The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

by Penny Reid

  Eilish’s odd look became something altogether different, because she knew how I disliked Ronan. To her ear, it must’ve sounded like I was taking up for him.

  And perhaps I was.

  Troubling thought, that.

  “Mr. Cassidy, we don’t speak of those people. They’re hardly—”

  “What? Hardly what?” I didn’t raise my voice. Rather I lowered it, softened it,

  Yet something in my tone must’ve communicated my ire because the senior Fitzpatrick lifted her chin and sniffed before responding with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “Hardly anyone of import. We all, as I’m sure you can appreciate, have unfortunate relations we’d rather not discuss.”

  I ignored her slight against me and pushed the issue. “And what of your granddaughter?”

  “I don’t know the girl, nor do I wish to.”

  I flinched, not certain why I’d expected a different answer. How the woman could speak of Lucy as if she were unfortunate was beyond me. Was violence against women permitted when the woman in question was as warm as a can of piss?

  My features likely betrayed my thoughts as Eilish felt it necessary to insinuate herself between me and the high and mighty Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “Let me take you to the front, Theresa is ringing our purchases, but I think Bridget should be free to lend a hand if you’re looking for something . . .”

  Eilish’s voice faded, gently leading the other woman into the main shop and away from me.

  My cousin’s interference was a good thing as my thoughts were still violent.

  Lucy’s grandmother was the matriarch of nothing in particular since she’d refused to accept the children of her only son as family. My aunt and uncle wouldn’t win any parent of the year awards, but they had taken me in when my mother fobbed me off. Aunt Cara was unpleasant and unfeeling, but at least she’d gone through the motions.

  But the elder Mrs. Fitzpatrick . . . I surmised her pride was the only source of warmth in her house. It was a big house, so her pride must’ve been substantial. Colossal even.

  “What was that about?” Eilish reappeared, her green eyes wide and rimmed with astonishment.

  “She’s an unfeeling old shrew.”

  “Shhh!” Eilish rushed over, flapping her hands frantically, and whispered harshly, “She’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care if she does. Nor do I imagine she cares what I say.”

  I recalled Lucy’s words from so many weeks ago, when we were in the taxi, just before I’d hoisted her to my shoulders and she’d subjected me to street meat. It was something about finding beauty in strength. A sentiment I’d rejected at the time, but which made a great deal more sense now, faced with her weak relation.

  My cousin surveyed me for a moment, confusion etched in the way her forehead wrinkled. “What has gotten into you? I thought you despised Ronan?”

  “He’s not so bad.” I glanced at the ceiling, deciding and saying the words at the same time.

  If Ronan had been the one responsible—as Lucy had claimed—for keeping her protected from the influence of those awful people, giving her a loving home, support, keeping her safe, then I supposed I could do better than my constant badgering.

  “I never thought I’d hear you say those words.” She was all astonishment. “You’ve always called him an ape.”

  “Apes aren’t all bad.” I shrugged. “They’re loyal and strong, they take care of their own. He acts without thinking, takes risks, wears his heart on his sleeve, allows his emotions to overtake good sense. But perhaps . . .” I stared over her shoulder, my attention caught on a shiny, rainbow sequin dress, hanging on a return rack.

  “Perhaps what?” Eilish prompted, trying to follow my line of sight.

  I felt my mouth curve with an unbidden smile, because I was going to buy the dress for Lucy. Rules and decency be damned. Somehow I was going to convince Ronan Ape Fitzpatrick I was worthy of his sister.

  “Perhaps, my dear cousin, good sense is overrated.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  @LucyFitz Simon Cowell is my weird celeb crush. There, I said it.

  @Anniecat to @LucyFitz I always suspected high-waisted slacks put the float in your boat ;-)

  @LucyFitz to @Anniecat It’s actually the twinkle in his eye. Makes me wonder what he’s thinking…

  *Lucy*

  “I suppose it won’t be long before we hear the pitter-patter of little feet,” Mam said to Annie as we sat in the sauna in our swimming costumes—sweating—because apparently it was good for the skin.

