by Amy Andrews
It was possibly the most shapeless, asexual uniform he’d ever seen. She shouldn’t look hot.
But she did. Fucking hot.
Trumped only by how she looked at the end of the day, her face all red and sweaty, her boots caked in mud, dirt under her fingernails and her hair clinging limply to her neck, happy and smiling and relaxed after a day doing what she loved.
Christ. What was wrong with him? Had Tony’s imminent reappearance tripped some kind of Cro-Magnon switch in his head?
Levi didn’t know. All he knew was he wanted to yank that hat off her head and kiss her. So damn hard.
Her spoon scraped along the bottom of her usual bowl of rice bubbles loaded up with Milo—poor man’s Coco Pops—before shovelling a spoonful in her mouth, spilling milk down her chin and swiping at it with the back of her hand.
‘Jesus.’ He grabbed his chest. ‘Sneak up on a guy why don’t you?’
‘Yeah. You look like you’re heart-attack material.’
She pushed off the archway, totally unconcerned for his cardiac health. Plonking herself down on the couch beside him, her arm warm against his, her thigh brushing his, she glanced at the paper. Levi angled it out of her line of sight.
‘Hey.’ She frowned at him. ‘I’m trying to read that.’
‘They’ve announced the coach.’
She gasped and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Who is it?’ She shoved the bowl on the coffee table in front of them, a bit of milk slopping over the side as she made a grab for the paper.
He held it just out of reach, wishing he didn’t have to tell her. Wishing it wasn’t so. She made another grab for it and he held it above his head.
‘Levi Phillips.’ It was said with a half-amused, half-frustrated growl and did very bad things to the muscles in his belly. They stirred and tightened. So did his dick.
She stared at him and frowned. ‘What?’
‘It’s... Tony.’
She blinked. Then she gasped again. ‘What?’
She reached for the newspaper and this time he ceded it to her with a quiet, ‘I’m sorry.’
But she wasn’t paying him any attention. She had eyes only for the black and white print, the grip on the paper tightening as she read it half out loud, half to herself. ‘Cameron was the second choice after Doug McDonald reportedly turned it down.’
Levi suppressed a snort. Tony wasn’t going to like that one little bit. He had a huge chip on his shoulder about always being the bridesmaid, his whole life marked by being second best. Not quite making it to an elite level in footy due to injury and lack of that special X factor.
The one you either had or you didn’t.
Darcy had it. And Tony had known it. Hell, he’d resented her for it. And had spent the better part of their five years together undermining her confidence, trying to convince her she wasn’t quite good enough either. She hadn’t been able to see it but Levi had watched Tony’s subtle erosion with gritted teeth. And then he’d dumped her, citing her lack of commitment to their relationship, that it had run its course and he needed space.
It had really rattled her cage.
All because his fragile little ego hadn’t been able to cope seeing someone he loved be more successful than himself. It had been pathetic. Question was... would Tony continue his mind games or had he grown the fuck up?
Darcy threw the paper on the table. ‘Well shit. That killed my buzz.’
‘Yeah.’ Levi nodded slowly. ‘Thought it might.’
‘Can you believe this?’ she demanded, half turning to face him, incredulity twisting her features.
Levi shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. His gut burned with disbelief. And concern about how this would play out. How Darcy would handle it.
She groaned and buried her face in her hands. ‘God... Why him?’
Levi didn’t say anything. It was obviously a rhetorical question. He just sat there for a while and let her mutter away to herself for a bit.
‘What are you going to do?’
She dragged her head out of her hands. ‘What can I do?’
‘Nothing.’ It was the stark, honest truth. Players didn’t get a say in their coaches. Not at Darcy’s level anyway. And she wouldn’t want to rock the boat, not if she didn’t want to end up with a diva reputation before the comp even got off the ground.
‘Exactly.’
She sounded depressingly resigned and Levi cursed Tony silently. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he assured. ‘It’s been two years. And you’re over him, right?’
‘Right.’
It was followed by a nod. But neither the nod, nor her voice, rang with conviction. So Levi did the only thing he could think of, slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze.
‘He’s a good coach.’ It killed Levi to admit it. He didn’t want to say anything good about the guy at all but it was the truth and Darcy obviously needed something right now. He gave her another squeeze. ‘Don’t let him ruin your buzz.’
Tony fucking Cameron had already done too much of that in Darcy’s life.
Darcy nodded again, turning her face to look at him. ‘You’re right.’ A wan smile touched her lips. ‘I’m not going to give him that kind of power.’
‘Good for you.’
She stood then, slipping out of his light hold, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. ‘It’s been two years. We can have a professional relationship.’
Levi wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. He gripped his thighs hard to stop himself pulling her down again, slipping his arm around her again, trying to convince her with the solid assurance of his body that she could do this.
She was incredibly strong and determined. She could do anything. He nodded instead. ‘Absolutely.’
She shot him another wan smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he assured.
‘I am fine.’
Then she calmly scooped up her bowl and disappeared into the kitchen. Levi winced as the bowl crashed into the sink.
Maybe not so fine after all...
