by Amy Andrews
“No.” Bodie shook his head. “It’s a plane.”
“Nah,” Linc grinned, “it’s Superman.”
“Hope we all brought our kryptonite panties, fellas.” Donovan added.
Tanner had been right about never hearing the end of it. “Bite me,” he said as he headed for his locker, ignoring the good-natured jeers.
He laughed when he reached his destination to find a Superman shield with its big red S had been cut out and stuck with electrical tape to the front of his locker. He pulled it off with a grin, crumpling it in his hand.
“That’s me,” he confirmed. “Ten foot tall and bulletproof. Now—” He hauled his T-shirt off over his head. “Let’s go kick training ass.”
…
By the time Tanner returned to their locker room three hours later, it was fair to say that training had kicked his ass. And, judging by the far less jovial mood around him, he wasn’t alone. Griff had run them ragged, wanting them all primed for their match tomorrow night. It was only early in the season, but Griff hated to lose.
And Tanner had let him down again. Sure, he hadn’t fumbled any balls this time, but his head still wasn’t one hundred percent in the game. Maybe Griff hadn’t noticed, but Tanner sure as hell had. His attention had wandered far too often to a pair of pebbled nipples and a strip of silky skin above a black lacy edge.
He reached for his phone and checked Twitter. The hundreds of notifications were just what he needed to put a smile back on his face. Twitter was on his side, and Tilly still hadn’t bitten.
He tapped out another quick tweet.
Coach not too happy about my ruined concentration during training session. I blame you @MatildaK #mightbelove
By the time he’d stripped off his sweaty clothes and kicked out of his footy boots, the tweets and retweets were coming thick and fast.
Hey @MatildaK put @slickstone out of his misery #mightbelove.
Go on @MatildaK you know you want to #mightbelove
If #sydneysmoke loses tomorrow night we blame you @MatildaK #mightbelove
Tanner grinned as he hit the shower. His work here was done.
…
Matilda was over anything to do with Tanner Stone by their Sunday lunch date. Her Twitter stream had lit up since the article and Tanner’s provocative tweet. If she had to read about one more of his virtues, she was shutting her account down for good.
She’d told herself to ignore them, but her colleagues at the office had taken great delight in stopping by to read them. Aloud.
Most were witty in the way only one hundred and forty characters and no requirement for punctuation engendered. A lot were eagerly whipping up speculation with the new hashtag #TannMat. Even the mightbelove hashtag had been mentioned by Callie Williams, a notorious gossip columnist at a rival paper.
Most were encouraging, clearly enjoying the whiff of a fresh celebrity romance. Some were not so nice—creepy, twisted, bordering on offensive. Matilda hadn’t blocked or unfollowed so many trolls in a long time.
At least the Smoke had won yesterday. Matilda wasn’t sure the mood on Twitter would have been so convivial if the team had lost. Thanks to Tanner, she’d have probably been booed off the social media platform.
But at least she felt on solid ground today as she drove to their third date.
Interview. Fuck. Interview.
Damn Tanner and his continual insistence on calling them dates.
He’d texted last night to ask if they could meet at her grandmother’s so he could catch up with her, and Matilda had agreed with alacrity, inviting him for lunch the next day.
A Sunday roast at gran’s was part of Matilda’s routine, and having Tanner on her turf was a welcome change. He wouldn’t dare try anything there. Hannah Kent would flay him alive with the sharpness of her tongue alone if he so much as put a toe out of line.
She may have had a soft spot for Matilda’s high school boyfriend, but Hannah had always insisted that Matilda and Tanner respect her rules and not fool around in the house. He’d been banned from her bedroom and not allowed in the house if Hannah hadn’t been there.
And Tanner had followed her rules to the letter, earning a great deal of Hannah’s respect. Although there was that one time out back behind the shed when things had gotten a little carried away… They’d been sent out to pick some tomatoes and peas from the garden for tea, but somehow Matilda had ended up with her hand down his pants, urging him to forget Hannah’s rules, so desperate to feel him inside her that a quick fuck against the shed wall had been all she’d been able to think about.
