Page 26 of Play Me

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Astrid

“What’s that look about?” Renn asks me, laughing.

I survey the scene around us and try to decide where to start. First, the air stinks like grass, mud, and water thanks to what can only be described as a deluge overnight. Puddles form on the edges of the pitch, and I’m certain the guys are intentionally getting as muddy as possible.

Children. All of them.

Then there are the things I heard shouted from player to player, things that I would take my earrings out to fight over if someone said them to me. Yet they all share a laugh and prepare to scrum again. I think . I can’t quite tell if this is a free-for-all or if strategy is involved.

“I’ll never understand rugby,” I say, furrowing a brow as another scrum begins. “It’s like football, soccer, and cheerleading had a baby with big thighs.”

Renn’s laughter grows louder at my analysis. “I don’t know how the hell you got cheerleading in the mix.”

“What is happening right now?” I ask, watching them scurry around.

“Right now, they’re trying to work the ball to the back of the scrum to Ridge. Then— there . He has it now. See? Ridge is number eight.”

I nod.

“Okay, Ridge will either pick up the ball and go, or Gray will take it. Like that,” Renn narrates. “Gray can either snipe and run it himself if he sees a gap around the scrum or pass it to the fly-half or a forward.”

Gray picks up the ball, then turns and lunges as if he’s going to run to the right. As soon as everyone shifts that direction, he makes a quick change to the left and explodes forward. He makes it a few yards before he’s tackled and lands on his side.

Renn smiles.

“I take it that went well,” I say.

Renn’s head subtly rocks back and forth as he turns to me. “He’s the best in the game … when he wants to be.”

The two of us stand on a balcony just outside a conference room on the executive level.

It’s Renn’s personal observatory. He loves rugby too much not to want to be involved in every tier of the game.

But he’s told me more than once that if he gets involved with practices and games, it undermines the coaching staff and the ultimate goal of winning.

As the guys prepare to scrum again, my mind flirts with what Renn just said. “Gray is the best in the game when he wants to be.” I can’t fathom why he wouldn’t want to be the best. But something tells me that Renn knows the answer.

“How has it been going with Gray?” Renn asks, watching the scrum unfold.

I sigh. “I thought I was here to help you get Blakely’s birthday party organized.”

“You are, and you did. I feel much better about the party after our chat today. But I also want to check in and see how things are working out between the two of you.”

I watch Gray move about like he has endless energy. He’s one of the smaller guys out there, but he’s by far the quickest. He seems to know where the ball is going before it gets there, and his teammates appear to follow his gestures and commands without a second thought.

“They’re going better,” I say, my eyes glued to Gray and the way his body moves. There’s mud all over him, and it’s … hot. “We met in person on Sunday and managed an entire hour face-to-face without drawing blood.”

Renn chuckles. “That’s progress.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

A whistle blows below, and the activity comes to a stop. They all gather in a circle before breaking. Gray turns toward us with a towel in his hand. He’s talking to Jory when he looks up … and his gaze crashes into mine.

I want to look away, embarrassed at being caught watching him, but a blush settles over my cheeks as a grin splits his. His attention flicks to Renn, then back to me. I return his small smile before he looks away and follows Jory to the locker room.

“You wanted to ask me something?” Renn motions for me to follow him inside the empty conference room. “Hang on just a second.”

He walks to the other end of the room and quietly takes a call.

I slowly gather my things and the various samples and catalogs I brought with me and shove them in my bag. Renn was adorable as he picked out every detail for Blakely’s birthday. He wanted a say in everything down to the napkins. By the time he gets off his call, I’m finished.

“Sorry,” Renn says. “Back to your question.”

“What made you want to take a risk on Gray?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he’s obviously a wild card. He’s only the best when he wants to be. So what makes you think you can make him want to be great?”

Renn plucks his blazer off the back of a chair and shrugs it over his wide shoulders. His brows pull together, and he slips his phone into his pocket. Finally, he turns to me. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I hoist my bag onto my shoulder and wait for the rest of the explanation, but it never comes. Instead, Renn leads me into the hallway toward the elevators. I follow him because it’s all I can do.

We step inside the lift, and he presses the button to take us to the lobby.

