Page 8

Chapter Eight

Chelsea

"I'm starting to think I should have borrowed some goalie padding from the Dusk Bay Demons," I whispered to Frost. "Then it might be safe to stand between them."

Storm and Atlas stood on opposite sides of the visitors’ locker room. Every so often, they eyed each other.

So far, no one took a swing.

"I know what you mean," Frost whispered back. "The whole flight over, I was expecting one of them to say something to the other. Then it would have been on. I think Dallas wanted to shove them out the door somewhere over the Pacific."

"I've tried to get them to talk to each other, but it's worse than herding cats." I sighed.

"Who's herding cats?" Cautiously, Jay stepped over to us, socks and footy boots in one hand.

"We are," Frost said. "I'm thinking we need to put both of them in a room and not let them out until they talk to each other. What do you think?"

"I think we might open the door to two dead bodies," Jay said regretfully. He glanced over to Atlas, then to Storm, irritation etched on his face.

"That would take care of the problem of them arguing with each other," Frost said slowly. "But I don't like the end result too much. Let's put that in the maybe pile."

Obviously, he had no intention of actually doing that.

At least, I thought it was obvious. Jay looked like he wasn't quite so sure. Or maybe he wouldn't have minded if Storm was gone.

"What's going in the maybe pile?" Dallas joined us in the corner of the locker room.

"Letting Atlas and Storm fight their differences out," Frost said. "If they were hockey players, they'd spend all their time in the penalty box after punching the shit out of each other on the ice. Can't really get away with that on the footy field."

"Not when they play for the same team," Dallas agreed. "I assume they've already compared cock size?"

"I'd say they've had a look," Frost agreed. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows.

"About the same," I said. Both were big and knew how to use them. They wouldn't sort out anything that way.

"They're about as fast as each other, so a foot race wouldn't prove anything," Frost said. "Can Atlas sing?"

Jay grunt-laughed. "If you think cats having their tails pulled sounds good, then yes. Otherwise, no."

"They could have a competition to see who's the worst singer," Frost said. "Storm is pretty bad too. On the other hand, we'd be torturing ourselves."

"I think that can go in the maybe pile too," I said. I liked my eardrums undamaged. Not to mention, they couldn't help it if they weren't good at singing; we didn't need to make a point of proving it.

"Can they cook?" Dallas asked. "We could see who does that better, and get a feed at the same time."

"I don't think they're ready to share a kitchen," I said regretfully. That was a good idea, but not if Atlas was inclined to slip poison into people's food or drink. He might decide it was a good opportunity to get rid of Storm.

"They'd be even in an arm wrestle," Frost mused. "What about a poetry slam?"

I bit back a giggle. "I'd love to see that." I cleared my throat and affected my best poet's tone.

"There was once a woman from Dusk Bay.

She went out for a walk one day.

Saw a bunch of footy players naked.

Then didn't know what to say."

I grimaced. "That was terrible."

All three guys smiled. The cleft in Jay's chin became more pronounced. He really was pretty adorable.

"It wasn't that bad," Jay said. "You should have ended with, they weren't as hot as Jay."

I clicked my fingers and pointed at him. "I knew it was missing something. It's much better that way."

Coach Stanley called for them to get out on the field to warm up.

Jay made a face, but sat down to pull on his socks and boots.

I noticed he was always the first one to take them off and the last to put them on. He must not like the way they felt on his feet, so he waited until the last possible minute.

He clearly found ways to adapt, so he could fit into this world of professional football.

I had to admit, that was hot. He wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of what he wanted, not even himself.

"Do I get a kiss for luck?" Frost asked. "First game of the season." He looked excited and ready to get out there and play.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. As a doctor, I was allowed in the locker room, but I didn't want to push it too far.

"Me too," Dallas said. For once, he seemed focused on the game ahead and not on fucking me. For that, I was grateful. He could easily let me be the distraction he didn't need.

If that happened, I wasn't sure how we'd deal with it. I didn't think he did either, so he forced himself to get his head in the game, where it belonged.

I kissed his cheek, then carefully offered one to Jay once he stood. He let me kiss him, but quickly moved to the door and out onto the field.

I understood, he was never going to be inclined to public displays of affection. Or private ones unless he was totally comfortable with a person. Not everyone was cuddly.

They all filed out, leaving me to follow Doctor Stuart, to stand beside him on the sidelines.

The crowd in Auckland was loud tonight, excited for the game. The stadium was packed and the night was clear if not warm. In a handful of weeks, it would be cold out, but for now it was pleasant. The perfect night for a game of football.

