Taming the Legend (19 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Ash couldn’t breathe. Weight pressed on his chest, collapsing him like an accordion.

And then all the pressure released and his future opened up and angels sang
Hallelujah!

“Mate, you there?”

“You’re quitting?” It was a hoarse whisper and the best he could do, given the shock.

“Yeah. Looks like I am.” Ruud sounded reluctant, at best. “My eldest
daughter just had a baby, and my wife’s insisting on moving back to Cape Town to be near the grandbaby. She said she’s going with or without me.” He paused. “I can’t tell you how long I had to think about it. Anyway, I haven’t officially done the deed yet. I wanted you to know because I’d be surprised if you weren’t on the list for my replacement. And you deserve a shot at this more than anyone.”

Words completely failed him. “Ruud, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take it if they offer it to you, or you’ll fight for it if they don’t. Because you helped build this team, son, and I want to know I’m leaving them in the best-possible hands.”

“I will. Absolutely. Thank you.” From the bottom of his heart, he couldn’t think of anything better. Except—

His gaze strayed
to Camila, who was now sitting cross-legged next to him, wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a solemnity that signaled a funeral.

“I’ve got to go,” Ruud said, echoing the words that bounced around Ash’s head. “I’m parked in front of the stadium trying to work up the nerve to go in. Better get this over with. Tell me retirement’s a good thing.”

“You’ll fucking hate it. But don’t worry—yours’ll
probably last as long as mine. I’m sure you’ll find a team down there and end up happy.”

“Hope so. Hope so. All right. Here I go. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, mate. And thanks again.” Ash disconnected the call and let the phone drop to the mattress. “That was my old coach at Legends.”

“I heard. Congratulations. It’s…it’s
wonderful
news.” Her tone didn’t sound forced or fake. Sad,
yes. But also genuine, as if she wanted his happiness more than anything.

“Mila—” Yet again, his brain-mouth connection failed. He would be leaving her all over again, only this time they were both grown up and understood the importance of things like careers.

She shifted onto her knees and then onto all fours, bridging the distance between them so she could kiss him. Her kiss was soft
and sweet, but it sparked a desire in him that burst into flames. He needed her and was losing her all at once. He clasped her head and swept his tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth and kissed him deeply before launching herself at him. They fell back onto the mattress in a tangle of sheets and duvet and T-shirt and hands and legs. She writhed against him until the shirt she wore rode
up to her waist and bared her to him.

They had no patience for foreplay. Ash’s hand shot over to the bedside table and yanked open a drawer. He fumbled for the box of condoms. When he’d finally tugged one on, he rolled Camila onto her back and joined with her in one hard thrust. Her back arched, her breasts shimmying beneath his shirt as she moaned. He thrust as he swept the shirt up to bare
her bouncy breasts to his hands, his lips, his tongue. She rode him from beneath, rolling her hips and clasping his arse so hard he’d probably end up with ten fingertip-sized bruises.

I want you. All of you.

She flew apart, crying out as her body pulsed around him and made him lose what little control he had left. The pressure in his cock exploded, making him shout and hold her hips
still as he spent himself. All his strength ebbed away quickly, and he collapsed, letting himself revel in the heavenly softness of her slick body beneath his before rolling onto the mattress next to her, breathing as if he’d just finished playing a hard match. A match that would determine everything—the champion and the loser. Right now he should feel like the champion, so why did it feel like he
was facing relegation? He dragged a shaky hand through his damp hair. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice small and distant. “Fuck.”

He shifted onto his side so he could look down at her. She stared off into space for a long time as he gently brushed her hair from her damp face.

“This is the thing, isn’t it?” she said. “The thing you’ve been waiting for.”

“I didn’t know what
I was waiting for, but if I’d made a wish list, this would’ve been at the top.” Except now she was up there, too, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do about that. Ask her to give up everything she’d worked for so he could fulfill his dreams? A question like that signaled a commitment he wasn’t ready to make. How could he ask it of her when she’d been back in his life for such a short time? How
could he do it at all when he knew what she’d already been forced to sacrifice so he could succeed?

When she finally looked at him, she gave him a sad smile and lifted her hand to stroke his cheek, his jaw, his chin. The soft touch sent helpless shivers racing through him. “I couldn’t hear everything he said, but I heard enough. Do you think they’ll offer you the job?”

“I don’t know.
It would make sense if they did. They would at least consider me for it, even if my lack of coaching experience held them back from putting me at the top of the list. They know I’d be the fan favorite.”

“And this is what you want to do, isn’t it?”