  It was the day before the wedding and we were at the K Club, a gigantic period hotel and golf course in Kildare, where both the ceremony and reception were being held.

  Annie cast Mam a smile and responded, “Maybe give me a couple years to enjoy being a newlywed first, Jackie.”

  I grinned, so proud of my soon-to-be sister-in-law. She’d been so meek and shy when she first began seeing Ronan, but now she’d really come into her own, and she had absolutely no reservations about trying to put my mother in her place.

  “Oh, just you wait. You’ll be pregnant before the honeymoon is through,” Mam went on, refusing to give up the subject.

  “Mam!” I hissed. “For God’s sake, leave it out. She still needs to get through the wedding day first.”

  I might have overreacted. I’d been tense for nearly a month. Seeing Sean two nights ago and being unable to even speak to him had made everything exponentially worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Annie shrugged and gestured to Orla and Marie, who had also joined us for our spa day. “It’s fine. These two have already been on my case about babies for months now, so I’m used to it.”

  Marie, the long-term girlfriend of one of Ronan’s teammates, smiled kindly. “We’re trying to give you some friendly encouragement, that’s all.”

  “Exactly,” said Orla. “And think how beautiful your kids will be. I can just imagine those big gorgeous Bambi eyes on a little girl.”

  “Too true,” Mam chirped happily.

  Staring at my toes through the steam, I huffed a breath, rubbing a tight spot between my shoulders. “Man, I kind of feel sorry for this kid. She hasn’t even been conceived yet and the expectation of beauty is already being saddled on her.”

  Okay, so I was being a bit of a sour chops. I wasn’t normally such a grump, but the lack of resolution with Sean was wearing me down. I was straddling the line of being loyal to my brother (which I wasn’t) and being more than friends with Sean (which I wasn’t, not really). I wanted both, but couldn’t have either. My brain felt like it was being torn in two.

  I hadn’t heard from Sean since the night of the hen party. I’d texted him three times and he hadn’t answered. I told myself it was for the best. Because it was for the best.

  Too bad my heart didn’t agree.

  Also, and just keeping it real here, I needed bedroom action, some kind of a release, but it had to be from Sean. The thought of allowing anyone else to touch me sent my stomach rolling with revulsion.

  It had to be Sean.

  I needed him to touch me.

  “There’s no questioning that any child of my son’s will be beautiful as can be,” Mam put in, her narrowed eyes leveled on me. “You’ve always been jealous of Ronan, Lucy.”

  “I’m not jealous of anyone. I love my brother. All I’m saying is, a baby shouldn’t be measured in terms of physical attractiveness. It’s a bloody baby, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Please, don’t start with another of your politically correct rants. Just because you chose to hide your only good features doesn’t mean you have to make those who are attractive feel like less.”

  There was something in her tone that made me lose my rag. “Christ, you’re condescending.”

  “I’m speaking the truth. Now hush, you’re embarrassing us and making a scene,” she said, casting her eyes down to a group of women at the other end of the steamy room.

  “Well, God forbid I do that.”

  “Luc
y,” she said in warning, her eyes demanding I shut the hell up.

  “Do you know what, Mam? Sometimes it feels like my very existence is an embarrassment to you, so I think I’ll just do you a favor and get out of your hair for the rest of the day. And don’t worry, I’ll be returning to New York after the wedding, so you won’t have to put up with me at all for much longer.”

  Having said my piece, I stood and shot Annie a look of apology before walking out of the sauna. Yes, I was being a tad hysterical and overly contrary, but my mother was a trigger and it was just one of those days.

  “Lucy, come back here,” Mam called, her aggravation barely concealed. I ignored her.

  I was completely anxious and tense as I walked to the showers. The warm water and lemon-cucumber-scented soap did little to ease my discomfort.

  Once I was clean and dressed, I checked my phone for messages. I’d been checking it constantly, like an addict looking for her next fix.

