Taming the Legend (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“She’s not coming to San Diego?” Jen asked, her face paler than usual.

“She’s not coming to San Diego.” Ash faced the team with Camila at his side. They’d called an emergency team meeting before breakfast, even though they knew the girls had already heard Hannah’s side of the story. Their group leader had done her best to convince Hannah to stay, but her
mom had shown up at ten last night and they’d left without saying a word to him or Camila. Regret, shame and anger made burning pain swirl in his gut, but he had to keep it there because right now his team needed him to be solid. “Unfortunately, that means we’re a sevens team with no substitutes.”

It meant so much more than that, but they all knew it and he couldn’t put it into words right
now. So he focused on the thing he always focused on best: his job. “We’re still going to San Diego, and we’re still playing to win. I know we’ll all miss Hannah—”

“She was our best player,” Tori said.

Very very true. Not that he would admit it. “You all have individual strengths, and we’re going to work together so your strengths complement each other, okay? We can do this.”

We
have to do this.

“So you guys are, like, Hannah’s birth parents?” Kayla asked.

Camila nodded. “We are.”

All seven young heads ping-ponged back and forth between him and Camila, and he could practically see their inappropriate thoughts. He’d learned
way
more about how teenage girls thought than he’d ever wanted to know.

He’d learned their minds were just as dirty as teenage
boys’.

“So you guys have, like—”

“Enough personal questions about me and Camila,” he rushed to say, cutting Tori off. “Let’s focus on this weekend. We’ve got a lot to do to get ready. We need to focus, and we need to work as a team. But before we can do that, we need to talk about how Hannah’s leaving makes us feel.”

They all just blinked at him.

“Come on. Get it out now because
carrying it onto the pitch will just make it worse.”

“I’m worried we’re going to lose without her,” Katie said. A couple of girls nodded.

“Lose? We’ll get our asses kicked up and down the pitch,” Tori added.

They were all quiet a second, and Ash didn’t rush to offer false reassurances. This meeting wasn’t about that. It was about letting them express themselves so their thoughts
didn’t fester.

“I miss her,” Jen said.

They all nodded, and the emptiness he’d been fighting since retirement grew so big it threatened to swallow him. He missed Hannah, too, but more than anything he missed what might’ve been if he’d had a chance to live a different life.

The week passed quickly—far too quickly. Every night, he and Camila curled up with each other in her bed, determined
to appreciate every moment they had together since they had fuck-all quality time during the days. She devoted as much time as she could to helping out at practices, but with nearly a hundred other teenagers at the camp, she had to split her attention among the other groups too.

Word had got out that he was coaching an amateur girls’ team for one of the sevens circuit’s biggest tournaments.
Reporters from every rugby nation called him at all hours. When they played their first match, all eyes would be on him and his team—though he’d carefully hidden that from them—and the expectations were ramping up. He’d had hundreds of messages from friends and former foes taking the piss out of him—all in a friendly way, but enough to give him a taste of what was in store if he didn’t win. Several
had threatened to show up, just for the entertainment value. A few had asked why he was doing it, and he’d told them about the camp but asked them to keep its financial problems private. The last thing Camila or his team needed was that splashed all over the rugby news.

Before he knew it, he was on a minibus driving down a freeway choked with a billion cars. They’d planned to be there early
enough to have a team meeting before joining the girls’ parents for dinner, but by the time they finally made it to downtown San Diego it was dark, ratcheting up his already high anxiety levels. He stared out the window at the nineteenth-century buildings and the mania of the streets surrounding him. The bars and restaurants were heaving with revelers, some well dressed and others clearly enjoying
the laid-back atmosphere of the beach city.

Sitting next to him, Camila asked, “Ever been here before?”

“Never.” He watched two women in string bikini tops walk down the pavement with their bums hanging out of their cutoff shorts. “Not sure why not.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and he gave her a teasing smile. “Think we can get you a bikini?”

“I guess it’s only fair, since
I get such a kick out of you in your short rugby shorts.”

“Hey—those are professional attire.”

“And I respect you greatly when you’re wearing them.”