Luckily, he’d pulled them back from the brink. But it had been a close call. And after Matilda had gone in he’d had to hang around for a while outside waiting for his giant erection to subside.
He’d phoned her later that night complaining about his bicycle ride home with blue balls, and she’d taken pity on him and told him exactly what she’d wanted to do to him behind the shed as he’d masturbated, coming in a long, loud growl that had made her feel like the most powerful seventeen-year-old on earth.
Matilda smiled, thinking about it now as she pulled up in front of the home her grandmother had lived in ever since she’d married over sixty years ago. The smile died as a car pulled in behind her. It was some kind of dual cab, four-wheel drive thingy. It didn’t look particularly new or flashy, but it was still a long way from his second-hand bike.
She’d bet blue balls weren’t a problem in it.
Hell, she doubted blue balls were a problem for him at all these days.
Matilda’s face heated up, and she shook her head as she watched him in her rear view mirror getting out of his car. Idiot. Do not think about his balls. Be they blue, black, or bright orange with polka dots.
The last thing she wanted was pink cheeks when she greeted him. It was going to be embarrassing enough to face him given what had happened the last time they’d been together.
But they were on her turf now. Her turf. And Gran would be there for her.
He knocked on her window, and Matilda startled, her pulse accelerating, although she wasn’t entirely sure it had anything to do with the knock. She glanced at him, noticing the bright bunch of flowers in his hands for the first time. “Are we going in?” he asked.
“Yep.” She nodded, making a great show of unbuckling her seat belt and gathering her handbag, hoping the activity gave her pulse a chance to settle and the warmth some time to dissipate from her face.
He stood back as she opened the door and climbed out.
“You look lovely,” he said, taking in her cool maxi halter dress that crisscrossed at her nonexistent cleavage and fell to her ankles.
He leaned down to kiss her again like he had that first time, briefly on each cheek. The light aroma of roses, the heavy scent of lilies, and the faint whiff of liquorice intoxicated her, and she swayed toward him briefly, her eyes closing before he pulled back and her lashes fluttered open again.
“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him through the gate.
Matilda’s legs were decidedly unsteady as she navigated the front path and the three cement stairs to the door. It was locked, as usual, but she used her key, calling out as she pushed it open.
“Gran?”
“Through here, girlie.”
Her grandmother’s affectionate name for her always made Matilda smile, and they followed the still strong voice and the mouth-watering smell of cooking meat into the kitchen to discover her almost eighty-year-old grandmother perched precariously up a foot ladder, trying to reach the smoke detector.
“Gran!”
“Mrs. Kent,” Tanner said, dumping the flowers on the dining table as he strode over to the ladder, anchoring his foot and hands on it immediately. “I don’t think it’s very safe to be doing that.”
Hannah Kent smiled down at Tanner. “Hello, my dear boy. So nice to see you again. How long’s it been?”
He chuckled. “Too long. Now how about you let me do that?”
Hanna
h got one of those recalcitrant looks Matilda knew too well. The kind that always shocked police officers at demonstrations, who mistook her stooped frame and grey hair for a sign of gentility. “Do I look like an invalid to you?”
“Absolutely not, Mrs. K. But you wouldn’t want to see me emasculated in front of Matilda, would you?”
Hannah laughed her great big hooting laugh, running her gaze over Tanner’s broad shoulders. “Tanner Stone, you could dress up in drag and still not be emasculated.”
Matilda blinked. Dress up in drag?
“Fine, have at it,” she said, climbing down from the ladder, handing him a battery. “Sick of the damn thing chirping at me. Although I’m not sure if it’s this one or any of the others.”
Tanner took the battery. “I can change them all if you like. It’s no bother.”
“That’d be fabulous,” Hannah beamed at him.
