Ruck Me: A Play On series short

by Cd Brennan

  “Never, what?”

  “A couple never has to be past the romance stage.”

  She gave him a face, one of disbelief and disgust. The poor woman was bitter beyond words. Dave had seen it before. But nothing that a good bouquet of flowers and a hug wouldn’t help.

  Sierra pulled her hand away from Dave’s and rummaged through her bag. He’d let her go for now as he maneuvered the rush of traffic of a big city, but he wouldn’t let her go for good. As much as Sierra thought “they” would end when they got to the tournament, Dave had different ideas. There was something to be said for his middle-class upbringing. He was raised to believe with integrity and hard work, a person could accomplish anything.

  Chapter 7

  Normally, he would have held a woman’s hand as they walked. One that he’d been intimate with for sure, even one that he was hoping to be with, but he got the impression that Sierra wouldn’t have wanted that. Small steps. In a way, she was like a beaten dog and had a fierce growl and trust issues. But Dave was good with the quiet. He preferred it. He was comfortable when others would have filled the silence.

  As they trudged throw the rows and rows of parked cars, him leading her in a zigzag pattern between vehicles, it was Sierra who spoke first. “I don’t know much about rugby.”

  “It’s the best sport in the world.”

  “Yeah, Dick seems to think so, too, but I haven’t had a chance until now to check it out.”

  “Well, you’re in for a great day of rugby with all the games. Maybe when the Lady Blues are playing, get Dick to describe to you what’s happening on the pitch.”

  “Yeah, that won’t happen.” She snorted. “I told a small lie. It’s not so much I haven’t had a chance…more, Dick hasn’t given me the chance. He’s never asked me to the games before, and I don’t like to intrude unless he wants me there. And honestly? That’s rare.”

  He wondered why Dick had relented for this big trip. As they stepped away from the cars toward the pitches, Dick scanned the area for the Blues’ blue, green, and white flags. “I can talk you through it if ya like.”

  When they found the team, there were a few stares from the Blues and the Lady Blues, and there would have been more if they had been seen arriving in the sleek Camaro, but the tournament was in full-swing and they’d had to park a distance away. There would have been a butt-load more questions, but the Blues men’s team was already warming up for the next match, the Lady Blues helping to wrap ankles, knees, and heads.

  Dave grabbed his gear bag from the pile of them and stripped right there to change into his shorts. He had boxer briefs on, no biggie. All the lads did it. And as he pulled on the tight jersey over his head, he caught a glimpse of Sierra staring at him. When she realized she was caught, her fair cheeks colored and she turned away.

  She was standing on her own, didn’t bother to chat with the others milling about waiting for the match to begin. She hadn’t talked much or socialized on the first leg of the bus trip, either.

  Dave walked over to Gillian who had just finished taping Austin’s legs, the stand-in for their jumper since Padraig was gone training with the Eagles. After she tucked her tape away into her box, she rose and smiled at Dave. “Glad to see you could make it.”

  “No thanks to Joe.”

  “Yeah, he was exceptionally impatient last night to get going, and since you were the one keeping track…well, doh.”

  “Yeah, I get left behind.”

  “With Dick’s sister.” There was a glint in Gillian’s eye.

  “Like I did that on purpose.”

  She tilted her head and tapped her chin. “No, Dave, you’re not the conniving sort, but I hope you made the best of it.”

  “Ha ha, very funny.” But too close to the truth. Gillian had a way of knowing things. Intuitive, she was. “Hey, can you help wrap my head today?”

  Her brows pinched while she made a face, and she leaned back as if studying him. “You never wrap your head.”

  He shrugged, although heat was blasting up his neck. “I think it’s time to start.”

  “For your ears?”

  Damn. Couldn’t the woman just wrap his head without the inquisition? “I’ll do it then.”

  She beat him to the tape in her box and yanked it away. “No worries. I can do it. Just was wondering if you were having any problems you wanted to let me know about.”