He slid his hand onto her knee and squeezed quickly, still uncomfortable with displaying affection in front of the girls, despite the fact their relationship had been outed.

The bus filled with the sound of the girls’ excited chatter.
They’d been fairly subdued all week, but they’d focused and worked hard. He was proud of them. So damn proud. And he was going to miss them when he left.

Don’t think about it. Focus on tomorrow.
The day after that was too much.

The minibus pulled onto a side street and then into a small car park. They all piled out, still chattering away until they caught a glimpse of the run-down hovel
they were staying in and their mirth died down. Tori clutched her bag as if she expected someone to mug her any second. “Wow, Mila. No expense spent, huh?”

Mila cringed. The girls didn’t know about the camp’s financial crisis. She hadn’t wanted Ash to tell them because she wanted them to enjoy the tournament and do their best for themselves, not for her or for the camp. But Ash could see
she was embarrassed by the accommodation.

He gave Tori a warning look. “Buck up. It’ll put hair on your chest. Oh, wait—probably not a selling point.”

Camila led them into the hotel’s lobby and checked them all in while Ash sat with the girls, trying to steady their last-minute nerves even though he was feeling them himself. He’d experienced pressure before, but never this kind. He’d
always competed for his team, never wanting to let them down. He’d competed for money, for glory, for pride and, most of all, because he was driven to win. But he’d never had someone depend so much on his success.

“All right, here are the room assignments. Tori and Jen, you’re together.” Camila handed each of the girls a key. “Katie and Marina, here are yours.”

She went through them
all until everyone had a key. “Your parents are staying at this hotel with us, and I think most of them have already checked in. We’re all supposed to meet in the lobby in ten minutes for dinner, so go drop your things in your rooms and come back quickly. I’m afraid we’ll have to come straight back here after dinner because Ash is giving you a 10 p.m. curfew tonight and tomorrow, but Sunday night
we’re all going out to celebrate your victory. Chop chop!”

“Wait!” Ash halted them with a shout. They skidded to a stop on the weirdly slick linoleum floor. “I’m sorry we don’t have time for a proper team meeting, but I have something for all of you. This week, you’ve all shown me you’re worthy of the name Legends. I wanted to make sure you dress the part.”

He unzipped his suitcase and
pulled out the neatly folded uniforms he’d ordered. They replicated the Legends kit as closely as possible, with green-and-white fitted shirts and white shorts. Each shirt had LEGENDS and the position number on the back but, unlike the professional kit, the advertising space on the front said
Lake Sunshine Camp
with Camila’s web address. He handed them out, leaving the one he’d ordered Hannah
in his bag.

The girls gasped and ripped the plastic off to hold the shirts up to themselves. Camila beamed at him. He’d told her he was ordering them—she’d been planning to buy green T-shirts and iron-on numbers—but he’d secretly worked with Becca to get the camp’s logo onto the shirts.

“Ashley, you
rock!
” Tori and Katie gave him exuberant hugs, and he had to avoid Camila’s gaze since
he knew he was blushing. The other girls thanked him with far less physical contact, which he was grateful for, and raced off to their rooms, leaving Ash and Camila alone.

“Who’s my roommate?” he teased.

“You’re looking at her.”

His brows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I figured there was no point spending seventy dollars on an extra room just to keep up a pretense the girls have
already seen through.”

His jaw dropped. “Seventy dollars? The rooms cost
seventy
dollars?” Fucking hell, it’d been a long time since he’d stayed anywhere that cheap. Even the hotel he’d taken Mila to in Barcelona had cost more than that.

“Most of them cost fifty-nine, actually. The ‘penthouse’ is seventy dollars. I was going to book it for myself but decided against it.” She winked at
him and picked up her stuff. “Don’t worry. I brought flea repellent.”

She started to turn away, but he yanked her back. Her soft chest pressed against him, and he gazed down at the woman who’d had the guts to ask him for so much yet had given him so much more in return. He kissed her gently and said, “You’re part of my team too, you know.”

Gaze besotted and happy, she murmured, “What
are you talking about?”