It was. It absolutely was. But that didn’t mean he lacked reservations—leaving her first and foremost. He wanted more time—especially after
last night. He wanted lots and lots more time to do all the things he’d fantasized about doing with her when he’d been a lonely teenager cuddling his fucking pillow. But he couldn’t admit that, so he answered the question he thought she was asking. “It’s a huge responsibility. Being a great player doesn’t mean I’ll be a great coach. I could take over the team, make the wrong decisions and end up
destroying everything I worked so hard for all these years.”

“Or you could take over the team, continue working hard and discover you’re just as amazing at this as you were as a player.”

“Could do.” The thought was so damn tempting. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into the touch of her fingers. “I shouldn’t have started this with you. I thought we would have more time.”

Her fingers
stilled. “You’re not leaving before the tournament, are you?”

His eyes shot open. “Hell no. Not a chance. I made you a promise, and I’m keeping it. But, if everything works out, I’d have to leave right after it.”

She lay there so calmly that he couldn’t get a read on her thoughts. Not that he trusted himself to interpret them correctly anyway. “Mila, I have to take this chance.”

“I know. And I’m happy for you. Thrilled.”

She didn’t sound it. Didn’t look it either. He liberated his hand from her grasp and pressed it against his throbbing temple. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He hadn’t had time to start expecting anything, really. But messy tears and begging wouldn’t have surprised him.
This
reaction—support and encouragement, even if she was clearly upset—this
he hadn’t expected.

He stared down at her, bleakness gnawing away at his insides. As much as he loved being around her, he needed his work. As much as he loved the challenge of introducing kids to the world’s greatest sport, he needed the challenge of a championship team. Coaching Trenton’s Legends was fun—and fucking hell was it challenging—but it wasn’t the thing he’d been waiting for.
He needed more than a summer job. He needed something that would excite him the way playing had.

The opportunity to coach London Legends—that didn’t just hit his sweet spot. It licked the hell out of it.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, terrified of her answer.

She pushed herself up and sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him. “Go back in time about twelve hours.”

She
got up, changed into her clothes from the night before, kissed his cheek and left. Memories of celebrating his final victory with Legends came back to him, memories of his teammates’ families running onto the pitch while he celebrated all alone in a crowd of thousands. Did he want to spend the rest of his working life that way?

He didn’t know if he wanted Camila forever, but he
did
know he
wasn’t ready to give her up. Nor was he ready to give up hope she would eventually join him in London.

He needed to figure out if they could have more. He needed to discover if she would be happy running onto the pitch to celebrate his victories with him.

Chapter Nineteen

He was leaving. She’d known it, of course, but listening to his end of the conversation was like hearing the final nail being hammered into her fledgling hope they could have something lasting.

His breathless excitement—
that
had killed her. As if he couldn’t believe his luck. For those moments, she’d ceased to exist. She’d lain beside him knowing he’d forgotten
all about her, helpless to do anything but listen as he drifted away from her, all the way back to London.

She didn’t blame him for that. Oh, part of her wanted to, but she was a big girl and understood what was at stake. His career was more than a paycheck. It was his whole identity. How could she ever ask him to give that up?

But how could she give up the friendship they’d developed,
especially now it included the best sex she’d ever had? It wasn’t just Ash’s body or skill but the way they related to each other that made her want him so badly. When she was with him, she felt more excited than when she was with anyone else.

The thought of losing him was like a physical chasm between her heart and her loins.

She closed his door behind her and stepped off his porch
into the darkness. She was sneaking back to her cabin when she saw the glint of moonlight off white paper fluttering from trees.

Toilet paper. Again.

Not what she needed this morning.

She glanced around, panic suddenly showing her how careless she’d been to walk out his front door before sunrise. Anyone could’ve seen her. Becca lived right next door to him, and—despite being told
never to do it—the campers sometimes sneaked out to make mischief. Judging by the toilet paper decorating the trees around her, they had done so at some point in the night.

Ash had told her to come get him if the kids TPed the camp again, but she couldn’t. Not now. It was hard enough to stop berating herself for sleeping with him the night before. It would be even worse if she came to rely
on him for more than sexual relief and companionship.

She walked around the back of the lodge to the toolshed and pulled out the ladder. After carrying it to the decorated trees, she went back to the shed and grabbed a rake and a roll of big black trash bags. Since it was too dark for her to see spiders, she bashed the trash bags against the wall next to where the broom hung to dislodge any
creepy-crawlies.

The physical labor helped. An hour of cleanup turned out to be better than an hour of moping around her cabin, crying into her pillow, which was how she would’ve spent the time until sunrise. Maybe she should seek out the young vandals and thank them. Or maybe she’d just go back to her cabin, take a shower and get on with her life.

She collapsed the ladder and carried
it back to the toolshed, but just before she got there she stumbled over a big brush.