“You know what?” Renn says, watching the numbers lower as we descend. His eyes darken. “I take that back. Not everyone deserves a second chance.”

I know he’s thinking about his father. The only time Renn looks like he could murder someone with his bare hands is when his dad is the topic of conversation. But it’s justified. I’m nothing to Reid Brewer, and I want to kill the man myself for hurting his family the way that he did.

The doors part, and Renn waits for me to exit first.

“I’m meeting Tate down here in a few minutes.” Renn smirks. “Want to hang around and wait with me?”

“Ha!” I back away from him slowly. “Good luck. I’ll email you tonight with an update on the party plans. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

“Thanks, Astrid.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I’ll tell Tate that you said hi.”

I glare at him, making him chuckle, then I turn around. I pull my bag tighter to my side and make my way through the lobby. My brain is in overdrive, picking apart my conversation with Renn. The one thing that stands out to me is that he thinks Gray deserves a second chance. Why?

It’s not that Renn wants to give Gray another chance.

It’s why Gray needs it that bothers me. Because the way Renn said it didn’t sound like Gray needed another chance at winning or competing.

It was as if he needed another chance at …

something else. And I can’t figure out what that something else is.

I push open the doors and step outside, heading for the parking lot.

“Okay, I need to get some of these things sourced for Blakely’s surprise party,” I say, voice messaging myself a note in my phone for later. “Send Renn an update on that. I need to confirm with Brewer Air that they’ll have a jet for Renn to use for his trip to Vegas next week. And I?—”

“Hey!”

I glance over my shoulder and see Gray coming toward me from the player facilities. I slide my phone into my pocket and try not to stare.

“Trying to get some cardio in today or what?” he says with a grin.

A person could see those dimples from outer space. I stop and wait for him to catch up, and he breaks into a slow jog. His hair is damp, and it catches the sunlight, making him look like he has a halo. The closer he gets, the more I notice a slight purple tint to the area beneath his right eye.

“What do you mean?” I ask as he joins me on the sidewalk, and we walk shoulder to shoulder toward our cars. “I got my cardio in before I left my house this morning.”

“You’re practically running out of here.”

“Maybe I was trying to get away from you,” I say, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. What are you doing here today, anyway?”

“Renn needed my help with a few things.” My heart warms as I remember him obsessing over whether we should have light or dark pink balloons at Blakely’s party, and how he wanted to touch the linen samples for the tablecloths before he made his decision.

And now I’m lugging them back to the store. Oof. “What happened to your eye?”

“An elbow. I think it was Breaker’s, but I can’t be sure.”

“You should’ve elbowed him back in the earhole just in case.”

He laughs. “Earhole?”

“Isn’t that what it’s called?” I laugh, too. “I mean, it’s a hole in your ear. Earhole .”

“We don’t call your nostrils noseholes.”

“But we do call the hole in your bottom an asshole, so your point is not valid.”

He shakes his head. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“Thank you,” I say, lifting my chin in pride.

My car is a row up from his behemoth and about five spots closer to the facility. I wanted to rev my engine as I passed his truck on my way in today, but I couldn’t figure out how and didn’t want to tear up my transmission. Again.

I open the back door and set my bag on the seat. “If you get time today, can you check your email? A woman from Wayside will be sending you a document to sign electronically. They won’t even talk to me about your endorsement without having your approval on file.”

“Yeah, I’ll check it as soon as I get home.”

“Thanks.” I reach for the door to close it when I hear my phone ringing in my bag. “Hang on a second.”

“Sure.”

I dig the device out from under the linen samples and answer the unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Ms. Lawsen?” a cheery female asks.

“Yes.”

“Great. Hi, Ms. Lawsen. This is Wanda from Dixon Legal Group. How are you this afternoon?”

I glance at Gray. He’s leaning against the back of my car and messing with his phone. And hopefully not eavesdropping on me … like I do him.

“I’m great,” I say, walking a few paces away from Gray. “How are you?”

“Wonderful, thank you for asking. I’m calling because I need to reschedule your consultation with Mr. Dixon. An emergency has popped up, and he’ll be unavailable until June first.”

My jaw hangs open. “June first? That’s weeks from now.”