Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (33 page)

“
C
an we afford an executive box
?” Sophia asked. “This all seems rather extravagant, given our financial situation now.”

“Our financial situation has changed,” I replied, “but I’ll tell you about that later. We’re not paying for anything today. It’s all free hospitality.”

“Why are people paying for us to come to watch a rugby match?”

“Stop complaining, Sophia,” Ellie huffed. “We get to spend the day admiring big, muscular men in tight shorts. I’d have paid a lot of money to be here.”

“Yeah,” Dani agreed. “This isn’t cricket, after all. Now that, you’d have to pay me for.”

By the end of the day, I’d likely regret inviting Ellie and Dani along with us, but Sophia always seemed happier when they were around, and I’d do anything to keep a smile on her face. The girls kept her grounded, and helped her forget she was a celebrity of sorts, even with all the special treatment we were getting today.

“We still attract attention,” I explained. “The club looks good with us in the crowd, so it’s a win-win situation. Except for the fact that I have to watch a West London game.”

A security guard escorted us up to a corporate box just as the match was starting. Rugby was very much a secondary passion after football, but I did have a weakness for Harlequins, who just happened to be rivals with West London.

Once we all had drinks in hand, Ellie and Dani disappeared outside and took a seat in the stands—anything to get closer to the men, I suppose.

“We can go outside too, if you like,” I suggested.

“Let’s stay here for a bit. You can explain the rules to me, so I don’t sound like an ignorant American out in the crowd. Is there an offside rule in rugby like there is in soccer?”

“Sort of.”

“Shit. I hate that one.”

Sophia stripped off her coat and scarf, revealing her slender curves under a tight jumper. Maybe I should have arranged for a little more privacy. How long had it been since we’d had sex? I checked my watch: about three hours. I’d started cooking some lunch, which apparently Sophia found sexy as all hell, so we got down and dirty, while the eggs remained unwhisked and the toast burned.

“Are you nervous about being in the public eye again?” I asked. “I know it’s a big step coming out again like this.”

“We have to do it at some point,” Sophia replied. “Everyone must be so confused seeing us together after you publicly declared our divorce. You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with my mom.”

“I overheard some of it. You were trying to explain why we were more in love than ever, but getting divorced anyway. I guess it does sound a little crazy.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Sophia rubbed the spot on her ring finger where the engagement and wedding rings had both taken pride of place until a week ago. I’d suggested putting them in a drawer in case we ever needed them again, but Sophia had insisted on selling them. She’d been right; the rings made a small fortune in a charity auction. Far more than I paid for them in the first place. It seemed unusual that a metal band could increase in value just by spending time on Sophia’s finger, but then I decided that actually made perfect sense. Sophia improved anything she touched, and that included me.

“Is this a big game?” Sophia asked. “The crowd seems up for it.”

“There’s nothing special about the game,” I replied. “But one of the players, Oliver Cornish, is kind of a hero. This is his first game since almost single-handedly winning England the World Cup. Even the opposition fans respect him, and that’s saying something.”

I tried to watch the game from the comfort of our soft leather seats, but my eyes kept turning back to Sophia. She looked adorable as she tried to process what was happening on the pitch in front of her.

“Why aren’t they passing it forward?” Sophia asked. “There’s loads of space behind the opposition line. Someone could run through and pick up a pass.”

“You can’t pass it forward. It’s against the rules.”

“It’s against the rules to pass it forward?” Sophia asked incredulously.

“Yep.”

“Is that a rule in soccer as well, because it would explain a lot about why English sports are boring as hell.”

“I really need to take you to a football game. That’s a real sport, but rugby’s cool too. It’s like American football without the body armor. Ellie and Dani seem to like it.”

“We both know why they’re enjoying it.”

With impeccable timing, Ellie and Dani both wolf whistled as Oliver Cornish approached the line for a throw. I’d expected him to retire after the World Cup, but some players just had that natural hunger in them; a fire that wouldn’t go away. Oliver looked up for it today; I just wished he weren’t playing for West London.

A waitress came over and offered us another glass of wine, but Sophia and I both needed caffeine after a few too many last night. For me, that meant a cup of tea. For Sophia, it was coffee.

“It’ll be me serving the coffee again on Monday,” Sophia said, once she had her hands around a hot mug.

“You don’t have to go back to work.”

“I want to. Besides, we need the money. No more playboy lifestyle for you either.”

“I don’t want to be a playboy anymore. However—”

“However?” Sophia asked with raised eyebrows. “You’d better not be going back to sleeping around my college again.”

“I’m not sure there are many left,” I replied with a grin. “But that’s not what I meant. Remember I said our financial situation has changed?”

“Yeah. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m collecting the inheritance.”

“What? How?”

“I got that palace solicitor to look into the trust. Turns the trust has very specific language about me marrying a woman.”

“We knew that already.”

