Page 29 of Personal Foul (The San Diego Storm #3)

Carson

W e had a ten-day hiatus after our Thursday night game in early November.

With an open Sunday, Colin organized a rugby on the beach party that included a barbecue and watching the rest of our league play afterward.

He’d created his own little curriculum for them to learn their positions, and told them to show up ready to play.

I was ninety-nine percent sure none of them did any of it.

“I really think you’ve gone too far with all of this.”

Colin looked at me incredulously, then down at the fourteen piles of uniforms, seven in blue and seven in yellow. “What do you mean? Exactly how am I going too far?”

I looked down at the speedo topping each pile. “Well, the uniforms are a start.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I held up the first offending piece. “I don’t think you’re going to talk them into wearing these. Lennox might be your only shot.”

He huffed out a breath. “Why not? You and I will wear them. And we’re playing on the beach. Everyone will be cooler, and it will hold their bits in just fine. You’ve seen the Speedo games.”

I laughed. “Yeah, um…that’s going to be a no for me. But even if I did, I don’t think you’ll convince them. Maybe they’ll wear them under their shorts.”

He waved his hand. “Fine. Then shorts and their T-shirts.”

“It’s going to be fun, either way.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “They’ll be here soon. What do you need me to do?”

He gave me that smile I couldn’t resist. “You could get into your uniform.”

I sighed, picked up my stack, and headed to change.

Half an hour later, Lennox and Dane were the first to arrive, followed by Mason and Drew. Evan had gone to Sacramento to be with Hudson and the kids.

Slowly, my house filled with our teammates who wanted to play. Even Lucas showed up.

Colin walked by and patted me on the ass. “Your jealousy is showing again.”

I scowled and got myself a beer.

“Alright guys, thank you for coming to the first annual Storm beach rugby match. Our pitch is going to be the beach. Dane has agreed to be our referee and timekeeper.”

I snorted, because my guess was he didn’t know a damn thing about this sport. It was all for fun.

Colin trotted over to him with a whistle and a shirt that read referee. He’d really taken this seriously.

“Alright,” he started, “the rules are simple if you did your homework. You cannot make forward passes, must be to mates behind you. If you have the ball and you get tackled, give it to a teammate to keep the play running. If the other side gets it, the same rules apply. Whoever scores in the end must fall on the ball.”

He looked around at everyone with a big smile. “Got it?”

They grumbled a variety of yeses and uh-huhs. Most of them were here for the food and football.

“Excellent. Blue team is Carson’s, yellow is mine. Get your uni’s on and let’s get to it.”

Mason frowned down at the pile Colin had given him, then raised his hand. “What the hell is this?”

I snorted at the way he held the speedo between two fingers. “A sandwich wrapper for your hot dog.”

A burst of laughter broke out as Mason turned red. “Do we really have to wear it?”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “You do whatever you want. The full-back over there will never know.”

Colin snorted. “Oh, we’ll all know if someone grabs hold of his shorts and shows us his white bum.”

Lennox picked up his pair and swung it around his finger. “I’m wearing mine,” then wiggled his eyebrows. “Dane, you wanna help me with my uniform?”

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head like Lennox was ridiculous. He was.

Mason turned redder and headed to the bathroom to change.

When everyone was decked out in their team colors, Colin grinned like a proud father. “Alright, let’s go play beach rugby!”

I looked over at Dane. “Are you gonna record this?”

He pulled out his phone and Lennox’s. “Oh, fuck yeah. It’s gonna be hilarious.”

We headed out to the pool deck and down onto the beach. Both teams divided up, and we tried to get a scrum going. Three-on-three was interesting. In the end, we looked like we were playing a game of human Hungry, Hungry Hippos.

At one point, I looked over to find Dane shaking with so much laughter that I was sure when we watched the video, it would give us motion sickness.

But somehow we got the hang of it enough to pass the ball around. There ended up being no rules, which was probably for the best, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Even my boyfriend was grinning and laughing.

On one play, Lennox lapsed back into his role of quarterback and threw a forward pass, sending Colin over the edge.

“What are ya doing, mate? Ya can’t do that!”

I grinned. “Frustrating, isn’t it? Welcome to my world.”

Of course, Colin walked by and pinched my ass, making me yelp.

“Oh, sorry. Must have slipped.”

If we’d been alone, I would have tackled him to the ground and made him beg for mercy.