Matilda grabbed her grandmother’s hand as she took the last step down. Hannah gave her a noisy kiss on the cheek but was distracted by Tanner heading up the ladder. Frankly, so was Matilda, and they both looked their fill. The tail of his checked, collared shirt hid that spectacular ass from view, and a pair of chinos that ended just above his knee concealed his powerful thighs, but the hard knots of his smooth calf muscles were on open display and, fortunately for them, now at eye level.
There was no leg hair, and Matilda realised belatedly that he must wax. It wasn’t unusual—a lot of athletes at the elite level did—she was just surprised to find it so damn sexy.
Her grandmother leaned in and brought her lips close to Matilda’s ear. “Please tell me you’re tapping that,” she whispered.
Matilda swivelled her head to stare at her grandmother. Tapping that? What the fuck?
Her grandmother hooted at Matilda’s consternation. “What?” she whispered, clearly unperturbed. “I keep up with the lingo.”
Matilda didn’t even know where to start. Should she explain that it would be Tanner who was doing the tapping if tapping was what was happening, which it definitely was not.
Nor would it be, either.
“Where’s the next one?” Tanner asked, climbing down, apparently blissfully ignorant of the conversation.
“The hallway and in my bedroom,” Hannah smiled at him and handed him another two batteries off the table. He smiled back and picked up the stepladder, heading for the hallway.
“I take it that’s a no?” her grandmother asked as Tanner disappeared from sight.
Heat flushed Matilda’s cheeks. She’d never told her grandmother what had happened with her and Tanner. Just that it had been a mutual decision, given she was going to Stanford and he was going to buttfuck nowhere. Hannah had thought it very wise and sensible.
Matilda wondered if her grandmother would be so gung-ho with the tapping if she knew about Jessica Duffy.
“I’m interviewing him,” Matilda said, keeping her voice low.
Hannah snorted. “You’re a journalist, girlie, not a doctor. You haven’t taken the Hippocratic oath.”
“It’s one of those unwritten laws. Professional ethics. Integrity.” Matilda folded her arms. “You know, that thing you drummed into me.”
“So I did.” She shook her head and tsked. “That was silly of me. Integrity hasn’t given me any great-grandbabies yet, has it? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
“I thought you wanted me to be a career woman?”
“I do. A career woman with babies. And you two would make very nice babies. Did you see those calves?”
Her grandmother bustled over to the oven to check the meat just as Tanner entered the kitchen. Matilda, still gaping over the whole baby thing, hoped like hell he hadn’t heard it.
“That smells great, Mrs. K,” he said.
“It’s roast pork. You’re favourite, I seem to remember.”
Matilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Tanner liked everything you made.”
“I remember,” she beamed.
“Your lasagne,” Tanner agreed. “Your vanilla slice. Those caramel milkshakes you used to make us after school for an energy boost.”
“Oh, yes,” Hannah laughed. “But I don’t really think it was my milkshakes that was bringing you to the yard, was it?”
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Tanner burst out laughing, his hand splayed over his flat belly.
“Gran!” she chastised, shooting an annoyed glance at Tanner.
“What?” Hannah dismissed in good humour. “You’re not teenagers anymore, dear. Don’t have to mind my p’s and q’s these days.”
Tanner managed to wrangle himself back under control. “Was I that transparent, Mrs. K?”
“Of course, sweetie.” She beamed. “Now, this is probably twenty minutes away from being done. Would you like a beer?”
Matilda barely registered the flow of conversation after that, as Tanner and her grandmother caught up on old times, bantering over roast pork while she tried to regain her balance. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to pan out. This was her turf. She was supposed to feel in control here. But with her grandmother practically pimping her out to Tanner in the hopes of great-grandbabies, Matilda felt all at sea.
Frankly, she was relieved to be shooed outside after lunch to sit on the small undercover porch with Tanner while her grandmother made them cups of tea. That was until she spied the old shed standing where it always had, in pretty good shape considering how old it was.
Tanner, who was standing at the wooden balustrade, looking out over Hannah’s still extensive veggie garden, turned suddenly. “I remember that shed,” he said, a smile playing on his wicked mouth and creasing his sexy face, emphasising the broken angle of his nose.
