want to come in?”

“Nope.”

“I’m taking the keys so you won’t drive away.”

“Yep. Wasn’t planning on it.”

“What do you want?”

“Honestly? Nothing. I’m nauseous.”

“All the more reason to get something in your stomach.” I wracked my brain. “Meatball? Cold cut?”

“BLT. Extra tomatoes. Oh, with onions and black olives.”

“Uh, can you repeat that?”

“Bacon, lettuce, extra tomatoes, onions, black olives, Italian dressing.” He sighed. “I might be able to eat that.”

Personally, I thought bacon might be a little harsh, and black olives? Blech. “Sure. Back in a few.”

That turned out to be overly optimistic as the line was long.

I yanked out my phone, pulled up IG, selected my profile, and started scrolling.

Me with Carly. Me with my team. Me with Carly.

Carly in my place. Me and the guys. Carly and…

On it went. Yeah, if Yardley had checked this out, I could see how he assumed Carly and I were… tight.

Even as I was about to put the phone away, she texted asking me where I was.

I responded, with a friend , and put the phone in my back pocket.

And ignored the next five texts.

She wasn’t great at taking a hint. She was…possessive.

I was…not willing to rock the boat.

After I secured our subs, a couple of cookies, and bottled drinks, I headed back to the SUV.

Yardley barely stirred, so I tossed the food onto the back seat. Within a moment, I was back on the road.

Dodging rush-hour traffic down Fraser Street was a pain, but eventually I found myself before a cute house on Somerville Street.

An elevated bungalow painted a bright blue, it fit in with most of the other houses on the street—except a couple where obviously the previous home had been torn down and a much bigger one had replaced it.

That happened a lot everywhere in Vancouver. “Do I park out front of—”

“There’s a driveway off the back lane.” He muttered the words.

“Got it.” I figured out how to get there and was grateful he had the number posted on the chain-link fence. I pulled into the driveway and put the SUV into park. After a moment, I turned the vehicle off. “This is a sweet ride.”

“You mean aside from the fact the thing was a bribe?” Yardley opened his eyes.

“You’re better off without him.” I didn’t know Dr. What’s His Face Podiatrist, MD, but nothing was as bad as being with someone who didn’t want you.

“Sure. Maybe.” He rubbed his forehead. “Only I was with him for most of my adult life. I didn’t know how to live alone. Don’t.” He corrected himself. “Might as well come in.”

“Okay.” I grinned. Truthfully, I couldn’t figure out if he was perpetually grumpy or if the circumstances were dictating his annoyance. Me? The knock to the head? Discussions about his ex? All? None? Some combination? I had no idea.

I snagged the food as well as my bag. While my attention was focused on that, Yardley snagged his messenger bag with that heavy laptop. “Hey.”

“You snooze, you lose.” He deadpanned that. Then held out his hand.

I dropped the keys into them as I filled my arms with stuff. By the time I made my way up to his deck, he had the front door unlocked.

“Oh, I have a woman living in the basement. Please don’t stomp or be too loud.”

“You rent out the basement?” I shucked my shoes.

“Mortgage helper.” He paused. “Although I don’t have a mortgage.

With the housing crunch in this city, I didn’t want to leave a perfectly good suite empty.

She’s a PhD student at UBC. Keeps to herself and is almost never around.

I put the rent money aside for a rainy day.

” He gazed upward. “I’m likely to need a new roof within the next five years. ”

“Something I don’t have to worry about. Do you need help to take your shoes off?”

“I can take off my own shoes, for fuck’s sake.” Yet, when he tried to bend, he swayed.

“Okay, Coach, let’s get you seated. Dining table or couch?” From where we stood, at the back of the house in the kitchen, I spotted the table as well as a very comfortable-looking sectional. “That looks comfy.” I gestured with my chin.

“Dirty shoes.” He might’ve whined that.

“I’ll mop your floor.” I eyed his shoes. They sure didn’t look dirty to me. Not like my cleats looked like after a game or practice when the rain poured down and the mud was everywhere.

“You’re very argumentative.”

I snickered. “Have you listened to yourself lately?” I snagged his messenger bag and placed it gently on the floor. “There for tomorrow. Now—couch, dining table, or bed?”

His eyes went wide. “I didn’t say anything about—”

“Nope. But if you’re dizzy, then lying down might be a good idea. I’m still not convinced I shouldn’t be running you to an after-hours walk-in clinic—”

“I probably would’ve gotten the headache even if the ball hadn’t hit me.

The weather.” He vaguely pointed out the lovely, large window over the sink.

It faced the amazing backyard. Not huge in size, but lush in greenery.

I spotted flower plants everywhere. It’ll be amazing when they all bloom .

And he appeared to have a vegetable garden in the back corner.

I’d oriented myself, and his backyard faced west and got direct sunlight for most of the day. Perfect for growing.

All of which my mother had taught me before she died.

My uncle, who then took over as my guardian, hadn’t had time for girly shit like that . To his credit, he’d gotten me interested in rugby. I’d thank the old bastard—if he hadn’t died years ago.