  Oh yeah, he had problems. A big oaf like himself was totally infatuated with a woman like Sierra. There was nothing like cauliflower ears to scream sexy. And he wanted to be sexy to her. He wanted to flex his muscles and prance about in front of her like a peacock. And that was the scariest bit of all. He’d never been that way. But heck if she wasn’t making him want to be.

  After she gauzed and taped his head to hold his ears down, he thanked her and approached Sierra. “Hey, I’ll let Dick know you’re here.” Because the bastard hadn’t even bothered to stop his warm-up to come see if his sister was okay.

  “That’s okay. I’m sure he knows.”

  He hesitated before catching her gaze. “Well, wish me luck.”

  She gave him a half smile. “Good luck. I’ll be rooting for you.”

  For him, Dave? Or for the team? He wanted to ask, but instead said, “Thanks,” and jogged onto the field. Her gaze burned his back. He knew she was watching, so he picked up the pace the last hundred feet to the Blues gathered at one end of the field.

  The boys called out to him, joking with him about being left behind, as he settled into the group to start his stretches. Del came over and squatted beside him. “Glad you made it. We could use your power in the front row.”

  “I heard you lost the first one.”

  “Yeah, Coach had to shift around a few players with you missing, and things didn’t click, mate. Not at all.”

  “Well I’m here now, a fresh pair of legs. Sorry to have missed the first match, but you dickheads left me behind.”

  He smiled at Del to let him know he was joking, and Del punched him in the arm half-heartedly. “Sorry about that, bro, but the situation could’ve been worse…”

  He looked at Del who wore a smirk. “For me or the Blues?”

  “For the Blues, of course.” He thumped him on the back. “If you’d never shown up at all.” He rose from his squat. “Now, let’s win this last match. If we do, then we have another one tomorrow morning to win to qualify for the finals.”

  Del hollered for the boys to follow him in their warm-up laps, and Dave fell to the back of the group. He wasn’t as fast as the younger players, and with his girth, definitely not as fast as the backs. But he was in shape so always finished in front of some of the others who sprinted out for show and then lost steam. Like Dick. He was always one of them. And usually Dave didn’t care, slow and steady won the race, but today, as they passed where Sierra stood, he found himself picking up pace to push ahead to mid-group.

  And as they came to the end of the warm-up jog, stopping where they had started right in front of their group of supporters, Dave sped up and passed the first lads out front.

  He stopped, heaving, and set his hands to his thighs as he scooped breath into his lungs. Someone walked up next to him and bent over to join him. Del’s head came even with Dave’s, his body tugged up close as if they were in a scrum. But Del wasn’t part of the forward pack, Del was Captain, and Del always had a reason for everything.

  “Mate, that was some run there for a Clydesdale.”

  “Nice, Del.” Dave’s breath had evened out, but he stayed where he was to listen to Del’s imparting wisdom. Because it was coming. That he was sure of.

  “I know because you missed the first match you are keen to make up for it, but don’t burn out too quick. That forward pack is nothing without you.”

  That was discipline masquerading as a compliment. “No problem. I feel pretty good.”

  “Yeah? Plenty of sleep last night?

  At that, Dave rose, Del with him. The captain stared at him long and hard. Abso
lutely nothing escaped Del. The best captain a team could hope for in his support, comraderie, assistance, and dedication. But that cardinal rule of Del’s, no sex before a game, all of a sudden seemed absolutely ludicrous. Dave had had no reason to question it before, but now…now it made him angry. That anger was most likely a product of his guilt, but still, as quiet, controlled, and well-mannered as Dave liked to think he was, he was still human. And still very much a man. And who could resist a siren like Sierra?

  Well, he was about to test whether Del’s theory was right.

  “I wouldn’t say plenty, but good enough sleep. Ya know, quality over quantity.”

  Del face’s was impassive, but Dave could practically see the cogs ticking behind the façade. He nodded. “No worries, bro, just checking on you. Seems like something happened between yesterday and today. You’ve changed, and I want to make sure everything is okay.”

