by Amy Andrews
She smiled as she took her place at the podium, and the audience hushed. She didn’t know if Dex was out there in the darkness beyond the glare of the lights. She’d watched Tanner hustle him outside earlier, and she had no idea if they’d returned. She tried not to think about it. This moment wasn’t about him.
It was her moment.
The mural projections had gone down a treat, and Harper could talk about her art all night. And who knew where this type of exposure could lead?
She launched into her speech about her creative process, as requested by the hospital executive, putting Dex firmly out of her mind. The audience was engrossed in it, and in the images she’d put together into a presentation. When she was done, Dan, along with some helpers carrying spare mics on the floor, facilitated a Q & A session.
Harper was thrilled with how well it appeared to be going. People seemed genuinely interested in her and the murals. It didn’t stop the now-certain feeling that Dex was somewhere beyond the blaze of lights watching her—her skin prickled with it. But if anything, his presence made her more gregarious in her answers.
She had this crowd in the palm of her hand—she could feel it—and she was going to work it whether he approved or not.
“I think we have time for a couple of more questions,” Dr Dan said in a voice Harper was sure soothed a lot of frazzled mothers.
“Yes.” The guy who’d wolf-whistled stood, and Harper smiled at him as he was handed the mic. “I’d like to know are you single, and would you come out on a date with me?”
Harper blinked at the unexpected question as the audience laughed. “Oh.” She blushed and couldn’t help but laugh also.
“Yeah,” another guy said, somewhere at the back, “Me, too.”
“And me.”
Harper’s cheeks warmed as two more guys stood and asked for a date as the crowd clapped and cheered each one.
“Looks like you have some admirers, Harper,” Dan grinned. “Guess you’d better put them out of their misery. Are you single?”
Harper tossed her head and stared in the direction of Dex’s table even if she couldn’t see it properly. “Yes.”
There were cheers from the crowd. “Well, now,” Dan said, obviously good at ad-libbing and taking the pulse of the crowd. “This wasn’t exactly what we’d planned, but maybe we should earn some money for the hospital out of this. What do you reckon, Harper? Shall we have an impromptu auction? A date with you to the highest bidder? All proceeds going to the hospital? What’d you say?”
Harper nodded and laughed. Why the hell not? It was a good cause after all. And the fact that Dex was here to witness it? Win/win.
Dan looked out over the ballroom. “Who’s prepared to put their money where their mouth is? And remember…” He put his hand across his heart to really work the pathos. “It’s for the sick kiddies.”
“One thousand,” the guy at the front offered with a grin.
“Two,” came from the back but it was impossible for Harper to see because of the lights.
From somewhere over to the left: “Three.”
And somewhere near that: “Four.”
“Eight,” the cocky guy at the front threw in, to a few ooohs from the rapt crowd.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
The granite voice needed no microphone to carry. And even across an entire ballroom it had the ability to tighten her nipples. A collective gasp rang around the room as heads swivelled in search of who had made the outrageous bid. Harper didn’t have to search—she knew, and her breath momentarily stuttered to a halt.
What the hell…? For the love of all that was holy, the stupid man could have dated her for free.
“But I want more,” he said.
There was gravel in his voice now, and if there was a woman in the room not thinking of Dex naked on his knees, begging for more, Harper would like to meet her.
There was a stir amongst the audience, passing from one table to the next as heads turned toward the stage. He was on the move.
Harper couldn’t be sure, because she couldn’t really see, but she could sense him getting closer. She felt it in her gut.
And places slightly lower.
“Hey,” the guy at the front protested good-naturedly as Dex appeared at the stage, taking the steps two at a time. “What’s he got that I don’t?”
“He’s got balls,” someone yelled from the side.
“Yeah, and he rucks like a demon,” someone else joked, and everyone laughed.
Before she knew it, his tuxedoed form was on the stage and heading for her. Harper’s pulse accelerated. She could tell herself—she could tell the whole damn room—she was single, but she was always going to belong to this man.
Heat flushed Harper’s cheeks as a pregnant silence fell over the audience. What the fuck was he doing? Was he drunk and having a Kanye moment? “Dex?” She glanced at the rapt crowd and back at him. “What are you doing?” she whispered, but with the microphone right there, it wasn’t exactly private.
He slid his hands up her arms and turned her slightly to face him. “I’m apologising for being, in the words of Hugh Grant, ‘a daft prick,’ and I’m begging your forgiveness.” Someone in the crowd let out an almighty wolf whistle, and there were sporadic claps and cheers. “I can’t eat or drink or sleep for thinking about you. I sure as shit can’t play rugby.”
“You got that right,” someone in the audience called out, and everyone laughed.
“But I don’t care about that.” Dex slogged on, his fingers warm and firm around her biceps. “I don’t care if I don’t play another game of rugby ever again, because you mean more to me than it ever has. And if you want me to give it up, I will do it in a heartbeat. I’ll give up everything. Hell, I’d even go back to Perry Hill, as long as you come with me. I don’t care if we have to live on mac and cheese for the rest of our lives if it means you’re by my side, because I love you, Harper Nugent.”