Chapter 2
Darcy was still a conflicted mass of nerves and worry a few days later when she entered the apartment, all hot and sweaty after a long day of physical labour in the sun. She loved her job at Gerry’s, a massive market-garden business. There was variety and the opportunity for good, hard, honest labour in the outdoors. And the chance to get her hands in soil.
She’d always had a green thumb—something she’d inherited from her florist mother—and when this job had come up four years ago through one of her mother’s contacts, she’d jumped at it.
And had loved it ever since.
Sure, it was physically demanding, hefting around heavy bags of soil and compost and pots of varying sizes and weights. But it was a good physical work-out too, which was a win/win.
Today a dozen huge wooden planter boxes had arrived and she’d been preparing them all day—filling them with soil and nutrients—for planting on Monday. Her back ached slightly from all the lifting and bending and she was all sweaty and grimy from the heat of the glasshouses and the laying of soil, but it wasn’t anything a nice bath wouldn’t fix.
And with Levi teaching yoga tonight, she had the place to herself.
She was kicking out of her boots in anticipation of said bath when a knock at the door startled her. Crap. Who the hell could this be? She just wanted to relax in a warm bath and try not to think about her ex for five fucking minutes.
Unfortunately, the universe had other things in store for her.
Darcy yanked the door open and almost gasped at who stood on the other side. ‘Hey babe.’
‘Tony?’ Bloody hell. Tony? On her doorstep.
Which used to be his doorstep.
His grin was as boyish and charming as ever and he turned it on. ‘Surprise.’ His gaze slid down her body and all the way up again. ‘Hard to imagine you were ever a ballerina, Darce.’
Darcy pulled off the cap self-consciously,
shaking her sweaty hat-hair free. She knew she was more unusual-looking than pretty. A very square face, her green eyes wide-set and a little slanted, her mouth a little too big. Sure, she knew if she threw on a flirty dress, did her hair and slicked on some make-up that guys paid attention.
But in her baggy high-vis work gear, sweat pouring down her face, with no make-up? No one was throwing modelling contracts at her. And in one sentence Tony had made her feel utterly inadequate.
About as desirable as a bag of potting mix.
‘You still working at Gerry’s?’
She blinked, her brain too busy grappling with the fact that Tony was here, then what he was saying. ‘Ah... yes.’
‘Thought you’d have moved on by now?’
Of course he’d thought that. Her brain finally kicked in on a hot spurt of outrage. Not only had he killed her buzz over the Banshees and filled the last three days of her life with a low-level anxiety she hadn’t been able to kick, he’d turned up on her doorstep completely unannounced and was... insulting her?
Both her looks and her choice of employment.
Leaving Gerry’s had never occurred to Darcy. Unlike her male AFL counterparts, no one was throwing megabucks at her to play, so she needed to work. And besides, they were extremely supportive of her sporting career. Time off to play in state and rep teams had never been a problem and they were always the first to raise their hands for sponsorship dollars.
‘Just because you move on so easily, doesn’t mean everyone else follows suit.’
Darcy hoped she’d pulled off the cool indifference she was reaching for as she gripped the door handle, hard, clamping down on the urge to slam the door in his face. Whether she liked it or not, they were going to be seeing a lot more of each other.
He laughed. ‘Touché, babe.’
‘Don’t call me babe.’
He whistled through his teeth and held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay. No need to get your panties in a wad.’
Darcy gritted her teeth so hard she feared for the integrity of her back molars. ‘What do you want, Tony?’
‘Look.’ He dropped his hands and the act too, his face suddenly serious. ‘I don’t need to tell you that what we’re doing with the Banshees is big. I figured we needed to talk. Clear the air. We’re going to be working closely together over the next few months and we can’t afford to have an acrimonious relationship. That sort of shit can destroy teams.’
She knew he was right. That talking—clearing the air—was a good idea. But why in hell hadn’t he called around after her bath? When she looked more like she could maybe have been a ballerina with a promising future at some stage in the past?
And why the fuck did she even care?
How did this guy still know all her soft places and how to do a number on her head even two years after he’d walked away? And why did she still find the douchebag attractive?
Because—idiot—he was attractive. The original tall, dark and handsome with a youthfulness to his features that belied his thirty-two years. Was it something that had been lying dormant inside her all this time? Some kind of romantic/sexual muscle memory? Had she been fooling herself about being over the jerk-off for two years?
Ignoring the flutter of panic that engendered, Darcy gathered herself and stood aside. ‘Come in.’
Another whistle as Tony entered the apartment and looked around. ‘Place hasn’t changed much.’
He was wrong there. Dead wrong. He didn’t live here anymore and that had been a monumental change. But she ignored him. They weren’t here to exchange pleasantries or take a walk down memory lane.
‘The couch has changed,’ he said as he threw himself down on it, uninvited, spreading his legs in that way of men. Like he had balls the size of watermelons. Which was a gross exaggeration where Tony was concerned. His equipment was average in every respect.
‘Yes.’ The other one had been falling apart and Darcy had found the huge six-seater on GumTree. Plenty of room for friends to lounge around in, or for both her and Levi to stretch out from either end. Even though they usually sat side by side in the middle.
