Holding Out for a Hero (8 page)

“Hey,” Jake said, his thumb drying another tear. “Don’t cry.”

She gave a gurgle of embarrassment as she shook her head, trying to evade his touch and his gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m not usually this emotional.”

Jake nodded. He would never have described her as a weepy woman and God knew he’d known a few of them. In high school, despite often extreme provocation, she’d been Little-Miss-Aloof. She’d perfected a shrivel-up-and-die stare that had put even the most moronic teenage boy into a hasty retreat. Hell, even at her mother’s funeral she’d been dry-eyed and stoic.

“It’s just—it’s been a tough couple of years and … I never thought I’d suck this badly at being a big sister.”

He was nodding and his eyes were full of compassion, full of knowing, and that was the clincher: Jake
did
know. And Ella hated it. Hated that this guy … this
footballer
guy knew stuff about her past. Knew about her ostracism, her isolation, her loneliness. Knew that behind the woman she was today and the aloof teenager she’d been, there lurked a little girl who’d just wanted to be accepted. His eyes were telling her he understood and despite how much she hated it, on the back of Cam’s insult, it was surprisingly comforting.

“I swear to God, Jake, if you don’t stop looking at me like that then I’m going to be bawling like a baby.”

Jake smiled. “Like what?”

His thumb swept across the ridge of her cheekbone and it was so gentle Ella felt her eyelids flutter closed. They opened again and the look in his eyes had changed. His pupils had dilated, the green intensified. He was staring at her mouth. Was he closer? Her body swayed a little.

“Like what, Ella?”

Like you want to kiss me.
“Jake.”

He heard the warning note in her voice. Except it was husky with more than a hint of hunger and when he took a step closer she didn’t back up and when her gaze dropped to his mouth kissing her became a force that would not be denied.

Ella sighed against his mouth as his lips settled on hers. They felt good, soft and gentle and she welcomed his slow, lazy exploration. But when his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, a heat down low took hold and she wanted more than gentle. She wanted to feel the full force of his kiss. She wanted open mouths and questing tongues and warm, bare skin. She parted her lips, inviting him in and when he obliged, she moaned and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

The trilling of the school bell echoing around the building was like the proverbial bucket of ice water. They both pulled away, their pulses leaping at the unexpected intrusion, panting from pure, unadulterated lust.

It took a second for Ella to grapple her thoughts back from the abyss of pleasure still swirling around her feet and sucking at her belly. She looked around. She could hear students rushing by in the corridor, laughing and joking on their way to their final lesson for the day.

They were standing in her office, in front of the window. For the entire world to see. Anyone could have caught them. A student. A parent. Donald Wiseman from the education review board with the creepy smile and a habit of touching himself an awful lot during his many unannounced visits. God knew the train full of passengers sitting at the station opposite seemed to be inordinately interested in the goings on. Just as well the bell had rung or they may have been treated to a much more interesting show. A moment ago he could have stripped her naked, pushed her against the glass and taken her from behind and she would have given them a performance worthy of Paris Hilton.

“Of course, if you want to sleep with me then I could always make Cameron team captain.”

Ella blinked, surprised to find she was still in the cradle of his arms. He cocked an eyebrow and she found herself responding to his teasing suggestion with a smile of her own.

She pushed out of the circle of his arms and walked to her desk on legs that weren’t quite steady. “Forget it. I’m not going to sleep with you, Jake.”

“What? Ever?”

She smiled again at his mocking tone. “Ever.”

He chuckled. “Well that’s a long time.”

She shrugged. “It’s called self-control. Maybe you should try it some time.”

He walked toward her desk, stood on the opposite side and planted his fists on the edge. “You weren’t big on self-control a couple of years back.”

Ella swallowed at the mention of that day. She should be mad but with today’s kiss still fresh on her lips, she was just plain turned on. Goddamn it! This was her office, her dominion. He might have invaded it but it was still her turf. And this was an entirely inappropriate conversation.

“The sex with you was just anger and frustration and to prove a point, Jake, and you know it. I’m not going backward.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m backward?”