Matilda was pleased she’d already taken a chair as her legs trembled and her belly looped the loop. She set her gaze on the row of snow peas creeping all over a wire frame in the middle of the garden, as her cheeks flamed. She couldn’t have held his gaze even if she’d wanted to, now the state of his balls and how they’d relieved them all those years ago was back front and centre.
“Looks like you do, too,” he grinned.
Grinned like the thing that ended their relationship hadn’t happened. How could he act as if the good times were all there were between them, and not be ashamed at what he’d done?
Had she really meant that little to him?
They could have gone on to have so many more of those times. Hell, maybe they could still have been together.
Matilda took a couple of deep breaths, determined to bury the kernel of hurt that pulsed inside her. She cleared her throat to change the subject, but then Tanner lounged against the top rail and almost toppled off the patio into the cement-edged petunia bed below when the balustrade gave away.
“Tanner!” Matilda’s pulse leaped as she sprang out of her chair, reaching for him as he flailed for a beat or two before grabbing the nearby post and righting himself. “Are you all right?” she gasped as she grabbed his arm.
“Yes,” he assured her, looking behind him. It was only about a foot drop, but Matilda supposed when you were one of the highest paid rugby players in the country, any potential for injury was to be avoided at all costs.
Hannah wandered out with a tray as Tanner crouched down to inspect the damage to the railing. “Oh, dear,” she said, putting the tray down. “That’s been a bit wobbly for a while now.”
“Gran, why didn’t you tell me? I could have got someone around to get it fixed.”
Dear God, what if Gran had fallen into the garden bed? She could have broken her hip or smacked her head and be lying there for days, seeing as how she refused to wear the medical-alert device Matilda had purchased for her.
“I’m perfectly capable of making my own arrangements, thank you, girlie. I even bought some paint a few months back to give it a bit of a facelift, but I rarely sit out here these days, so it always slips my mind.”
“No worries,” Tanner said, standing. “The wood’s rotted all the way along, thoug
h. But that’s easily replaced. Can’t be more than a few meters. Have you got a tape measure?”
“Only a seamstress one. Not the retractable ones that builders have.”
“That’ll do,” he assured her.
Matilda blinked as her grandmother went off in search of one. “What are you doing?”
“I noticed a hardware store just down the road. I can buy the materials and have the railing replaced in a few hours.”
“You…can?”
“Sure,” he grinned. “I juggled rugby and part-time work as a carpenter for a couple of years before I joined the pros. Had to support myself somehow.”
“Oh.” Matilda had assumed he’d been paid well all along. “You didn’t mention it.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
It hadn’t been said with any kind of accusation but it felt like one. He was right, she hadn’t asked. It was easier for her to look upon him as a guy who had everything rather than the boy who’d come from nothing.
Matilda resolved to be more thorough, as Hannah arrived back with the tape measure. Tanner completed the measuring efficiently. “I’ll be back in about half an hour and have this done in no time,” he said to Hannah, who grinned at him like he’d offered to build her a whole new house. He glanced at Matilda, a small smile playing around his mouth. “You wanna come for a ride?”
“Of course she does,” Hannah piped up.
Matilda frowned at her grandmother. “No. Thank you. I’ll wait here and keep Gran company.”
He grinned. “Suit yourself.” Then he nodded at them both and departed.
Her grandmother sighed and shook her head at Matilda. “I remember a time when you would have jumped at that invitation.”
Her grandmother was right. Hell, if Tanner had owned a car instead of a bike they’d have probably lost their virginities much, much earlier.
Matilda shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Hannah inspected her face for long moments. “Life’s short, sweetie. I sure as hell don’t have to tell you that.”
She got a familiar distant look on her face and Matilda knew her grandmother was thinking about her own losses. Her daughter-in-law who’d died shortly after Matilda’s birth, her son who had taken his life at the age of twenty-five, and her beloved husband who had died of a heart attack at forty.