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One. Knight in a dirty ball cap

Elias

April, Present Day

I shouldn’t be here.

You know what’s worse than being in a crowded sports bar? Being in a crowded sports bar with rowdy fans as they watch your team get thrashed ruthlessly. It’s packed with heads turned to the televisions playing the same thing—cricket.

“I really shouldn’t be here,” I repeat softly and tug my cap lower, blocking people from seeing my face.

Everyone boos loudly and obscenities fly, but I make it a point not to look up as I push through the throng. I should be sitting on my couch with a glass of expensive scotch as my team plays their way to a second losing game in a week. But the cabin fever was starting to get on my last nerve; escaping my house seemed like the only way to shake it off.

Obviously I haven’t been making smart decisions in the last twelve months.

First with the rotator cuff strain following last year’s terrible season. Then slacking off on physiotherapy in the first few weeks after surgery. Not to mention the fact that I don’t know how to sit still and do nothing. After the required eight weeks of rest and wearing a sling every single day, I tossed it aside and went back to my regular routine. As you can imagine, my doctors and coaches were not impressed.

Here’s the thing, though. If I can’t practise and train with the team, I don’t get to play. That is not an option. Not after I spent the last eleven months waiting to get back on the pitch for the ICL championship. Having missed the World Cup because of my injury, I can’t lose out on this too.

The Indian Cricket League, or the ICL? 1 , is one of the most exciting times of the year for any cricketer and fans of the sport. For a small town boy like myself, it’s the chance to play with legends and athletes I’ve looked up to for a big part of my life. Working my way up to being on the Indian team was a big deal. Being chosen to play for an ICL team? That was an even bigger win. I was twenty-three when my name made it into the annual auction and I was absolutely shocked when the Chennai Renegades picked me out of the hundreds vying for a spot.

I’ve been fortunate that my playing has continued to improve over the years, enough that the team has retained me and I’m not at risk of being auctioned off. Chennai is my home and leaving it would break my heart.

However, given the way this season has gone already, I’m not sure the management sees the value in keeping me on if I can’t actually play. I’ve been working my ass off—PT every day and exercising at home. I don’t drive myself anywhere and give my shoulder the rest it needs. Cricket has been my entire life since college and I barely graduated with a degree in economics, so finding a corporate job after all these years would ruin me.

The crowd booms again, more profanity being flung at the screens, and I look up as one of my teammates misses an easy catch. My shoulder twinges at the memory of a similar move that benched me. I roll it back gently and try to catch the bartender’s eye. Another wave of groans echoes as the opposing batsman hits a beautiful boundary shot that flies into the stands.

The Renegades fans are not happy and I don’t blame them. We’ve won the championship six times, then suffered a pretty terrible loss last year, so we need to get our shit together.

So much for being champions .

“Can’t we watch something else?”

A husky feminine voice draws my attention. Her black dress stops right above her knees, with thick thighs and strong legs leading into well-worn Vans. Her dark hair is wavy, loose and in absolute disarray; flipped over, falling down the right side of her head, blocking her face from my view. She stands out in this crowd of obnoxious cricket fans.

“You’re in a sports bar, we’re going to watch sports ,” someone calls back.

She finishes whatever is in her glass before saying, “There are other sports, you know? Hockey is supposed to be our national sport and honestly, kabaddi? 2 would be better than this disaster.”

Another angry fan guffaws from somewhere behind me. “Hockey is not our national sport.”

“Actually it is.” Once the words are out, I’m surprised they came from me.

“My knight in a dirty ball cap,” she mumbles sarcastically, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

I tilt my head slightly and when my eyes meet hers, the wind is knocked out of me. I’ve met a lot of beautiful women before, but none have ever made me speechless. Her round face is full, cheeks soft and slightly flushed. Her plump mouth is curved up in half a smile. There’s no right way to describe her perfect nose. But more than anything, it’s her light brown eyes that snag me. Twinkling with mirth, nestled beneath thick dark eyebrows. I could live in those eyes .

“Half expected your eyes to drop to my cleavage,” she teases. And that’s what I do. Her dress dips low in the front, a hint of red lace peeking out the right side. She laughs, as husky as her voice, and I hate myself a little for falling for her trick.