‘So.’ Darcy refused to sit next to him, preferring to stand and look down at him. ‘Talk.’
‘What? I don’t get a refreshment?’
Darcy could see he was trying to tease her but she wasn’t in the mood. And she’d rather get straight to the point. She folded her arms. ‘Just say what you came to say, Tony.’
He sighed and leaned forward in the chair. ‘Okay, well... I owe you an apology for ending it like I did. For implying it was your fault when it wasn’t. It was all me. Things had been accumulating for a while and well... I think after five years we’d... run our course. I’d thought you’d felt it too?’
Darcy opened her mouth to protest at this wildly inaccurate statement but he jumped in. ‘I know... I realised from the shock on your face you hadn’t thought that. And that I’d blindsided you. But I was pretty messed up inside my head, a bunch of stuff had been going wrong and it felt like I needed a whole new slate.’
A whole new slate. Life wasn’t working out so start all over again. New job. New city. New girl. She’d found out a month later he’d started seeing someone new.
‘I’m really sorry for being such a jerk. I know I hurt you and I didn’t acknowledge that at the time. If I could go back and do it over I would. Please believe that.’
As far as apologies went, it was comprehensive and, for what it was worth, seemed utterly genuine. She hadn’t ever been great at picking when Tony was being disingenuous in the past, but this seemed heartfelt.
‘I’d like to be able to move on from that and forge a new relationship with you. One that can work well for us both on and off the field. We had some good times, Darce. I reckon we can again. Who knows, maybe we can even become friends?’
He smiled hopefully and a flood of happy memories of their good times washed over her. They’d never been friends—they’d skipped straight to lovers and the thought was appealing as a way to reconnect. Who knows, maybe if they’d gone that way first—like her and Levi—they’d have lasted?
Damn it. How did Tony manage to turn her thoughts around so quickly? His smile had always been his biggest weapon.
‘What do you say? It’s been a couple of years. Can you accept my apology so we can move on?’
And bam, just like that he’d put the ball firmly in her court. Now she’d look petty and ridiculous if she threw him out and told him to go fuck himself, which is what he rightly deserved. But he was right—it had been two years. And the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was still holding a candle for him.
Darcy nodded. ‘Apology accepted.’
He smiled again and even it seemed genuine instead of his usual triumphant, full-of-himself grin. He stood and took three strides towards her, pulling her in for a hug. ‘Thank you.’
Darcy stood stiff and surprised in his arms. Tony had never been an affectionate guy. Didn’t believe in PDA’s. Preferred to keep the hugging for behind closed doors. So she wasn’t quite sure what to do with this.
Or what it meant. In any event, it was over quickly. He dropped his arms and stepped back.
‘Now... you want to talk football? I haven’t met any of the others team members, care to fill me in?’
Darcy nodded, relief sweeping over her at his distance, at their clear air and at her favourite topic of conversation. She could talk football for hours. With anyone. With the guy who was going to be her coach? That was a no-brainer.
‘I suppose you want that refreshment now?’
He smiled. ‘Got any beer?’
Darcy rolled her eyes. Of course they had beer. Mostly because neither her nor Levi were big drinkers. Darcy preferred water and Levi that green kale shit he seemed to live on, which usually meant a sixpack sat in their fridge for an eternity. But Tony probably already knew that. He’d been the beer drinker of the house.
‘Sit down.’
She sauntered to the k
itchen and cracked two tall-necked bottles open before returning to the lounge room and handing him one. ‘To the Banshees,’ she said, raising her bottle.
He smiled up at her. ‘To starting over.’
A prickle of unease brushed her neck as he clinked his bottle against hers. She didn’t like the ambiguity of it. Maybe he’d meant it to be purely platonic, but one apology was not going to wipe out the heartache, no matter how old it was. She had no intention of going there again and she’d be a bloody fool if she did.
***
Levi paused as his key hovered over the lock. He could hear laughter through the door and wondered who the hell Darcy would be entertaining at six on Friday evening. She must have not long got home from work and it was too early for any of her girlfriends to be around. They usually arrived about eight or so if they were going out and hitting the town.
A very male laugh reached him then through the thick wooden door and he frowned. Darcy had a man in there?
A hot spurt of jealously lashed his insides like acid. Crap. Since when did she bring men home? And how the fuck was he going to deal with that? If he hadn’t forgotten the keys to the yoga studio, he’d have turned his arse around. He contemplated doing that anyway, not sure he could deal with it.
But he gave himself a shake and girded his loins. Chrissakes! This was his place too. Levi inserted the key and pushed the door open.
If someone had asked him to bet on who the dude was in his apartment, sitting on his couch, drinking his beer, Levi would never have guessed Tony fucking Cameron in a billion years.
But he should have.
He should have known. Wasn’t this exactly what had been eating away at his gut in the middle of the night? Tony insinuating himself back into Darcy’s life again?
‘Levi!’ Tony leapt up from the couch, a look of genuine pleasure lighting his features. ‘Hey man.’ He extended his hand as he strode across the room. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’