Page 20

GEORDIE

“I feel like shit.” Nathan slumps against the hotel’s front wall.

It’s also an accurate description of how he looks this morning. Even catching a bit of fresh air while I checked us out hasn’t helped his hangover. His dark hair sticks out at odd angles and he looks grimy despite spending so long in the shower I had to yell at him to check he hadn’t passed out.

“Get this into you.” I thrust the takeaway coffee at him. We’ve left it too late to grab a decent breakfast before the bus leaves.

“Thanks, mate,” he mumbles. “Don’t want to sound ungrateful, but what I could really do with is a nice big greasy fry up.”

“I’m with you on that.”

The standard antidote for a hard night would go a long way to settling the nausea in my own stomach. Mine isn’t alcohol induced. Sure, I had a few drinks yesterday, but the moment Jenna invited me into her room, I sobered up instantly. After that, well, I didn’t need booze to give me courage, or use it to blur the edges. In fact, the opposite .

I wanted the clarity to remember every moment with Jenna just in case, come today, it might be all I had of her. She’s made it very clear that’s not the case. She sees something more beyond what happened between us, but it’s definitely not the same something I want.

That’s why, although I agreed to this secret ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement we made in the early hours, by the light of day, it’s eating at me. Especially her abrupt u-turn after the fire alarm. Before that, I’d been sure we’d found something in each other beyond just sex, something meaningful. Then all of a sudden it’s back to sneaky hook-ups, and banging each other without any other expectation than a fun time in the sheets. I hate it.

I take a frustrated slug of my coffee. Returning to Cluanie was meant to be a clean break from my past. I don’t want to drift forever in the aimlessness that has marked my life so far.

Eight years in a job that gave no satisfaction apart from a large bank balance. Now even that seems irrelevant. My ability to earn money proves I’m not thick like my teachers told me, but accumulating it is a hollow goal. It’s a truth I didn’t understand while I was off chasing contracts, always looking for the big bucks, always moving on.

Over that time, I’ve drifted between people too. Sure, I had friends of a sort amongst the crews on the rigs. It’s a harsh life and you need to have each other’s backs. Shore leave can get pretty wild, too, so it’s always reassuring to know there’s someone who’ll pull you out of a messy situation before you end up in some South East Asian jail.

But has a single one of those so-called friends stayed in touch? Not one. Those were friendships with a lifespan limited to the job. Once I moved on, they simply became acquaintances .

So this group of friends within the rugby team, most old and a couple new like Nathan, offer something more. The small uncomfortable niggle that grew into a gut feeling, suggesting I should chuck it all in and come home for a bit, was right. There are things in Cluanie I didn’t realise I’d lacked. Friends are one of them.

A girl like Jenna is another; but what I’m looking for with Jenna is something it now seems she’s not prepared to give me—yet—a proper relationship. Although this arrangement she’s suggested is a damn sight more than anything I’ve entered into previously.

My history with women consists of a stream of casual hook-ups, most the one-night stands that tend to find young men back on dry land after weeks offshore. There were the odd few where they stretched into a couple of weeks of mutually agreed no-strings-attached fun, with no expectations on either side, and no regrets afterwards.

But I’m no longer the horny kid looking for a quick tumble with a pretty girl, despite my actions last night suggesting that’s exactly what I am. Jenna has asked me for a little more than that, but it’s still not enough; not what I’m prepared to try and give someone for the first time in my life. It’s not her fault she’s unwilling to accept it yet. She will, eventually. I have to believe that.

I get it. How risky it would be for her, after what that prick of an ex did to her. So I’ll play along, keep these feelings—which, to be honest, even surprise me—to myself, and play the long game.

There’s no sign of her this morning. In one way, that’s a good thing. I’m not sure how to play it cool with her in front of all the guys. So far, apart from Nathan, it appears no one suspects. They were all too hammered to think anything of our no-show at the fire evacuation assembly point .

But there’s also insecurity nagging at me, a voice whispering the suggestion in my ear that she woke up with instant regrets and is now avoiding me.

I take a deep breath and grab my phone. It takes me three attempts to put together a text. I’m not good with the written word anyway, and this is such new territory. I eventually settle on something I hope is friendly but reassuring. I want her to be very clear: there are zero regrets on my part.

