Page 13 of The Scrum-Half (Lincoln Knights #3)

Matty

“No, no, I’m sorry but they are so wrong for sending Berry home.

Her look wasn’t even that bad! She should have been safe at least,” I said, gesturing at the TV where the credits were rolling on the second episode of Drag Stars Legends.

I wasn’t familiar with all the queens because I was still catching up with all the US series—since there were sixteen seasons and I didn’t have much free time—but Harper was happy to fill me in as we went with an unexpectedly snarky level of commentary.

“Right? Thank you!” Harper waved his hands and flopped back on the sofa, his face the picture of vindication.

“If anyone should have been in that elimination, it should have been Saint James because she was horrible to Berry during the challenge. I don’t care how snatched she is, I hate that level of petty bitchiness.

Like, yeah, you’re good at make-up. So what?

It doesn’t make you special. Learn to be a nice person.

Then people will actually want to root for you. ”

I nodded, fighting back a laugh because watching him get so wound up was cuter than I’d expected.

But I couldn’t deny how much I liked the fact he valued being kind over being the best. It was too sweet for words.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of the way she picks on the other queens.

I know reading is part of being a drag artist, but she takes it too far. ”

“It’s okay. You can say she makes being a bitch her entire personality and uses it to cover for her lack of talent. I won’t judge you,” Harper said crisply as he picked up one of the chocolates from the box Hannah had given him, pushing it slowly between his lips while I tried hard not to stare.

“I mean, is she completely talentless? Not that I’m defending her. I think she’s a bitch too.”

“No, you’re right.” Harper sighed and pouted.

“Saint James is actually really talented. That’s what frustrates me so much!

She’s such a good drag artist—she doesn’t need to put other people down.

I don’t know if she’s insecure or if she’s jealous or if this has been edited to take things wildly out of context.

I mean, every reality show needs a villain, but she still said that stuff. ”

“True, but I’m sure the edit doesn’t make it any better. Was she like this in her first season?” I hadn’t seen the season where Saint James appeared as a contestant because it had been a few years and I was still working back to it.

“Yes and no,” Harper said as he picked up another chocolate and examined it casually.

His nails were painted a soft green with little daisies on.

Perfect for spring. “She definitely knew she was good at what she did, and she got a bit more of the bitch edit, but that season was when—oh no! I can’t tell you! You have to watch it!”

“What happened?”

“No, honestly, I can’t tell you. It’s so much better if you watch it.”

“You know I could just Google it?”

“Please don’t. I promise you’ll thank me for it,” he said earnestly, his expression a mix of giddy excitement and pleading. And it was one I couldn’t say no to.

“Fine, but we are absolutely going to start watching it now or I’ll have to look it up,” I said. “Plus, if it was that big a deal, I’m pretty sure someone will mention it on Legends .”

“Oh, they definitely will. Okay, do you want to start now or tomorrow?” Harper asked as he grabbed the remote control from between us.

We’d spent most of the evening since Jack had left with Hannah chilling out together, making dinner to share before sprawling on the sofa with the chocolates and shortbread from Harper’s gift bag.

The gift hadn’t surprised me because Hannah had always loved giving gifts for any and every occasion, but the fact Harper had been willing to spend his free time with me did.

None of my previous nannies had ever spent any time with me, nor had I expected or wanted them to.

But things with Harper were different. Harper was different.

And the fact he wanted to hang out with me, watching Drag Stars , chatting, and sharing his chocolates, made me happy in a way I couldn’t explain.

Loneliness was something I’d become well accustomed to over the past few years, so maybe my brain was simply rejoicing over having someone to talk to who wasn’t a toddler or a work colleague.

But deep down, I knew my isolation was because I’d pushed people away for reasons I tried not to think about.

There were parents on the team I could have regularly hung out with, and three or four who’d have been happy to chat about Drag Stars , but I’d never mentioned it to them.

It was like part of me wanted to be lonely. Or had at least embraced it.

Probably because I’d been hurt by so many people in the past who were supposed to care about me.

But that couldn’t happen if there weren’t people around me in the first place.

Except Harper had begun to worm his way into my brain through the cracks in my grumpy facade simply by being himself.

“Let’s watch one now,” I said, reaching for a piece of shortbread. “Then I need to go to bed or I’ll be tired at training tomorrow.”

Harper nodded as he pushed his glasses up his nose, then scrolled through the various streaming service menus to find the season we needed. “Do you do much the day before a game? Or is it mostly light prep work?”

“Mostly prep—stretches, gentle weights, team bonding. Nothing too strenuous or anything that’s going to cause injury. And then we eat a lot, especially the front row. They’ll probably pack away about seven or eight thousand calories each. I’ll need about four thousand.”

“Seven thousand calories?” Harper stared at me, mouth slightly open.

“I know. It sounds mad but trust me, they need it. They’re all built like tanks anyway, and they need the calorie reserves so they can actually play the full eighty minutes. It’s a lot of carbs and protein. But luckily we have a canteen, and Chef will make sure we all get enough.”

“Cool. So will you need dinner tomorrow?”

“I thought you were going out?” I asked, confused for a second. Harper had mentioned getting a ticket for The Court’s monthly variety show, so I’d assumed he’d be out for the whole evening.