  I didn’t expect anything, but I hoped. And when I saw there were several spanning over the past hour and they were all from Sean, my heart pounded. A rush of hot nerves flooded my system as I hit the button to read them, remembering our loaded, needful glances from two nights ago, when the stags and hens had collided.

  We hadn’t exchanged a single word, yet the look he’d given me had expressed his want more than a thousand sonnets could have. I was certain my own looks had reflected that want right back at him.

  Sean: Just checked in to the hotel a day early. I’m in room 206 if you find yourself at a loose end…and I’ve got a jersey in my suitcase with your name on it ;-)

  Sean: Actually, it has my name on it, but you know what I mean. I’d really like to see you, Lucy.

  Sean: You looked beautiful the other night, even in that God-awful costume. I hated that we couldn’t speak or touch. It was the worst kind of torture…

  I swiped my thumb over the screen, biting my lower lip as I considered how to reply, my heart still thundering and my chest tight and achy. I wanted to see him, God how I wanted to, but I was here for my brother’s wedding. Having any kind of intimate encounter with Sean right now would be completely disrespectful.

  And by intimate encounter I meant lots and lots of hot, satisfying, sweaty sex.

  Ronan didn’t deserve my disloyalty. With that in mind, I decided to ignore the text messages even though they had me all aflutter with nervous excitement and unbearable longing.

  On the other hand . . .

  Sean was going to keep asking to see me.

  Going to his room to clear the air would be good.

  I needed to set him straight, let him know he wasn’t to try anything this weekend.

  No more longing looks.

  No more suggestive texts.

  I didn’t want to ruin a single moment for Ronan and Annie.

  Yes. Smart plan. I must see him to tell him I can’t . . . see . . . him . . . Right?

  With new determination, I shot off a text.

  Lucy: Be there in 5. We need to talk – Just talk.

  I went to the suite I was sharing with Annie and dropped off my things before heading to room 206. The entire way there my heart was in my throat, as I prepared a speech in my head. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the door, and seconds later Sean opened it.

  I caught my breath slightly at the sight of him. Seeing him the other night had been nothing compared to this. Here we were alone, with nothing to stop us from touching, just like Sean claimed he’d been dying to.

  “Lucy,” he said, like my name was an answer. He smiled and his expression was open and hopeful, excited and pleased.

  And, crap, crap, crap, crap! My heart leapt. A wistful kind of warmth traveled up my spine, down my limbs, and curled around my brain, making me forget the speech I’d been practicing.

  “Sean,” I said, and it was the sound of my voice—all dreamy and full of anticipation—that snapped me out of my stupor.

  “Been out on the yacht with the fam, have we?” I asked with shaky confidence. He wore a navy long-sleeved rugby shirt with a white collar, beige chinos, and boat shoes. I smirked at the outfit, wanting to disarm the moment with humor.

  He grinned, as though he thoroughly enjoyed my teasing, but said nothing. Just continued to stare at me.

  I cleared my throat, my attention snagging on the phone he held in his hand. A video played on his screen. It only took me a second to recognize it was footage from the karaoke session the other night and I winced.

  “Is that on YouTube?” I asked, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.

  Sean smiled at me so warmly, with such fond affection, that I thought my heart might explode. “It is. You never told me you had aspirations for a hip hop career.”

  “Turn it off, please. I’m going to murder Orla. I was so drunk during that.”

  “I’m quite enjoying it, actually,” said Sean as I stepped into the room and he returned his attention to the video. “Did you just sing the words ‘your booty don’t need explaining’? Oh my God, Lucy, I’m making this my ringtone.”

  I swiped for the phone “Shut up. Maybe your bubble butt inspired my song choice. Ever think of that?”

  “Well, we did suffer quite a few weeks apart. I suppose your daydreams of my rear were working their way into strange areas of your life.” He paused, watching the video in quiet for a moment before lowering his voice to a sexy rumble. “You’ve got some very intriguing dance moves. Perhaps you should give me a private show.”

  “Oh sure, I’ll just go put your jersey on for it too, shall I?” I deadpanned, a whisper of panic making my spine stiffen.