He let go long enough to pick up the second-to-last shirt in his bag. He pulled it from its plastic and shook it out. It looked just like the girls’ shirts, except over the left breast the words
Coach Morales
were sewn into the fabric. “Here you go, Coach.”

Her grin grew huge, and she threw herself into his arms.

Hours later, after he and Camila climbed into
bed, he stroked her hair away from her cheek, and all the emotions he’d been struggling to keep at bay rushed at him. He wanted this woman, wanted to build a life and a future with her. Wanted absolutely everything with her.

As usual, she seemed to read his mood if not his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “I love you, Mila.”

It was the first time he’d come right out and said it—to her or to anyone. Her grin spread, and she teased the hair at his temples as she breathed a happy sigh of relief. “I love you too.”

She’d said it once before, but joy hit him just as hard this time. Joy and endless possibility. “Come to London with me. You can do exactly what you’re doing here, only there.”

Surprise flashed across
her face. “I… Ash…”

“I can’t tell you how many deprived kids there are who could benefit from your work.”

She pushed herself up to sitting and leaned back against the pillows, her tight, nearly transparent nightgown momentarily distracting him. “It’s not about the work. Not completely. It’s the place. The camp is my home. It saved me. It’s my last connection with my dad. I’ve put everything
I am into building it and helping it survive. And now that I’ve met Hannah? I know she’s not ready right now, but one day… I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.”

His hope died a little with every word, smothered by the prospect of sacrificing one of his dreams for the other. Camila or career. He’d sacrificed one before, and it had led to him being on top of the world for nearly two decades. But the
thought of leaving her again, it sickened him.

He slid his hand up her neck to tangle in her hair, holding her close while he kissed her with all the apology and regret that had simmered inside him since the day he’d broken her heart. The day he’d broken his own. She squirmed against him, and heat exploded low in his belly. His desire for her went beyond want. He needed her. Needed everything
about her—her touch, her taste, her scent. Her broken heart and insecurities. Her strength and resilience and prizefighter attitude.

Everything.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered against his lips.

He kissed her again, till she pulled back and broke him with, “But I won’t beg you to stay. Not again.”

Fuck. He hooked his arms beneath her and slid her down the bed, following
her into the soft mattress. Softness, softness everywhere. Her body, lush and sweet. Her mouth, warm and open. She kept up her gentle assault on his senses. Her nails dug into his scalp in a pleasure bordering on pain. Her mouth feasted on him. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, making the cotton of her nightgown abrade his suddenly sensitive nipples. His cock swelled and ached, needing to
fill her, mate with her, complete her and feel complete because of her.

He worked his hands beneath her nightgown. How many times had he imagined doing this over the years? How deeply had she carved herself into his memory? The satiny skin of her thighs trembled beneath his palms as he stroked up to her hips, then over her damp cotton-covered mound.

“I want you, Ash.” Her lips released
his name on a drawn-out moan as his thumbs found her clitoris and circled. “Oh,
Dios.
Want you so bad.”

He pressed openmouthed kisses along the sensitive column of her neck and slipped his thumbs beneath her panties, finally touching her smoothest skin. She arched beneath him, making keening noises deep in her throat. So deep he could picture himself there. She shifted her legs, opening herself
to him. “I want. I want.”

He thought her brain had simply skipped a word. His wasn’t functioning all that well either. But when she repeated it again, he finally heard her.

Her nightgown was tight around her breasts but loose below her waist so he pushed it up to her hips and kissed his way down her body, talking the whole way. Letting his voice reach her in places his fingers couldn’t.
“What do you want?”

“Everything. Nothing.”

Strangely, he understood. He wanted everything with her, yet he already felt too much. He needed the numbness of physical relief as much as he craved the fullness of climax.

He kissed his way to her waist before kneeling between her spread knees. She stilled, moving only her chest with every breath and her fingers, which gripped the sheets.
She loved to hear him talk; she’d told him that before. He understood. Her accent made him harder than a post. He needed her too badly to last long, so he had to deploy every weapon in his arsenal to make her feel everything he felt.