"This is my favourite part," Doctor Stuart said. "Getting to watch a game up close."

A shiver of excitement passed through me. "I've been looking forward to this. And hoping like hell they don't need us." I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I wanted them to get hurt.

"That's always the hope," he agreed. "You know who to keep an eye on, to make sure they don't exacerbate any past injuries."

I held up my board with my notes on it. "Yes I do. Including Atlas' nose." A broken nose wouldn't stop him from playing, but if anything connected with it, it would hurt like a bitch. A fact, no doubt, he was well aware of, and trying his best to avoid.

"Wouldn't want to do further damage to his good looks," Doctor Stuart said with a hint of sarcasm.

If he was anyone else, I might have thought he was trying to insult Atlas, but it was just his dry humour. He was definitely not trying to get a rise out of me.

What would he think if he knew what Atlas did to Bruce? I had a feeling he'd have no choice but to contact the police. Given my brother already conducted the autopsy on the dead GM, Doctor Stuart would have no proof to offer them. He might end up looking like he was out of his mind.

Still, he'd do what he was obligated to do.

So would Atlas. Bruce might not be the only one the team lost.

No, we'd all be better off if Doctor Stuart never knew the truth. I liked working with him and I had a lot to learn. I much preferred it if no one murdered him.

I realised I hadn't responded to him. "Definitely not. We wouldn't want to ruin any of the guys' good looks. Just think what that would do to all those endorsements."

"They might get more of them," Doctor Stuart joked. "Don't women love a damaged hero?"

"I suppose we do," I agreed. I loved them in my romance novels, and judging by the guys I was involved with, apparently I loved them in person too. As long as they were only damaged, not broken.

The crowd roared as the home team trotted out onto the field and started to warm up.

Some of those boys were huge. Taller and broader than ours. Each one looked more fierce than the last.

They warmed up quickly before forming a line to do the Haka, the ancient Maori war dance, designed to intimidate the enemy. The shouts, growls and stamping would have intimidated the hell out of me if I was their enemy too.

In this context, it was always entertaining. I could watch them perform all day. There was something hot about the performance. Something incredibly masculine and powerful.

The crowd cheered as the players finished and moved into place.

A light breeze picked up, ruffling my hair and clothes.

Everything about this moment was perfect. I was finally here , right where I was supposed to be. Watching my guys and the rest of the team taking on the tough New Zealand team. I could almost not get my head around it.

Me, Doctor Chelsea Miller, was here , in New Zealand, in a professional capacity. An actual member of the team, not just a hopeful anymore.

"It never gets old," Doctor Stuart said. "Any of this. If it ever does, then you need to find another job."

"I can't imagine ever getting bored of this," I said with a contented sigh.

"I never will," Doctor Otis Skinner stepped over to join us. He'd been deep in conversation with the opposition's team doctor.

I'd caught the words 'water' and 'promising' as he spoke, as animated as I'd seen him in our brief interactions together. He was generally composed, always calm and in control. This was a man who wouldn't take a swing at anyone. The sort of man you didn't turn your back on, if you knew what was good for you.

Where other people were closed books, Otis Skinner was one with the shrink wrap still in place.

"Settling in well?" Doctor Stuart asked him.

"Well enough," Skinner said. His dark eyes regarded me before turning back to Doctor Stuart. "This team is an interesting one."

"That it is," Doctor Stuart said lightly. "A mix of skills and abilities. I'm sure we have a lot to learn from each other."

Skinner looked at him like he didn't think he'd have much to learn from Doctor Stuart, but he nodded once, slowly. "I'm sure."

"Doctor Stuart was saying you have an interest in aqua therapy," I said.

"That's correct," Skinner said simply.

"I look forward to finding out more from you," I said. I felt as though I was babbling to fill the awkward silence.

"Good," was Skinner's response. Once again, his expression revealed nothing but a hint of annoyance. Was that aimed at me, or something else? I couldn't tell.

My lips moved, but no more words came out. What could I say to that anyway?

Hopefully, he wouldn't prove difficult to work with, but if he was, I'd roll with it.

Whatever his problem was, I wouldn't make it mine.

I made a quick mental note to insist my guys not kill him if he was cold to me, or to them. At this rate, I'd need to make a list for them. And for my brother. He'd probably enjoy having Skinner down in his workroom, chained to the ceiling. If only to see what it would take to get a response from him.

I sighed softly and turned to the field as the game began.