As play continued, I watched as he coached his team. He was having such a good time that it made my heart hurt to think about how empty his life had been. But if he’d been happy in Australia, he never would have left. Now I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

Our game of rugby lasted an hour. We’d all eaten more sand than any of us would like. But we’d laughed and made fun of each other like friends do. Everyone had a new appreciation for the sport, and most importantly, my boyfriend had enjoyed himself.

We all sat down on the sand after the last round. As I looked around at my teammates talking and laughing with each other, they looked no worse for wear. No bruises or injuries, but closer as a unit.

“I gotta hand it to you, Kearney,” Lennox announced, getting to his feet. “This sport is controlled chaos, but fun as hell. Thanks for doing this.”

“Maybe we can do it again in the offseason when we can really play,” Colin suggested.

The grumbles started, making me laugh. I knew they’d be in for another round.

Getting to my feet, I held my hand out for Colin. Pulling him up, I kissed him on the cheek, then turned to our friends. “Alright guys, let’s go watch Portland disassemble Seattle. We’ll be playing them soon.”

“Are we going to eat?” Lennox asked, getting to his feet.

“Of course,” Colin grinned. “Jellied eel and Vegemite for everyone!”

Groans and curses escaped from them, but we had no intention of serving that. Steaks, chicken, and burgers were on the menu, with every imaginable side.

Colin and Lucas set up the portable outdoor screen and connected it to the TV in the house, while Lennox and I manned the grill. The smell was heavenly.

Everyone spread out on lounge chairs after taking a dip in the pool. We constructed a buffet by the back door so everyone could have whatever they wanted.

When they all had their food, we sat back and commented on the game as Alex Hayes and the Portland Pirates disassembled the Seattle Senators.

At the end of the evening, we showered before falling into bed, exhausted from a day that had made Colin so very happy. I wanted more days like that with him. But as our season came closer to an end, so did our time together.

“I have a question,” Colin said as we shopped for a turkey the week before Thanksgiving. “What exactly is a giblet, and why do you make gravy with it?”

When I told him we were making Thanksgiving dinner instead of ordering from a restaurant, Colin turned to Pinterest to find some traditional fare. I tried to be very broad in my description, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity. I should have known better.

“Giblets are the edible internal organs of the bird.”

He turned his nose up. “Like what? Please don’t say the stomach or balls. Do turkeys have balls like that? The only giblets I like are yours.”

I laughed. “Not those organs, and I have no idea. I guess they would have to? Anyway, it’s typically the heart and the gizzard.”

He pretended to gag, so I patted him on the back. “It’s okay. We’re not making any. We’ll just use the drippings from the pan.”

He eyed me lasciviously. “What’s dripping in the pan?”

I sighed and put my arm around his shoulders, trying to remind myself that Colin had no concept of the American holiday. “It’s the juices released from the turkey while it cooks. I promise you’ll enjoy everything. Without giblets.”

He slipped his arm around my waist, then squeezed my ass cheek. “But I like your giblets.”

“Those you can have.”

Coach had given us Thursday and Friday off to enjoy the holiday before our Sunday game. We wouldn’t see my parents until Christmas, so we were on our own for this one.

On Thanksgiving Day, we got up and had coffee before taking Bella out for a run. Colin started going with me and found he enjoyed the early morning exercise that usually ended with us back in bed before breakfast.

He made avocado toast and an egg white omelet for us while I turned on the parade.

“I don’t understand this holiday, but I’m here for the food,” he said as we watched the people in New York shiver in the cold.

“It’s okay. Just enjoy the day off and all the delicious things you get to try.”

He smiled. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Dressing.”

“Dressing what?” he asked, obviously confused.

“It’s the same thing as stuffing, but it’s not in the bird. It’s baked in a pan.”

Colin blinked at me. “I’m sorry. I’m not comprehending any of this.”

“It’s okay. I’ll explain it all.”

By the end of the afternoon, I’d roasted a turkey, complete with dressing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and green beans.

When everything was ready, we piled our plates high and sat in front of the big screen to watch football. We wouldn’t play Jacksonville this season, but it was fun watching them and reading what the offense was going to do.

“Are you nervous about your visa interview?” I asked as we spread out on the sofa.

“No. I’ve already done it once. The questions will be relatively the same as the first time.”

He might not have been nervous, but I was until we had it in hand. Then I could relax.

When we went to bed later that night, Colin rubbed his stomach. “I love these food holidays.”

I grinned. “Just wait until Christmas.”