More wolf whistling and clapping echoed around the ballroom. “I am madly, stupidly, desperately in love with you. I just didn’t want to see it.”
He paused for a breath, then, and the audience clapped and hollered some more. Harper’s heart was beating so fast in her chest she didn’t know how it was actually pumping effectively. Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes as she searched his calm green gaze for signs of disingenuousness.
There wasn’t any.
She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. He loved her? She’d dreamed about him saying those three little words but hadn’t believed she’d ever hear them. She certainly never thought he’d declare himself in front of a ballroom full of mostly strangers and a shitload of media.
And he wasn’t finished yet.
“In front of the four hundred people here tonight,” he continued, “and the hundreds and thousands of people who will see this on their television and the millions more who will see it the second someone here uploads the video they’re taking right now to Facebook”—more audience laughter—“I want you to know how sexy you are. How much I love your curves, how obsessed I am with your ass”—clapping and wolf whistling interrupted him and he waited for it to die down—“and how seeing you in your baggy painting overalls, the ones with the zip that goes all the way down the front, makes me want to do real bad things to you.”
Harper blushed furiously as the audience erupted, her pulse tripping. The entire ballroom filled with the sound of stamping feet. She’d accused Dex of keeping her as a dirty little secret, of being embarrassed by her body.
Well, he’d just blown that complaint right out of the water.
She knew what an intensely private man Dex was and how hard this must be for him, to bare his soul in front of everyone. But he was giving it his all.
His hands slid down her arms to clasp her hands that were trembling like crazy.
“But more than that, I love how you kick my ass in Battlefront, I love how you are with Jace and Tabby, I love your sense of humour and I am in awe o
f your artistic talent and how you volunteer your time to teach art to the kids at the hospital. And more than anything, I love how being with you feels like coming home and I don’t want to live another day without you in my life. ”
He dropped down on one knee. Harper’s eyes widened as her stomach went into free fall.
“What are you doing, Dex?” she whispered as the crowd went wild.
But he just squeezed her hands and smiled at her. “Harper Nugent,” he said when the noise died down. In fact the whole ballroom fell silent as if holding its breath. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I love you. I want us to be together forever. Would you do the honour of marrying me?”
Everyone in the room sprang to their feet, clapping like crazy. Harper stood, stunned, looking down into his breathtakingly handsome face as the crowd hushed again, waiting for her answer.
Could this really be happening?
“I’m sorry, I don’t have a ring for you right now,” he said. “I hadn’t really planned this.”
Harper gave a half-laugh. Clearly. He was obviously suffering from temporary insanity. Or maybe it was a sign they should slow things down. She didn’t want any buyer remorse come tomorrow. “Maybe you need to think about it a bit more?”
He shook his head. “Hell no, baby. When I know what I want I go for it, and I want you. Every day. Not just Sundays. And I’m not going to rest until I put a ring on it.”
“Hey, Dex!” The interruption brought Harper back to the reality of where they were. Suddenly Tanner was jogging up to the stage. When he was close enough, he lobbed something which Dex, still on bended knee, duly caught. It was the round plastic ball from their goody bag, and he smiled at it as he cracked it open and a plastic ring with a gaudy red fake stone in the shape of a heart fell out into his hand.
“Well?” he said, holding it up. “What do you say?”
“Say yes,” someone called out.
Harper smiled even as tears pricked her eyes, her chest so full of love for him she could barely breathe. He loved her and wanted to marry her. He thought she was sexy and proved it by his very public declaration.
What more could a woman ask for? Especially when she loved him so much it hurt.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The audience went into meltdown as Dex shoved the ring on her finger then hauled himself to his feet. “But you can’t give up rugby,” she said, raising her voice over the mad applause as she planted a hand on his chest keeping him back. His pecs strained against her hold. “Because you’ve worked too hard for that. Plus, mac and cheese is not thigh friendly.”
He grinned. “I, on the other hand, am very thigh friendly.” He pulled her toward him and she went willingly. “Something I plan to prove to you every day.”
Harper slid her arms around his neck, accepting the hungry slant of his mouth with an answering hunger of her own. It had only been a handful of days since he’d kissed her but it felt like an age.
And it was good. Very good. It felt like forever.
And promised it, too.
Epilogue
Harper couldn’t believe the difference a month could make, as she and Dex hosted a BBQ in his back yard for the team and their families after their win the previous night.
She’d already moved in, turning Dex’s sparsely appointed inner city pad into a home, instead of just a place to eat and sleep. Her furniture fit right in with the polished blonde floorboards, as did the addition of colourful rugs and curtains. Her art decorated the walls, and she’d just started working on a mural—a wicked version of the smoke and flames she’d painted on Dex’s body—on the wall above their bed.
It was strong and masculine and turned her on just looking at it.
“So you guys set a date yet?” Valerie asked, as a few of them huddled around the BBQ watching Dex flip steaks and turn sausages. Jace and Tabby were frolicking in the nearby pool with some of the other kids, and the smell of charred beef and frying onions hung heavy in the air.