“Fuck, sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“At least you waited until you had permission.”

“Still,” I mumble, finally getting a chance to order my drink. “Hoegaarden? 3 , please.”

“Local beer not good enough for you?”

“If you’re into drinking flavoured water, sure.”

“Not all of us are rolling around in money.”

The beer appears, orange slice and all, making my companion snort. I take a sip and gesture to her empty glass. “Do you wanna trade piss water for something better?”

“That’s a terrible pick-up line.”

“You’d know if I was trying to pick you up,” I retort, surprised by my own honesty. I’ve never openly flirted like this before and truth be told, I’m not sure I could pick this woman up. I’m not suave or charming enough for the likes of this beauty. It’s only been a few minutes and she’s already intimidated me.

She sidles closer, a delicious fruity scent wrapping around me, and tilts her head. “Based on that voice and jaw alone, I might let you skip the cheesy pick-up lines.”

“That’s all it takes?”

She chuckles and pokes my chest. “If you showed me the rest of your face, maybe.”

From her distaste for what’s playing on the screens, I assume she’s not a fan of cricket. I might not have a million brand deals like my teammates and my face might not be instantly recognisable, but I can’t always go incognito. Showing up at the bar that evening was unplanned, but it worked out since everyone expects me to be sitting in the stands in Ahmedabad as my team messes up yet another match.

“Can I buy you a drink first?”

She purses her lips, pink and biteable, and turns to the bartender and asks for a rum along with complicated instructions. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged in hard liquor, thanks to my trainer-prescribed diet. It also doesn’t include beer, but given I’m not playing, it’s worth the risk. I need something to take the edge off, something to give me the high I’m craving.

Then again, if the woman beside me gives me even a few more minutes of her attention, I might be riding a different kind of high all night.

“Vera,” she says, hand held out between us. Her nails are dark, wrist adorned with faded friendship bands. “Now is when you shake my hand and tell me your name.”

Get a grip, man . You’d think I’d never interacted with a pretty person before. Putting my hand in hers, I smile. “Elias.”

“I changed my mind. That smile could make me forgo the drink and a pick-up line.”

I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. I’m not unattractive or hard to look at, but my appearance has never been a priority. My team has a stylist and a publicist who instruct me on what to wear, how to style my hair and when to speak. It’s easier to navigate this world if someone else is driving it.

“You don’t say much, do you?”

“I speak only when necessary,” I correct her and she rolls her beautiful eyes.

“I bet you’re a hoot at parties.”

“Centre of attention.”

She laughs at my deadpan and takes her drink when it appears, thanking the bartender. Suddenly the crowd screams, bringing our bodies closer. For the first time in a long time, I don’t care about cricket or how badly my team is losing. My focus is on the way this woman is flirting with only her eyes and I’m completely under her spell.

“Let’s find a table.”

Vera grabs her purse and leads the way. I shamelessly ogle her, taking in the curtain of dark hair, the way the dress clings to her lower back and flows over her perfect ass. I also don’t miss how much of her thighs I can see at this angle and it’s intoxicating.

“You done staring at my ass?”

“For now,” I reply as Vera looks over her shoulder at me.

We’re so distracted by each other we miss the hulk of a human heading in our direction. She crashes into him, which causes me to bump into her back, our drinks spilling all over the floor and each other. Hulk growls, eyes narrowing as he focuses on my companion and I hear her respond with a growl of her own.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch.”

“Fuck you, Godzilla, look out for the little people,” Vera snaps back, hand on his chest like she’s attempting to push him away.

He laughs cruelly and reaches for her, but I move faster. Sliding my arm around her waist, I tug Vera back and out of the way. She twists and flails against me, even as he continues to laugh. It was instinct to reach for her with my injured arm, but I don’t even care about the slight spasm in my shoulder because she feels good against me. Once I’ve gotten us away, I release her and she spins to face me with a frown. In all that moving around, her dress has shifted and I’m gifted with a gorgeous view of her breasts and more of the red bra she’s wearing.