  “All good.”

  “Okay then, it’s show time.”

  And it was. While they’d been talking, both teams had lined up on the field and the ref, or the Sir as he was referred to in rugby, was waiting in the middle for the coin toss with Del.

  Dave searched out Sierra on the sidelines. She had moved back from the group, standing on the fringes, and from where he was, he couldn’t tell whether she was looking at him. She stood by herself, her huge bag tucked under arm. Had Dick even spoken to her? Checked to see if she was okay? Dave hadn’t seen it, and for some reason he doubted it. He wanted to wave at her, let her know she was wanted by someone but, again, knew Sierra wouldn’t want the attention.

  When Jimmy called out to him to get his ass in gear, Dave turned and loped away. He took his position just as the ref blew the whistle and the other team kicked off. Rory caught the ball in the backfield and ran forward before passing it to Damian, Dick’s only friend on the team. Jointly referred to as Dick-n-mouth, they’d been playing the back wings for as long as Dave could remember. And as much as the lads hated to admit because of personal animosity against one or the other or both, they were good players, good backs for the Blues.

  The play came Dave’s way, the opposing team taking down Damian into a ruck. Dave was into it as he crashed against one of their forwards, a big guy with a beard and a gut. And no matter how many times he’d taken a hit in the game, the first time was always the hardest, a shock to the system. Then it became nothing as he numbed to the abuse his body took.

  Normally, his performance on the field would be complete and total commitment, but today he found himself distracted, looking over to where Sierra still stood by herself, her bag still clutched to her side, barely a change in her stance. He wondered if she watched him, if he impressed her with his athleticism.

  He pushed hard in the scrums, harder than he ever had, and luckily it turned over some balls for them. But then there were other times, when his thoughts strayed to their hot sex early that morning, and he’d miss a tackle, only by seconds, but enough to let a player through. He couldn’t get Sierra or that feeling out of his head. He wanted her now again, even in the middle of the match.

  Finally, the Sir blew the whistle for end of first half, and everyone walked with heaving breaths to the sidelines. As water bottles were passed out, Coach gathered the forwards together to go over the play from the first half, while Assistant Coach talked to the backs. The Blues were up by one try, but it was a close game.

  They had five minutes before start of second half, some players getting iced shoulders and knees, others getting their fingers or ankles rewrapped. Del was in tight conversation with Coach so Dave took the opportunity to go over to Sierra.

  She was smiling as he approached.

  “So, what did you think of your first rugby game?”

  “Not bad.” She tucked her long bangs behind her ear. “I don’t really know what the hell is going on, but it was exciting.”

  Dave smiled at that. “How did I do?” He was fishing, but screw it.

  “I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Good?”

  Hmmm…not exactly what he’d hoped for. “I’ve had better games.”

  “A bit tired from earlier?” She had that gleam in her eye, one that told of mischief and conniving ways.

  “Do you mean the white-knuckle drive from Indy?”

  Her lips twisted in a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

  They both were talking about the same thing, and it wasn’t the drive down in the Camaro, although that was memorable enough. It was the hot sex they’d had twice today, and his cock twitched at the memory.

  Dave adjusted subtly by turning toward the field a quick second before facing her again. “Are you going to be hanging out with Dick after this?”

  “Since that’s the whole reason I’m here, I suppose I will be.”

  That was a bummer, and he hoped he held the emotion from his face. Obviously, spending time with her brother was important to her.

  “Well, if you find yourself stranded again…”

  She stepped forward, her hand lightly grasping his arm, and whispered in his ear. “You’ll be the first one I call. The weekend isn’t over yet.”

  The whisper of her words, her soft perfume scent that wafted on the breeze to him, had him leaning into her. But at that moment, Dick walked up. “C’mon Dave, we’re ready to start.”

  When Sierra let go of his arm, Dick’s eyes tracked the movement and ended with a squint at Dave.

  “Just checking to make sure your sister is okay.”

  Dick made a face at Dave, like what-the-hell? “She’s fine. Aren’t ya, sis?”