I was alone in the world.

You have Carly. You have your teammates. You’re not alone, for fuck’s sake.

“Couch. Jesus, I’m just tired.”

“We’ll get you fed and into bed. Are the bedrooms on this floor?”

“Yes, two on this floor as well as two in the attic.”

“Nice. Four-bedroom houses are lovely.” I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about, but he was letting me guide him to the couch.

I got him plopped onto his butt, and I set about removing his shoes. Actually… “Travis and Isaiah? The couple I told you about? They bought a house in East Van. Up near Sunrise and Hastings. Isaiah’s got a massive family back in New Zealand.”

I grinned as I got both shoes removed. I headed back to the kitchen.

“And his grandmother—who apparently is not to be argued with—has decided various of his nieces and nephews need to come to Canada for various reasons. Mostly schooling, but apparently one kid’s, like, a hellion.

They figure Uncle Travis will set him straight.

” I washed my hands, then grabbed two plates from the cupboard.

“Travis was in an accident and has a scar down his face and a bunch of tattoos. He comes off as a badass. The truth? He’s a softie.

If the kids need discipline, Isaiah will take care of that.

” I plated the subs, then set about getting glasses of ice.

“You want lemonade or iced tea? I wasn’t certain which you’d want. Unless you have—”

“Lemonade sounds good.”

Score. I love iced tea. I’d have drunk the lemonade, of course.

“Right. One second.” I found a couple of glasses and poured the drinks.

“So, I think even if Isaiah’s grandmother wasn’t sending half of New Zealand, my friends would be looking to foster or even adopt.

They’re…” I sighed. “You know how some people are meant to be parents? That’s them.

Although Travis will argue about that continuously.

He’s getting better, though. Being around Roger’s kids has really softened him.

I made my way into the living room with Coach’s food and drink.

He had a weird look on his face.

“You okay?”

“Sure. Uh, thanks for the food.” He held out his hands.

He’s anything but fine. He looks…stricken. I replayed the last few minutes. Oh God, does he have kids? Did he lose them in a custody dispute?

Suddenly two balls of fur came careening into the room.

Yardley chuckled as he took the food and drink from me. “I wondered when you two would show up.”

“They don’t greet you at the door?”

Both fuzzballs leapt onto the couch. One with way more grace than the other.

“The skinny one’s Sam, and the fat one’s Steve.”

“Oh well, I wasn’t going to comment on…”

Sam planted himself, opened his legs, and started licking… Yep, he was licking his dick.

Yardley rolled his eyes.

Steve tried to make a grab for the sub.

“Do they need to be fed or something?”

Both cats finally paid some attention to me.

“Oh, did I say the right word? Food?”

“Meow.” Steve tumbled off the couch and started headbutting my leg with his nose.

Sam regarded me with solemn eyes.

“He’s a little slower to trust.” Yardley put his drink on the end table and started petting his cat.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to eat your sub with that hand?”

He snickered. “Not something I generally worry about.”

“Gross.” I stomped back to the kitchen, Steve hot on my heels. “What do I feed him?”

“Half of one of the containers. Sam can have an entire one and the other half of Steve’s.”

“Steve won’t try to steal?”

“He tried once and got a whack on the nose for his trouble. Sam takes his food very seriously.”

I gazed down to find both cats staring up at me. “In these little dishes?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

“Well, okay, then.” I muttered the words under my breath. Within moments, I was directing each cat to a dish. I probably didn’t need to supervise—given Sam knew how to put Steve in his place—but I figured sticking around would be good.

Except—

I grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and headed into the living room.

Coach had his sub in both hands and was devouring it.

“Gross. Seriously.” I stalked over to him. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“Didn’t have a mother.” He glared. But he took the wet towel and wiped his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. According to my dad, she wasn’t all that nice of a woman. She gave birth to me, stuck around for a little while, then met someone else and took off. Left my dad with me and my older sister.”

“You’re a younger child? I had you pegged as the eldest.”

He glared.

I snickered, snagged the dirty towel from his hand, and went back to the kitchen. I tossed it, washed my hands, then headed back into the living room with my sub and iced tea.

He was nearly finished while I hadn’t even started. I put my glass down on the end table and plopped next to him with a sigh.

“You’re…” He eyed me. “Bossy.”

I laughed. “You’re the coach and you’re calling me bossy? I might be the captain of the team, but everyone listens to Roger since he’s older and has been around longer.”

“Roger who’s got kids?”

Funny how that fact had stuck with him. “Five. Kristine Angelique’s just a couple of months old.

Cassandra’s twelve, Tristan’s almost nine, Linus is six, and Evelyn’s three, and you should be damn impressed I remembered all that.

” In fact, I hadn’t always been so diligent about keeping track of my teammates’ kids.

Then Isaiah joined the squad, and by the third day, he knew everyone and all their offspring.

Not to be outdone, I tried to keep up as well.

I settled in to eat my sub, all the while wondering what the fuck I was doing here.