  His grin was wide. “That would be much appreciated, yes.”

  I just shook my head at him, swallowing my anxiety. I knew he’d be all too happy to sit and watch while I pranced around in nothing but his team jersey. A moment of quiet ensued as I sat at the end of the large bed that took up a good portion of the room.

  This was fun. I was having fun with Sean and our clothes were on, hence the panic.

  The easy rapport we’d developed felt comfortable and therefore dangerous. This wasn’t friendly banter. This was conversing like two people in a relationship. Two people who liked and had committed to each other.

  He seemed to circle me like a predator circles its prey, and prickles beaded my skin. I could feel his attention but was too afraid to look, so I stared at the carpet. If I looked at him I knew I’d forever forget every word of my speech and let him have his way with me.

  Or rather, let us have our way with each other.

  Staring directly ahead, I asked, “Could you sit?”

  “Why?”

  I finally looked up at him, my voice unsteady. “Because you’re making me nervous standing over me like that.”

  His lips curved slightly. “I quite enjoy making you nervous.”

  My gaze turned pleading. “Sean.”

  He swallowed, nodded once, eyes growing intense as he walked to the armchair across from me and took a seat. “In your text you said you wanted to talk.”

  I gripped the edge of the bed, my palms sweaty. “Yes, I just wanted to clear a few things up.”

  “How very formal of you. I have to admit, Lucy, this isn’t exactly how I expected you to greet me after all these weeks apart.” He sounded put out.

  Unconsciously, I toyed with the pendant around my neck—Sean’s pendant. His eyes went to the movement and they seemed to heat when he saw what I was wearing. “You’re wearing the necklace.”

  “I love it,” I said without thinking.

  “I can buy you another.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I rather like seeing you in diamonds. You should have more of them.”

  I choked, my eyes bulging. “Diamonds?”

  “Yes. Diamonds.”

  I glanced at the pendant, seeing it anew. Diamonds. What I’d assumed was a beautiful silver and crystal necklace was in fact something altogether different.

  Staring at it, I realized
its value changed its meaning. It felt heavier around my neck and in my fingers. Yet I didn’t love it more because it was expensive. I loved it just the same.

  I let it drop to my chest over my clothes, gripping the bed again. “You shouldn’t have bought it for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s too expensive.”

  He shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his pants. “I actually enjoy buying things for the women in my life, taking an interest in their attire and purchases. Just ask my cousin Eilish, she’ll attest to it.”

  Now I frowned. “You take your cousin shopping for clothes?”

  “Not like that. Eilish is just nineteen. She’s like a younger sister to me.”

  “Oh.”

  “You might actually get to meet her tomorrow. I’m bringing her as my date to the wedding.”

  This piece of information surprised me. In fact, it warmed my heart to think of Sean taking a little sister-type as his date.

  It also relieved me. I wasn’t sure I could stand him showing up with some vajazzled, fame-obsessed parasite that cared nothing about Sean other than his celebrity status.

  “That’s very sweet of you,” I said, my voice a little unsure.

  “I can be incredibly sweet.”

  I looked at the plush carpeted floor. “Can you?”

  “You know I can, when I want to be.” A moment passed and Sean sighed. “What did you want to discuss, Lucy?”

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop saying my name in that voice.”

  “It’s the only voice I have.”

  “You know what I mean. The sexy voice. Stop it.”

  “I can’t help it if you find my voice sexy, or my arse, my mouth, teeth, tongue . . .”

  I stood abruptly from the bed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to count to ten to calm my racing pulse. Being this close to him and seeing all the vulnerability and longing and sex in his eyes was making me break out in a cold sweat.

  Rubbing at my temples, I pleaded, “Don’t do this, Sean.”

  My eyes were still closed when I felt a familiar heat close in around me. Sean had folded me into his arms, my face resting at his sternum. God, he was tall. And built. And warm. The unexpected relief of being this close to him was overwhelming. My throat grew tight and dry, while butterflies flitted around inside my stomach with wild abandon.