“You’re Huntley, Jake—I left there a long time ago and I’m not going back.”

“It felt like you wanted to go back when you stuck your tongue in my mouth just now.”

Ella felt a rush of heat and beat it back, deciding to change tack. “You do know that abstinence doesn’t kill people, right?” God knew she’d have been dead a long time ago.

Jake nodded. “It sure makes them mighty pissed off though.” He pushed off the desk and picked up his clipboard.

“And this you would know how?”

He grinned. “See you at the oval.”

*

Ella watched Cameron’s face as Pete read out the names. A lump rose in her throat as she watched the play of emotions. First stunned disbelief, then a slow dawning as a tentative smile grew into a grin as big as the Great Australian Bight. The lump swelled to life-threatening proportions as his eyes sought hers and she saw tears shining in his tough-kid gaze.

She gave him the thumbs up and he actually returned them. In fact every kid whose name was called out stood an extra inch higher and Ella couldn’t remember ever feeling such a charge of optimism in all her years at Hanniford. A transformation was happening before her eyes. Kids who never had any expectations from life suddenly looked bullet-proof and she dared to hope for the first time that they might just pull this off.

But her heart went out to the guys who weren’t picked. She knew what it was like to be the last one standing when it came to being chosen for teams and then being reluctantly included. She knew they’d put their all into the process and she could see their shoulders slump as the one bright light on their horizon was snuffed out.

She made a mental note to talk to Eddie Springer, the P.E. teacher. Maybe he could get a couple of touch teams together and organize an in-house comp. Girls could join too. They could really build on the momentum that had begun. Engage some more students, keep them interested in school, let them know that she and Hanniford High cared.

Jake turned to the shaggy-haired, inexperienced crew before him and wondered how the hell he was ever going to pull this off. Sure, there was some good raw talent, but he had to create in one season what professionals, what the other teams in the comp, would have built up over years and years of playing and competing: unity, synergy, trust.

He looked at Ella and then at Miranda, so like Trish, who was waving at him from the sidelines and knew he had to try.

“Okay now, listen up,” he called above the back slapping and high-fiving that was going on among the successful students. “There are a few ground rules before we begin. You want to be on the team, there are three non-negotiables.” He watched the boys. Their smiles faded a little. “Pete?”

Pete dug around in his backpack and came out with a pair of hair clippers. He held them up and switched them on.

“Number twos. All of you. Here, now, this afternoon.”

There was a collective groan and Jake plodded on. “Training is every day. Every day. Three o’clock sharp. Even the holidays. We have a month till the first game and a lot of ground to cover.”

None of the boys were smiling now. Good, he finally had their complete attention. “Lastly, one day off school, just one,” Jake held up a finger, “without a doctor’s certificate—wag it just once and you’re off the team. No exceptions.”

Silence greeted him and he glanced at Ella. Even she looked slightly aghast. But Jake knew boys like this, like Cameron—he’d been one himself. Angry, disenfranchised. If it hadn’t been for Huntley’s police sergeant getting him in to football and setting impossibly high standards, God knew where he’d be today. It was time to pay it forward.

“Those of you still keen, come join me.”

Ella held her breath as the boys looked at each other. Then they looked from Jake to Pete, still holding the clippers, and back to Jake. Cameron was the first to move and the rest followed.

Jake nodded. “Alright then. Go with Pete.” The scruffy rabble shuffled off. “Cameron, not you,” Jake called.

Cam frowned as he fell back. Ella approached, looking at them uncertainly. “Everything alright?” she asked.

“All good,” Jake dismissed.

Ella glanced at a nervous Cam and opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by an out-of-breath Trish Jones lugging a large shoulder bag. “I just got your text,” Trish said. “You want me to do what?”

Jake nodded behind him. “Shear some heads.”

Trish looked at the boys in the distance and then glanced at Ella. Ella shrugged and Trish smiled. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Ella laughed as the diminutive Trish practically levitated her away across the oval. She looked back at Jake and Cam standing tense and awkward obviously not requiring her company. “I’ll join her,” Ella said. Jake nodded.