Me: Hey there sorry I overslept. Missed having breakfast with you. Bus is leaving soon. Where are you?

Jenna: Right here

Me: Here?

Jenna: On the bus

I look up, and she’s framed in a window, her mouth tipping up in a smile. It’s all the answer I need to know things are OK between us. Her brown eyes sparkle with invitation, although the faint crescents of purple beneath them betray her lack of sleep. Neither of us probably got more than four hours. She tosses me a flirty wink and I’m spurred into action.

Abandoning Nathan, I knock back the last of my coffee, toss the cup in a bin, snatch up my bag and plunge up the steps of the bus. The driver, probably the only one who did have a good night’s sleep, offers a way too cheerful good morning. I automatically return it without looking at him, while my eyes find Jenna—and my heart sinks as my stomach clenches in outright terror.

In the seat next to her, Coach Robbie has his nose buried in the Sunday paper. What does he know—an overprotective father sensing there’s something on the radar but not sure of the shape of it? It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s onto us. Sharpe by name and sharp by nature.

But if he thinks something’s going on, he’s still hazy on the details, because otherwise, I’d be dead. Or at least kicked off the team bus and walking back to Cluanie. Razor was adamant—player plus Jenna equals off the side.

When I pause in the aisle, calculating my next move, and he ignores me in favour of his reading, I relax. Perhaps he simply wants to spend a bit of time with his daughter on the return trip.

Either way, all my hopes of basking in Jenna’s company for a few precious hours are dashed by the sight of his frowning face. I take the next best seat just behind her, slouching into the gaudy plush upholstery, the pattern so bright it hurts my weary eyes. Immediately a text pings on my phone.

Jenna: If you’d got here earlier…

I fire one back at her.

Me: No one’s more sorry about that than me.

There’s an immediate answering chirp.

Jenna: I’m not sorry about anything I did in the last 24 hours. You?

I swallow so hard, surely she must hear it—and the exhale of relief that gushes from me. Her words make me rash. I take a chance, the first step in nudging her beyond our deal made in the darkness of the early hours.

Me: Only that I didn’t find you earlier. And I don’t mean just today.

I suck in another breath, holding it, my gut twisting in guarded anticipation .

As Jenna’s phone chirps again, Robbie lowers the paper and fixes her with a stare. Although I can’t see his raised brows, I sense them. With lowered head, I still feel his inquiring gaze swivel towards me, peering over the high seat back. I keep my eyes fixed on my phone and then breathe out silent relief as he turns back to her.

“Sorry.” She offers the apology in a smooth consoling tone, evidence of years wrangling her father. “It’s Rachel. Text-bombing both of us at the same time.”

The lie slips so easily off her tongue. But then, that’s Jenna’s job. Not actually lying, I suppose, but definitely smoke and mirrors. Right now, this statement is a lie, told on my behalf to save me from her father’s scrutiny.

I switch my phone to silent, praying Jenna has the sense to do the same. I glimpse her flying fingers and grin as the text comes in.

Jenna: Bugger. He’s got us cornered. Time for stealth mode.

Me: Already done.

The rest of the guys amble onto the bus, all looking worse for wear, after drowning the Scottish side’s loss with overconsumption of alcohol. Most commandeer entire double seats for themselves, sprawling across both spaces, eyes closed, dark glasses on.

I see Jenna tuck in her ear buds, and rest her head against the window as the bus pulls away from the hotel, rumbling along Edinburgh’s cobbled inner city streets.

Beyond the outer suburbs, we cross the Forth bridge with the navy waters of the Firth below tranquil today, and then into countryside so green it hurts my bleary eyes. I pull on my sunglasses and settle in to read the sports news online.

For almost an hour, there’s radio silence from Jenna. She’s got earbuds in, so I tuck my phone in my jacket and leave her with her music. I’m hoping she manages to shake off her father when we stop. Maybe I can catch a moment to talk to her. I’m missing her presence already, so when my phone vibrates against my chest, I’m quick to pull it out. My jubilation is short-lived. This time it is a text from my sister and she’s not happy with me. Not an uncommon situation.

Rachel: Fuck it Geordie!!!! I told you no, but you had to do it anyway.

Me: Do what?

Rachel: Hit on Jen.

