Jock Rule (Jock Hard #2)(52)

I train my eyes on him as he dips low to tackle an opponent, heels digging into the ground for traction.

“What position is he? Fullback? Linebacker?”

“You’re confusing rugby with soccer and football.” Miranda chuckles. “Kip is a loose head because he’s bigger and heavier. They wouldn’t put him in the back—they need him in the front.”

“Not that he stays there.” Renee smirks. “He’s a ball hog.”

That doesn’t surprise me.

“So what’s his job?”

“Well…hmm.” Miranda thinks. “He lifts guys up in the scrum—that giant pile we just saw. He mauls people like a savage and shoves dudes out of the way.”

Renee nods along her agreement. “Yup. That about sums it up, but if you really want to find out more, google it.”

I will. For sure.

The game drags on, the ground unrelentingly cold. I’m relieved when the final whistle blows and the referee calls the game in our favor. The girls pack up to leave, and I rise along with them since I brought nothing.

“Come over with us and say hi to Kip.” Renee has the blanket folded over her arm and pulls at my jacket with her free hand.

“No, that’s okay. You guys go, I’m gonna just…I’m gonna go.”

“Why? He’ll be happy to see you.”

“I…no. I’ll feel weird. We’re not dating or anything.”

Rushing the boys after the match seems like a girlfriend-y thing to do, and I know I’m not close to that level with Kip.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He’s not likely to notice when I don’t show up at their side.

The two girls rush off to gush over their boyfriends and congratulate them on their victory, hugging and kissing them all over. I give Kip one last look before turning my back—he’s bent over the bench, untying a cleat, perfect rear end in the air, black socks highlighting his ridiculous calves.

I sigh, walking toward the car I borrowed from Tessa to get here, the beige Camry she’s been sweet enough to loan me from time to time to make my life easier.

It’ll be a few more years before I’ll be able to save enough to afford a car.

“Teddy! Wait up.”

I pause at Kip’s voice, at the sound of his cleats clicking across the pavement in my direction.

“Where you goin’?”

I look him up and down.

“How are you so dirty?” are the first words out of my mouth by way of greeting, because honestly, he’s filthy. Positively covered in dirt and grime. “It’s not even raining—how are you caked with mud?”

Those giant shoulders shrug. “Don’t know.”

He looks like a Viking warrior, tall and imposing and blond. Beard knotted with that rubber band, so it’s out of his way, hair falling out all over the damn place.

He’s a Viking who just did battle in a yellow and black jersey.

Feet spread apart, he’s breathing heavily and regarding me under the now illuminated street lamps. We’ve been here so long it’s gotten dark, the parking lot beginning to empty as players and spectators head home.

“So…where you going?” he asks again, hands going up behind his head. Biceps bulging.

“Home?”

“Why?”

Uh. Was home not the right answer? “I have to return Tessa’s car, but, I mean, I don’t have plans to do anything.”

“You’re not coming over?”

He wants me to come over? He saw me last night and this morning—isn’t that enough? “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

“I don’t have any plans either.”

“Of course not—it’s not Friday night.” I find myself winking at him flirtatiously.

“We could go see a movie.” His legs are still spread apart, the cold air causing his breath—and mine—to puff out in a slow stream of steam.

“After the match you just played? You must be tired.” And beat, if the blood on his jersey is any indication, the scratch on his knee and the gash in his lip…

Jesus, he looks like hell.

Like a total brute.

And I kind of like it.

“Or we could order a pizza, ice my leg, and sit around doing nothing,” he offers, hands still clasped behind his head. It makes his chest look wider and harder, mesh jersey stretched taught across it.

Damn he’s in good shape.

“That’s what I usually do,” he goes on.

“We could.”

His arms come down, hands falling to his sides, settling the matter. “I’ll follow you so you can drop off Tessa’s car then take you to my place.”

He says it casually, as if it’s that easy, like we’ve done it a million times before.

“All right.”

“Cool.”

Cool.





SECOND SATURDAY (After Game)


“Go ahead. Touch it.”


Kip

Something is on Teddy’s mind; I can tell by the way she keeps looking at me. Small, quick, furtive glances when she thinks I’m not watching her—which I am.

She’s been flushed since we got to my place, a ball of nervous energy I can’t quite figure out the cause of.