“As soon as humanly possible,” Dex growled, slipping an arm around Harper’s waist and planting a kiss on her neck.
“Dude,” Linc said. “Don’t tell me you’ve put a bun in her oven already? Jeez!”
Donovan clipped Linc across the head. “Just because no one wants to be impregnated with your demon spawn doesn’t mean others don’t want to procreate.”
Linc grinned, completely unabashed. He winked at Em, who was standing next to Harper. “Yeah, but plenty of women want my demon seed.”
Em folded her arms. “Not even in the ninth circle of hell. Not even if you were the last man on earth.”
Linc clutched at his heart as if he’d been wounded, and everyone laughed. Harper had to give it to Em. She’d stuck to her guns where men were concerned, and Harper was damn proud of her. Em was working her shit out, and she was stronger because of it.
“No,” Dex said, looking into her eyes as the laughter died down, and Harper’s heart just about burst out of her chest. “We’re not pregnant. But I can’t wait to give this woman one more curve.”
He kissed her then, and she melted into him, uncaring of their audience. It was hard to believe this man who had wanted only rugby a couple of months ago now wanted it all. Rugby, marriage, kids.
The whole enchilada.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryder grouched. “You’re going to incinerate the bloody snags if you’re not careful.”
Harper pulled away, grinning. “I want a whole damn rugby team, Dexter Blake.”
There was clapping and cheering at her statement, and Harper’s chest felt tight. She was a part of them, and she was so grateful to these guys and their women for the way they’d embraced her.
Dex’s eyes widened a little bit, then he broke into a grin, too. “You’re on. Is it rude to ask everybody to leave so we can get started?”
Harper laughed. “It’s okay, we’ve got time.” And she kissed him again.
They had all the time in the world.
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Glossary
I’ve probably used some words in here that some readers may not know—both rugby ones and strange Aussie-isms alike. So I thought a handy-dandy glossary might help. It is, of course, written entirely from my perspective and so is heavily biased, female-centric, and quite possibly dodgy. It probably wouldn’t stand up to any kind of official scrutiny.
Footy—We love this term in Australia. The confusing thing for most non-Aussies is they never know which game it refers to because we have three separate but distinct codes of football in Australia:
1. Rugby League (Jarryd Hayne played this code before he went and played Gridiron).
2. Rugby union—the code the Sydney Smoke play, and the one this series is based upon (Jarryd Hayne tried his hand at this code for a bit after the whole Gridiron thing didn’t work out but is now back playing League).
3. Aussie rules football—different altogether. Tall, fit guys in really tight shorts.
There is also soccer but we don’t really think of that as football in the traditional sense here in Australia.
The confusing thing is we refer to all of them as the footy, e.g., “Wanna go to the footy, Davo?” And somehow we all seem to know which code is being referred to at any given time. Even more confusing, the ball that is used in each code is often also called the footy, e.g., “Chuck me the footy, Gazza.”
Pitch—Apparently the rugby field is called a pitch but colloquially here we just call it the footy (see, I told you we liked that term) field. A pitch is more a cricket term. No, don’t worry, I won’t ever try to explain to you a game that lasts five days…
Ruck—No, not a typo. That’s ruck with an R, ladies! Happens after a tackle as each team tries to gain possession of the ball.
Line-out—that weird thing they use to restart play where each team lines up side by
side, vertical to the sideline, and one of the guys throws the ball to his team and a few of the guys from that team bodily lift one dude up to snatch the ball out of the air. It’s like rugby ballet. Minus the tutus. And usually with more blood.
Scrum—another way to gain possession of the ball. I’m going to paraphrase several definitions I’ve read: a scrum is when two groups of opposing players pack loosely together, arms interlocked, heads down, jockeying for the ball that is fed into the scrum along the ground. It’s like a tug of war with no rope and more body contact or, as I like to call it, a great big man hug with a lot of dudes lying on top of each other at the end of it all. Very homoerotic. Win/win.
Try—a goal. Except in rugby union, we don’t say someone scored a goal, we say someone scored a try after they’ve dived for the line and a bunch of other guys have jumped on top to try and stop it from happening. Very homoerotic. Win/win. A try is worth five points.
Haka—a ceremonial dance performed by all Polynesian cultures but made famous by the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team, who perform it before every match in an awesome, spine-chilling display of power, passion, and identity. I’m sure it’s only coincidental that it’s also crap-your-pants scary. There are few things more fearsome than an advancing All Black haka!
WAGS—wives and girlfriends. These are partners of the dudes that play rugby. Although we also use the term here in Oz to refer to partners of our cricket players. I think in the UK, WAGS is also a term used for football (soccer) partners.
Pash—not a footy term but one I used a couple of times that confused the heck out of my editor. A pash is a kiss e.g. “Did you pash him, Shazza.” It’s the Aussie equivalent to the British term snog.
Akubra—an iconic Australian brand of hat worn by country guys and gals. Vaguely similar to the Stetson, but I’ll probably have my nationality revoked for saying so! It has a distinctive shape that’s about as Aussie as vegemite.