  “She was standing here on her own, and—”

  Sierra interrupted, “I’m fine.” She turned to Dick. “Looking good out there, Richie.”

  Richie? Huh.

  Dick rolled his eyes. “Whatever, and don’t call me that.”

  Dick was still glaring at Dave, so he said to Sierra, “I hope you enjoy the second half.”

  She gave him a pinched smile, and Dick didn’t look in anyway ready to leave, so Dave loped out to the field where almost everyone had already assembled for the kick-off. That woman had done all sorts of things to him. She reminded Dave of an orchid. Rare, unique, hard to care for, but if he did, that orchid turned into something magnificent.

  Chapter 8

  The second half of the game didn’t go so well. The Blues were hanging on by a measly two points, and Dave was having one of his shittier games. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the sideline and was taking a beating for his inattention. The opponent’s, a local Nashville team, had a bigger forward pack than the Blues’, especially the front row. The Blues’ backs were what was keeping them in the game.

  Only five minutes left on the clock, and if they could hold it together, the Blues would squeak by with a much needed win.

  Dave heaved in breaths as he waited for the line-out to set up. Bryce, Shano’s replacement as hooker, was wiping the ball down, getting ready for the throw-in. They had almost a full pitch to cover to their own try line, but if they didn’t win this lineout, they only had twenty meters to defend against a Nashville try. And that would give them the win.

  Just as Bryce was about to throw in, a police car pulled up and humped the curb just beyond the small set of spectator stands. But then the ball was in the air, and Dave refocused on the play. The Blues won the line-out, but immediately Del was tackled so Dave assisted in the ruck, pushing for all his worth. Which didn’t seem to be much this second half. And ironically, as he slowly rose from a pile of men after the ball went loose, Dave understood without a doubt the benefit of Del’s number one rule. No sex before a match.

  Dave’s head was everywhere but on the game, constantly remembering back to the feast he’d had this morning with her body. And the urge for her, for more of the same, was so strong at times he couldn’t think.

  The Sir called a double infringement. The Blues had passed forward but then the Nash team was immediately offsides, so he called for a scrum on the twenty-meter line just past
the sideline. Coach and Derek were yelling instructions, everyone primed for this major play that could swing the Blues win to a loss.

  In the moment that followed, Dave’s gaze went automatically to Sierra who was barely fifteen feet away. Two cops had bookmarked her, one on each side. Sierra’s stance was all defiance, and she flung her hands in the air as she spoke. The cop on her left was of medium build, not much older than Dave and a bit paunchy with a short haircut. The one on her right was older, taller and thin, gray streaks in his hair.

  Bryce nudged him to link up for the scrum. His eyes still on Sierra, he wrapped his arm over Bryce’s shoulder and readied for the rest of the scrum to set. Austin wrapped his arm around Dave’s thigh, and the force of the men behind him channeled into Dave’s body. This is what he lived for in the game, the scrum, the power of the scrum, the desire from both teams to push the other back, to win the ball that sat just below them.

  In his last glance at Sierra, Dave saw the younger cop step beside her and grab her roughly on the arm. Holy shit!

  “Ready?” asked the Sir, but it was a distant sound, over the top of Dave’s head.

  Sierra resisted, her voice raised enough that Dave could hear her yelling at the older cop, but her words were indecipherable.

  “Bind,” shouted the Sir.

  As the cops each took one of Sierra’s elbows to lead her away, the ref called, “Set!” and the two teams collided, head on. His eyes on the rugby ball, Dave pushed hard, the strength of seven other men with him, but his heart wasn’t in it. He went to his knees and collapsed the scrum.

  The whistle blew amidst groans and mutters and swearing. That meant, if the Sir was being generous, he might give them a second chance to reset and go again. But as the bodies peeled off, Dave on the bottom, he had already made his decision. As soon as he was clear of the last tangled limb, he jumped up and jogged off the pitch. Moments later, it registered with the team, and they shouted out for him.