“Yeah, but the show doesn’t start until half seven, and I was going to eat beforehand because otherwise I won’t get anything until much later. But if you’re eating at the club, that’s absolutely fine. I can just make myself something.”

“Er, yeah, I probably will but I’ll be back before you leave.

” That didn’t really answer his question but I was still wrapping my head around the idea of us making dinner together being a regular thing.

We’d only done it a few times, including that evening, but apparently Harper was happy for it to be an everyday occurrence.

I supposed it made sense, but I thought I probably should have been more resistant to it than I was.

After all, he was Jack’s nanny. He and I weren’t supposed to be doing… whatever this was. Becoming friends?

A friend I had a massive, stinking crush on. A friend I paid to look after my son. Yes, this was definitely going to end well.

“Okay, are you ready?” Harper asked, shooting me a smile as he nodded at the TV where he’d found the first episode of Saint James’s season.

“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to seeing the chaos.”

He hit play and the customary start of the season introduction began to play, but I found myself only half watching.

The rest of the time I was glancing over at Harper, drinking in all the tiny details of his face and the way his expression changed.

He was so open and free with his emotions, unafraid to show even the smallest shift.

I doubted he’d be afraid to cry or rage or laugh until his face ached. There was something beautiful in that.

I kept thinking about how lucky I’d be if Jack was anything like Harper, but what I really wanted was for Harper to stay in our lives.

We’d barely even acknowledged our attraction to each other, let alone acted on it, and that was as long as I was reading the situation right.

Otherwise, I might as well fuck myself with a cactus because it would be less painful.

If I wanted something to happen, I’d have to actually do something about it.

Not tonight, though, and not this weekend either. I had a rugby game to play and the team needed me to focus.

My personal desires could wait until Sunday night at the earliest.

I managed to keep my mind off Harper throughout most of Saturday, instead focusing everything I had on the upcoming game.

This was a must win for us, so if anyone thought I was acting more serious than usual, nobody said anything because they were all feeling the pressure.

Weirdly, though, the game didn’t worry me.

I knew we were good, and we deserved the win.

Anything else was just noise.

But all my focus faded away as soon as I walked into the house and was met by Harper walking down the stairs looking so fucking gorgeous I nearly swallowed my tongue.

A pair of low-rise, wide-legged jeans accentuated the length of his legs and the curve of his arse, and the cropped sunshine yellow T-shirt he’d paired it with highlighted his waist with acres of soft-looking skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans.

I could even see a hint of his underwear, which was an equally bright yellow with a dark waistband and seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

Fucking Christ, he was going to kill me.

“Hey,” I said as I tried not to stare. “You look… nice.”

“Yeah? You think so? I wondered if it was a bit much.” He looked down at himself and smiled nervously. He’d swapped his glasses for a pair of contact lenses, and his face looked totally different without them. Not bad, just different.

“Definitely not. You’re going to a drag bar. You might even be underdressed.”

“Should I change?”

“No! Well, not unless you want to. It’s totally up to you.” I threw my hands out, then pulled them back because I looked like I was trying to flag down a plane. “Just, er, wear whatever makes you feel good. And that you’re comfortable in. But if it helps, I think you look great.”

He nodded, his smile brightening. “Thanks. Okay, I’ll stick with this.”

“Great.” I tried to return his smile but my face felt strangely stiff.

“How was training?” Harper asked as he began rummaging in his bag, which was hanging on the end of the banister, shoving his wallet into the pocket of his jeans alongside a lip gloss.

He’d repainted his nails at some point today, and now they were a similar yellow to his top with little smiley faces stamped onto them.

“Good, yeah, um, it was good,” I said, my brain stuck on what his hands would look like wrapped around my cock or clutching my bedsheets. I needed to get a damn grip before I said something I couldn’t take back.

Like, stay here with me.

Come back to me.

Please .

“Sorry.” I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts together. “Just a bit tired. There’s a lot riding on the game tomorrow—at this stage in the season every point counts and we’re all a little, er, stressed about it.”

“You’re fine,” Harper said. “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Kiss me .

“No, I’m good. Just going to have a chilled evening and maybe get an early night. I live a very exciting life.” I forced a chuckle in the hope Harper might believe everything was fine. Or maybe it was to fool myself.

“That sounds nice, though. And you need it before tomorrow. I’m looking forward to seeing you play.”

“Thanks. I hope it’ll be a good one.”

“I’m sure it will.”

There was a slight pause as we looked at each other, tension fizzing in the air, waiting for one of us to say something. Anything!

“Did you have some dinner?” I asked. The question was pathetic, but it was all I could think of. I’d told myself I had to wait and I was so close now. Just one more day.

“Yeah. I made too much, though, so if you want some leftover gnocchi bake, there’s some in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced at his phone, his face twitching. “Oh, it’s already seven. I should get going.”

“I can take you, if that’s easier.”

“No, it’s fine. Honestly! I looked it up and there’s parking not too far away, and I don’t drink, so I’ll be fine to drive home.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. The last gasp of the desperate. I just needed a few more minutes, even though I knew he’d be coming home later. But it was now that mattered.

“I’m sure.” He smiled at me and began to walk towards the front door, grabbing his keys as he passed the little hook above the shoe cabinet. “Have a good night! I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun,” I said as he slipped out of the door, leaving me standing there alone.

Counting down the minutes until he came back.