“The solicitor—being a typical smartarse—pointed out that if I were gay, the clause requiring me to marry a woman would be unconscionable.”

“Please God don’t tell me you're planning to fake a marriage to a guy this time?”

“I was a little worried that’s where the solicitor was going, but he said we could challenge the clause without me actually proving I’m gay. The trustee backed down instantly. No one wants to be the guy upholding a discriminatory clause, so he declared it invalid. The money’s mine.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. Still want to go back to serving coffee?”

“Maybe not.”

We sat there holding hands in silence, until Sophia finally decided she wanted to get out from behind the glass and watch the game with the fans.

“They’ll spot us in the crowd,” I warned. “It might take five minutes, but I guarantee you they will spot us.”

“So what if they do? My boobs are already on the internet for all to see. A bit of banter from the crowd shouldn’t be a huge problem.”

It didn’t take five minutes. The second we stepped outside, the fans nearby turned around to look at us and that reaction spread throughout the ground like a Mexican wave.

Then came the chanting.

“What are they singing?” Sophia asked.

I looked over at Ellie and Dani, who were both trying hard not to laugh. “They are imploring you to show your chest,” I replied tactfully.

“Get your tits out for the lads,” the crowd chanted. “Get your tits out, get your tits out, get your tits out for the lads.”

“Oh,” Sophia said. “I hear them now.”

“We can go back inside if you like?” I offered.

We both knew Sophia was going to be the subject of gossip and rude gestures for a while yet, but this was definitely a baptism of fire.

“No, it’s okay,” Sophia replied. “Could be worse.”

Ellie and Dani leaned over to offer their support and the girls all started laughing and joking. Perhaps it had been a good idea to bring them along. The three of them stood up in unison, in the way women did when they all planned to go to the toilet together.

I turned my legs to the side to let them past, but they didn’t move.

“On three,” Ellie said loudly. “One. Two. Three.”

The three of them—perfectly in sync—all lifted up their jumpers and bras, flashing their breasts to the crowd. I quickly looked away before I got accused of looking at more than just Sophia’s, but I was the only one in the ground who did.

Tens of thousands of men all wolf-whistled in unison as the girls waved their tits around for five seconds that seemed to last an eternity.

Eventually, they all sat down and carried on watching the game as if nothing had happened. I stared at Sophia, my eyebrows having taken up permanent residency at the top of my head.

“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s not like they haven’t seen mine before. And fuck it, they’re only boobs.”

“They’re not
only boobs
. They’re the best boobs I’ve ever had my hands on. Speaking of which, I know we promised to have dinner with the girls but do you think we could—”

“Take a detour via the hotel? Yeah, I think we could swing that. I like to work up an appetite before eating.”

“
W
hat are
you going to do with your last week in England?” Ellie asked.

“We don’t have any plans,” I replied.

“Gotcha,” Ellie replied with a smile. She’d correctly deciphered the code for ‘we plan to stay in bed all day and screw.’

I’d been excitedly counting down the days to my final day at work, but now that it had arrived, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness. Serving coffee wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but working with Ellie had been fun, and I’d met so many cool people here, including George.

No one gossiped about me any more—at least not in here. In the first few weeks after George’s big announcement, the coffee shop had been noticeably more full than usual, and there had been plenty of gawking. That died down quickly, and now people didn’t even look up when I served them their drinks. Just how I liked it.

“Soy latte for Chris,” I yelled out, as I placed the coffee down on the counter. I’d finally gotten the hang of doing some very basic shapes in the foam, so at least I could say I’d learned something from this experience.

“I still can’t believe you’re working here,” Ellie said after serving another customer. “You don’t need the money.”

“It keeps me grounded,” I replied. “And I get to hang out with you of course.”

“That’s sweet, but if I were in your shoes, the only thing you’d see of me is Facebook pictures from the beach of whatever Caribbean island I happen to be on that week.”

“We have plenty of time for all that. I came here to get a master’s degree, and not end up in a tonne of debt. I don’t want to go back to America without that.”

“Why?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. A sense of accomplishment? A feeling that I’m not a total failure?”

“You just want to say ‘I told you so’ to your mother.”

“Yep, that’s about the gist of it.”

“You’re going to come back to England though, right?”

“Definitely,” I replied.

George and I had discussed living in America for a bit, but I struggled to find the enthusiasm to move back home. Old friends had crawled out of the woodwork during my time in the spotlight, but their two-dimensional attempts to reconnect just made me realize how little I need them. These were the same people who’d known about Stan sleeping with my best friend, and they may have even slept with Stan as well for all I knew.

My real friends were here, and I didn’t intend to leave them behind for very long. I’d have to figure out the visa situation, but I’d find a way. We’d find a way.

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed in California for a while,” Ellie said.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. I’ve always wanted to visit, but I can barely afford the flights, let alone the accommodation.”