I clear my throat. “As much as I would have loved to watch you take the monster on, I didn’t think he was going to go easy on you.”

She scoffs. “I’m scrappy.”

“I believe that,” I say and brush her hair back, tugging away the strands clinging to her lips. The minute we realise what I’m doing, Vera grins. “What?”

“I’m not fucking you because you saved me from the big asshole.”

This woman . I have the most inappropriate things on the tip of my tongue, because now that she’s put the visual in my head of us fucking, it’s all I want.

“What does saving you get me?”

Vera settles into her seat and leans forward on the table. “My fantastic company, obviously.”

“Of course.”

I sit down as well, but instead of being across the weirdly shaped table, I adjust my chair closer to hers. So when she crosses one leg over the other, her foot brushes against the inside of my leg. We sip on our drinks as people continue to cheer and groan around us.

“Who are you, Elias?”

“I’m a guy with the voice, jaw and a smile that could surpass pick-up lines.”

She laughs, nudging me with her foot. “You’re hiding.”

“Right now? Yeah. From the idiot you wanted to pummel to death.”

“Why are you wearing a cap at night in a dark bar?”

I take a slow sip of my beer and ponder if I should tell her or find a way around the truth. Scratching my jaw, I hesitate and use the same hand to push my cap up. Vera’s eyes widen and for a second I think she recognises me.

“You should hide that face, don’t want all the single ladies in here trying to snatch you away from me.”

Don’t worry, Vera. I’m all yours . The thought surprises me and I cover my shock with another sip. “I’m pretty sure there are no ladies here.”

“You’re right. The testosterone is stifling.”

“What are you doing in a sports bar if you don’t like cricket? Especially during the ICL.”

She slumps back in her chair, drawing my attention to her chest briefly; she still hasn’t bothered to straighten out her dress. “I was supposed to meet a guy. Either he showed up, saw me and changed his mind. Or got distracted by the stupid game.”

“Match,” I correct her automatically and get a glare in return. Chuckling, I rest my elbows on the table and unabashedly stare at her. “His loss.”

“Exactly. I’m a fucking dream. He missed out on all of this.”

“Lucky me.”

She smiles, but an eye roll accompanies it as she leans forward. With her arms crossed on the table between us, I can see her breasts almost spilling out of her dress in my periphery. I don’t dare look. Not because it’s the most man thing to do, but because looking away from Vera’s face is impossible. It also makes me very aware of how close we are.

“Is my distaste for cricket a deal breaker?” she asks softly.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

My mind floods with visuals of her spread out on my bed, dress hitched up around her waist as I worship her. It takes serious effort to not adjust myself.

“Nope. But…” I trail off, smiling as she leans forward a little more. “If you tell me you like cats more than dogs, we might have a problem.”

Her lips twitch. The space between our faces keeps reducing and I’m aching to find out what she tastes like, if the fruity-floral scent clings to every inch of her skin.

“What if I don’t like animals at all?”

“I know that’s a lie,” I whisper, eyes dipping to her mouth.

“How do you feel about birds?”

“Depends.”

“On the birds?”

I nod. “Because pigeons are the worst and I could do without crows.”

“Sparrows?”

“Cute.”

“Parakeets?”

“Pretty.”

“Eagles?”

“The band?”

She laughs, her warm breath brushing against my lips. “Both are solid choices.”

Then her mouth is on mine.

There’s no hesitation, just soft lips parting against mine. I moan, the sound surprising me, and I cup her jaw as our heads tilt to the side. I open my mouth and swipe my tongue out, brushing against hers as we lose ourselves to each other. The sounds around us fade away as Vera whimpers and I feel it all the way down to my cock. The kiss breaks and it takes me a few seconds to open my eyes. The commentator’s voice from the television filters through, along with orders being called out and patrons talking.

But my focus is still on the beautiful woman.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“I’m not fucking you because you kiss like that,” I toss her words back at her.

“You’d be lucky to fuck me, handsome.” Vera knocks back her drink and stands. I watch as she adjusts her dress and drags a hand through her hair. When her eyes return to mine, I can’t help but smile. “Come on, we’ve got places to go and booze to drink.”