How the hell does she know? Surely Jenna hasn’t told her. Not after we agreed to keep this quiet. I decide to play dumb.

Me: ????

Rachel: I saw you. On telly. In the crowd. Just now watching the replay.

Me: You didn’t watch the game live? Where’s your patriotic spirit?

Rachel: Pierre had a company function. Had to go.

Rachel: Damn it Geordie, you can’t change the subject.

She’s already angry, so I poke the bear with a stick just a little more.

Me: But I just did.

Rachel: Tell me you didn’t. Please. Not with Jen.

I don’t answer. This is already getting messy. I don’t want to lie, but I’m damned if I’m going to let my sister, or Robbie Sharpe, scare me off from the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So lying might become necessary.

I bury my phone back in my pocket, ignoring the two texts that come in. I can almost feel Rachel’s seething anger in the vibrations, as if it’s strong enough to remotely take control of my phone, even though she’s hundreds of miles away in London .

Out beyond Stirling, the bus makes a stop at a cafe. I’m desperate to get something solid in my slightly queasy stomach, but I’m even more determined to grab a few minutes with Jenna. I spot her ahead of me in line without her grumpy chaperone.

I jump the queue and sidle in behind her, trying to look inconspicuous but failing if the looks from some of my teammates are anything to go by. So much for keeping this a secret. I pray Jenna doesn’t notice. It wouldn’t be great for our future if she thinks I’ve been blabbing about her like some conquest.

Nathan’s face splits in a wide grin, showing all his perfect white teeth. He angles his head towards Connor, standing behind him, who mutters something in his ear. Our captain’s eyes fix on me and one side of his mouth tips up in a knowing smirk. Fuck, that’s all I need. My confidence at keeping Jenna and me off Razor’s radar doesn’t extend to these two. I’m screwed if they don’t keep their mouths shut.

First chance I get, I’m going to remind them it’s not only me with something to lose by exposure. The consequences for the team would be disastrous. It may sound cocky, but they’d have a hard job replacing my talents on the field if Razor gives me the heave-ho.

“Hey, there. You OK?”

I try to keep my voice casual, although it comes out a little high-pitched and there’s a nervous tremor. I’m so close I can smell a heady perfume, a tropical scent overlaid with a faint trace of spice, as I lean into her ear—her shampoo, perhaps? It’s intoxicating.

“Yeah, good. A little tired. No surprises there after last night.” Her voice is low, like we’re conspiring to commit a crime. She tilts her chin downwards and a seductive smile slides across her face. “You? ”

“Yeah, same. Sleep is highly overrated, though. Better things you can do with your time.”

She giggles, and it’s so cute. This incredibly capable and normally composed, thirty-something woman reduced to a giggling girl in my presence and a knot of pleasure tightens in my chest. She might not find my next words so funny, but I need to let her know. It’s her choice how we handle it—confirm, deny or no comment—after all, she’s the PR queen.

“Hey, I think Rachel’s onto us. Did she text you?”

She turns to face me, dark brows knotted in a frown.

“No. How could she know anything? What did she say?” Her voice is low.

“Reckons she saw us on the telly. At the game. Asked if I’d hit on you. And implied she’d rip my balls off if I had. Don’t ask me what made her come to that conclusion just from a glimpse of us in the crowd.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. Yet. What do you think?”

“Yeah, perhaps that’s best. Say nothing. Wait and see if she tackles me about it.”

A grunt from behind us and Razor appears, fixing me with a glare. I study the pies in the cabinet, making a show of leaning in to investigate the little labels, humming to myself as if the decision between the steak and ale or chicken and mushroom is the only thing on my mind, while Jenna herds her father towards the till. It will be our last words of the day. Except for a text as I’m sliding into the seat behind her, settling in for the last leg of the journey.

Jenna: God, with Dad and Rachel both suspicious, this is getting messy. What the hell were we thinking ?

Worried she’s getting cold feet, the message a prelude to her shutting this thing right down, I fire one back immediately.

Me: Relax. I’ve got this. Remember I’ve always been good at flying under the radar. Talk tomorrow.

She sends back an emoji, a smiley face wearing sunglasses and I pull on mine, take my own advice, and relax back into the seat to get some much-needed shut-eye as the bus rumbles towards Cluanie.