Cameron eyed Jake nervously as Ella retreated. “Did you want something, sir?”

Jake looked at the kid who could almost meet him eye to eye. He was big, stocky, and probably one of the few guys on the team with real talent.

“I’m not your father, Cameron, nor am I a teacher. You can call me Jake or coach.”

Cameron swallowed. “Yes, coach.”

Jake regarded him seriously. “I understand you. Probably better than you understand yourself. I know Huntley gave you a tough time. I know you probably spent your life with your fists up defending someone you didn’t like very much in a shithole you didn’t give a damn about.”

Cameron remained silent but Jake could see the hostility in his gaze and the set to his jaw.

“But for the next six or so months, your ass belongs to me and if you want in this team, then you got to prove it to me—more than the other boys. Do you understand?”

Cameron nodded. “Yes, coach.”

“I don’t know if you know this or not but I was at your place one night a few weeks ago when you told your sister to fuck off. If you ever talk to Ella like that again—ever—you’re out. Got it?”

Cameron ground his teeth together so hard Jake thought he was going to break some. “But—”

“No buts, Cam. Men just don’t talk to women like that. That’s the number one rule, mate. Are you a man or a boy? This is where you decide.”

“But—”

Jake held up his hand. “Ella’s not the enemy, Cameron. Maybe you should cut her some slack? Don’t forget, she grew up in Huntley too.”

He shrugged. “She’s my sister. She was supposed to look out for me.”

Jake shook his head. “No, Cameron,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “That was Rachel’s job.”

Cameron looked at Jake’s hand on his shoulder and then looked back at Jake.

“Got it?” Jake repeated.

Cameron looked at his feet. “Got it.”

*

Ella suppressed the urge to ask what had transpired between Cam and Jake when Jake joined her ten minutes later. Cameron looked pretty sullen but as that was his modus operandi these days, she let it slide. And besides, she didn’t want anything to ruin the unadulterated delight she was experiencing at Trish’s and Pete’s handiwork. God knew she’d been tempted to creep into Cam’s bedroom in the dead of night and execute a dawn raid on his head too.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said, “but what’s the purpose of the number twos?”

Jake smiled. “Ahh, grasshopper, you have much to learn. The reasons are threefold.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

He laughed. “Firstly, it’s a test. I needed to know their level of commitment.”

“Good test.” Ella whistled. “Trust me, no one’s more committed to awful bushy hair than a teenage boy.”

“Secondly, they can see the ball better when they haven’t got hair in their eyes.”

“Ah. Excellent point.”

“Lastly, it makes them look mean. And bluff is just as important in football as it is in any sport.”

Ella looked into Jake’s face, his number two delineating his nicely shaped skull and emphasizing the leanness and perfection of the planes and angles. It looked sexy. Hot. Wild. Far, far from mean.

But as she watched Pete and Trish going to work on a bunch of indignant-looking teenagers with an efficiency that would have put the best shearer in the country to shame, she had to admit he was right. On these surly, burly boys, caught halfway between adolescence and manhood, it looked mean as hell. They looked like Satan’s helpers. Even their floral capes didn’t detract from the don’t-mess-with-us vibe.

“Whaddyareckon?” Trish asked, bounding down to join them, inspecting her handiwork.

“Amazing.” Ella nodded. “Are you free to knock over the rest of the school tomorrow?”

Trish laughed as she eyed off the other boys who didn’t make the cut. Literally. “Tempting, isn’t it?”

Ella felt an insane urge to laugh. This whole thing was mad, but it was really happening. Cameron was on the team, the bleachers had been turned into an impromptu hair salon and Jake, Jake Prince from Huntley, was standing by her side. The idea seemed less and less crazy each day. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she wouldn’t have believed it. She wanted a photo to remember this moment. Hell, she wanted a photo to prove to everyone it had happened—to the other students, to the parents and the community.

“We need the press in on this,” Ella said suddenly. Maybe a bit of a media profile and some community support would help them in their endeavour. And maybe a bit of publicity would keep the wolf, aka Donald Wiseman, from her door.