“Glad to know I can come in use,” I replied.

“I know American women like British accents on men, but do you think American men will like a woman with an English accent?”

“They won’t know what your accent is. The first time we spoke, I only understood about fifty percent of the words you used.”

“Oh. Guess I’d better start learning the Queen’s English.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine as you are. All men understand the language of big, bouncy boobs, and a beautiful smile.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks screwing all those hot surfers I see on television.”

“I’m from Northern California. We don’t have hot surfers, we have pretentious hipsters.”

“Well… you should move.”

“You’re probably right,” I said with a smile.

I knew where I wanted to live, and it wasn’t California. It was right here in Yorkshire. It might not be the most metropolitan part of the country, but I’d already decided that London wasn't for me.

George and I stayed in London for a month after the announcement and we were treated like royalty the entire time. We could go where we wanted, when we wanted. Sports stadiums and concert venues opened their doors to us, and we drank at so many exclusive clubs and bars that I eventually got bored of meeting celebrities. Ellie would never forgive me if she knew I’d turned down the chance to meet Lady Gaga because I’d wanted an early night. George was just as bad. I’d wanted to go to a club to meet Jennifer Lawrence, but George had insisted we go back to the hotel instead.

The special treatment quickly grew tiresome. We didn’t deserve it. We were just two people who had fallen in love. That was more than enough for me.

I’d told George that I wanted to finish my degree, so we’d come back to Yorkshire, and immediately I felt at home again. We got our fair share of curious glances, but if we wanted to get into a club we had to stand in line like everyone else. I loved it.

Even the accent had grown on me, and you couldn’t beat being referred to as “pet.” It was like being welcomed into the family. Not that I could use the word myself. I’d said it once to a customer, but he just looked at me with a bemused expression on his face.

“I hope we’re still on for drinks tonight?” Ellie asked.

“Sure. I’m not the one who has to work tomorrow. How about going back to Viva? Seems an appropriate place given how eventful our last visit was.”

Ellie laughed. “Yeah, I’m up for that. Today is all about the déjà vu it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Can George make it?”

“He goes where I tell him,” I joked. “Speak of the devil.”

George walked through the doors of the café looking surprisingly overdressed for a hot spring day. Not that I was complaining. No one could pull off the suit look quite like George. He’d forsaken the tie, and had a few shirt buttons undone, which probably went some way to explaining why I liked the look so much.

“Hi, George the Ninth,” Ellie said loudly.

The nickname had stuck, and no one took more pleasure in using it in public than Ellie. She even wrote “George IX” on this cup whenever he came in for a drink. George had tried referring to Ellie as “Ellie 34D” but it didn’t have quite the same ring to it. Not to mention, he got her size completely wrong.

“Hi, Ellie,” George replied quietly.

“Everything okay?” I asked. George didn’t have his usual confidence or swagger about him today, and he’d been cryptic about what he’d been up to the last few days. I hadn’t been worried about it—until now.

“I’m not sure yet,” George replied.

“How did your meeting go?”

“I got what I needed.”

George looked behind me to Ellie, and then back to me. He had bad news. We were set for money, so it wasn’t that. Could he not come to America with me anymore?

“Sophia, would you go collect those cups from that empty table?” Ellie asked.

“You’re going to miss bossing me around when I’m gone.”

“Stop complaining and go get the cups, love.”

“She’s only this annoying when you’re here,” I said to George, as I went around the counter towards the empty table.

“That’s my fault,” George said. “She’s doing me a favor.”

I walked towards the table, but George blocked my way. Ellie mentioned déjà vu earlier, and suddenly I knew what she meant.

George dropped to one knee in front of me and took hold of my left hand. “We didn’t do it properly last time and that was my fault. This time I want it to be perfect. You’re my princess and always will be. You deserve to get married like one.”

He pulled out a small box from the inside of his jacket pocket and opened it in front of me.

“Sophia Simpkins, will you marry me?”

I didn’t look down at the ring. I didn’t need to. The size of the rock didn’t matter. All that I cared about was the love and affection I saw in his eyes. I knew I wanted to wake up to that look every day for the rest of my life.

My mouth couldn’t even form the one-syllable word response, so I just nodded my head frantically until George stood and lifted me up in his arms. I was vaguely aware of some clapping and cheering in the background, but all I could see through tear-filled eyes was Ellie wiping her own tears from her cheeks.

My last maid of honor had betrayed me. This time, I knew I’d be in safe hands. I had the perfect man and the perfect friends.

Life couldn’t get any better.

“We’re going to do it right this time,” George whispered in my ear.

“I don’t care how we do it,” I replied. “I just want to be with you.”

“I’ve already booked the honeymoon.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’d love to spend two weeks looking at you in a bikini,” George replied. “But I made a promise to you and I’m a man of my word. We’re going skiing.”

T
HE END