No, not a brush. She leaned the ladder against the side of the shed and bent down. It was the bristly head of the broom. Someone had unscrewed it from the broom handle. She was sure it hadn’t been there when she’d gotten the supplies out. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d seen the broom where it always
was, hanging on the shed wall next to some buckets.

She lifted the ladder and put it away, but the wall space where the broom and buckets normally hung was empty. Misgivings tickled her spine. Something creepier than spiders was going on here. Her gaze darting in every direction, she closed and locked the shed, then headed back to her cabin. On her way, she glanced over the bluff at the lake
below and came to a dead halt. Ash was halfway down the dock, crouching with his back to her and a couple of buckets next to him. Even though she doubted he would turn and see her, she ducked behind a tree and watched as he filled a bucket with lake water. Then he filled another and another. Finally, he had four buckets and picked up a long stick—the broom handle—from the dock. He threaded it
through the handles of the buckets, stood in the middle and hoisted his makeshift water carrier onto his shoulders. It had to weigh a ton, but he never faltered as he carried it back to shore and headed up the path toward the camp.

Camila made herself as small as she could and hoped the tree hid her. But instead of taking the path that led to the lodge and the shed—and to her—he cut through
the trees and stepped onto the path to the sports field. She waited a minute before following. When she got to the line of trees surrounding the field, she hid as he used one of the buckets to fill a watering can he must’ve stashed there.

Holy shit. It was just past sunrise. He’d received news that his dream job was about to be vacant. He’d spent the whole night making her scream for
Dios.
And he was watering her sports field.

She leaned her forehead against the tree, its rough bark biting into her skin but she didn’t care. Even though he’d found out he had a good shot at being a superstar again, he was still trying to make life easier for her in one of the quietest, humblest ways possible.

He might’ve gone a couple of weeks without being a Legend, but he’d just sealed
his status to her. In her book, he would always be legendary.

Her heart raced as she sneaked away as quietly as possible. When she figured she was probably out of hearing range, she rushed back to her cabin, found a piece of paper and hastily wrote:

Dear Ash,

Those buckets looked heavy. I hope you didn’t get blisters because I have ideas for those hands of yours. Do you have dinner
plans? If not, invite me over. I work till five.

P.S. Don’t worry—Coach Morales will be at rugby practice on time today. I just don’t want to discuss anything personal in front of the girls.

P.P.S. I probably shouldn’t be seen entering your cabin after hours. Fortunately, I’m little enough that I can crawl through a back window. Don’t ask how I know that.

Then she broke into his
cabin and laid it on his bathroom sink. It was going to hurt when he left—she couldn’t help that. But how much worse would it hurt to know she’d wasted the short time they had left together. They might only have three weeks, but she was going to make them count.

She worked and waited all morning, feeling silly about how badly she wanted it to be two so she could run over to the sports field
and see him. Before lunch someone knocked on her door and she immediately sat up straighter. “Come in!”

Becca poked her head around the door, and Camila deflated a little. “Hey. I was wondering—if I work through lunch, would you mind if I go a few minutes early tonight?”

“Course not.” She forced a smile. “Got fun plans?”

Becca grinned and leaned against the doorjamb. “Last night
I went out with a friend of a friend, and he asked if he could take me out tonight too. He’s a professional snowboarder and so freaking hot I can hardly wait to rip his clothes off and rub my face all over him.”

“Aww, it’s sweet the way you kids court each other these days.”

Becca laughed and brought her hands out from behind her back, tossing a manila envelope onto Camila’s desk. “Anyway,
Ash dropped that off a few minutes ago. He said it had some important tournament registration information in it. I told him I’m taking care of all that, but he said you’d asked for this specifically. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Oh hell no.
Camila tried to keep her smile professional and not at all eager to get rid of her. “Nope. I’ll pick up this one.”

“Great. Thanks!” Becca
closed the office door on her way out, and Camila waited three seconds before ripping open the envelope. One small piece of the camp’s letterhead fell out.

Dear Mila,

Where I come from, breaking and entering is a crime, and spying is only encouraged if your surname is Bond.

Despite your criminal tendencies, you are cordially invited to enjoy Lake Sunshine’s finest pasta with tomato
sauce this evening, 6:30, my place. I’ll leave the bedroom window open and a pillow on the floor, just in case you’ve overestimated your agility.

Can’t wait to see you.

P.S. Make sure you dress appropriately for practice. Today we’re working on scrums. There will be sweat, and there will be tears—maybe for you and the girls too.

She laid the letter on her desk, then laid her face
down on top of it. He made her laugh and he made her excited. But most of all, he made her feel like someone got her.

What the hell was she going to do without him?