Taming the Legend (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

The next morning, the minibus picked up the team for their last day of the tournament. The girls were chatty and happy as they climbed aboard, but Ash felt more nervous than ever before. He sat next to Camila, who was silent and subdued. She hadn’t spent the night with him last night. She’d booked herself into the seventy-nine-dollar penthouse instead, saying
she needed some space and wanted to give him time with his friends.

He hadn’t wanted that space but he’d taken advantage of it and got a few things done. A few life-changing things, one of them being waking his mum up in the middle of the night so she could meet Hannah over Skype and—after Hannah had left his room—so he could have a long conversation about the future with her. He’d needed
her advice and her blessing. She’d given him both.

Now Hannah sat in the back of the minibus, reading rugby reports on his tablet like an angel.

Okay, maybe that was the dad in him talking. She sat quietly. That was angelic enough.

And then she shattered the silence. “Hey, everyone, listen up. Apparently there’s a rugby tradition Ashford has been hiding from us, but as team captain
I feel it’s my duty to bring it to your attention.”

Ash cursed softly and slapped his hands over his eyes.

“What’s she talking about?” Camila whispered.

“Don’t know, but if it’s a rugby tradition it’ll involve nudity. I don’t want to see anything.”

Suddenly the minibus was filled with the raucous sound of men singing from his tablet. The familiar tune wormed its way into Ash’s
head and he burst out laughing.

“Ashlington?” Hannah said, using one of the dozen ridiculous nicknames she’d settled on for him. “Care to lead us in song?”

He twisted in his seat. “You’re the skipper, Hannah. You do the honors.”

And then he grinned like a maniac as his daughter taught the team the words to a filthy rugby song to the tune of “This Old Man.” By the time the bus pulled
into the car park at the rugby pitch, all the girls were shouting at the tops of their lungs, “Rugby men, they play eight, all they do is masturbate! With a nick nack paddy whack give the boy a bone, rugby men have sex alone!”

Camila had been cringing for the last seven stanzas. “Their parents are going to kill me—after they sue me.”

“Believe me, that’s the best song they could’ve picked.
Consider yourself lucky they don’t know the hand gestures.”

They lost the first match of the day 21-14. But their scores were getting closer, and they were working together as a team. They needed to win their next two to have a shot at the playoffs this afternoon.

Click click.
Jesus, the photographers hadn’t left him alone. Each
click
was a catalog of his humiliation as a coach. His
fledgling career was doomed if he couldn’t even coach a high school team to win a single match.

But the teams they were up against were good. Really bloody good.

He gathered his team together before their next match and said, “We need to win this one for a chance at the playoffs. I know Camila told you yesterday to play for fun, and that’s what I want you to do. Enjoy the hell out of
this match and the two that come next. With me on three—one, two—”

“Legends!”

They jogged onto the pitch amid a raucous reception. They were much more evenly matched against this team. Within a minute, Marina had scored a try, thanks to Hannah’s skillful handling of the scrum. Then Hannah made another try, this time for Tori, who ran her heart out and evaded tackles left and right. Ash
pumped his fist by his side, his ears ringing from Camila’s excited shouts behind him.

They lost by only one point.

He’d made Camila a promise, and he’d completely failed. He hadn’t saved her camp. Her livelihood would be lost, and he knew better than to think she would choose him out of desperation. She’d turned him down for the best of reasons—to build a relationship with their daughter.
It was a reason he completely understood.

He forced a false smile and congratulated the girls as they jogged off the pitch. Camila did the same. The girls were quiet as they hugged her. She told them how proud she was at everything they’d achieved and squeezed them so tightly, Ash worried she would snap them in half.

An hour later, the stadium erupted in cheers as their team jogged onto
the pitch for their final match. During his final fifteen minutes as their coach, a nostalgic pride bustled through him. Today they’d made good on their promise to Camila. They’d laughed and smiled, played hard and played with pride. They’d shown the world what they could do and proved him right.

They were at least mediocre.

And they won something. The wooden spoon.

His mates’ stares
heated his back. Last night he’d called his agent and had a long, fraught discussion. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but word spread quickly at rugby clubs so his friends might already know. Certainly Cally would.

They’d lost every single match, but they ran off the pitch waving at the crowd like champions. Another team ran onto the pitch, actual contenders for the title, so Ash hustled his team
over to a far corner where his Legends teammates waited. He’d asked them to be here so he could make a special announcement. It seemed only right to have friends old and new together as he did it.

For the first time in a long time, he had no winner’s speech to make. Yet he didn’t feel as if he were giving a loser’s speech either.

“First of all,” he said, “I want to echo what Camila just
told you. I’m proud as hell of the way you played today. You showed heart and class, and I feel truly honored I’ve been able to introduce you to rugby. I hope you’ve had fun, and I hope you all keep playing.”

A few of them smiled and nodded. A few wiped their faces against their shoulders, trying to get rid of their tears without letting go of each other.

“Since I retired, I’ve been
asked over and over what I’m going to do next,” he said, echoing the speech he’d made a month ago in the London penthouse where Camila had spun his life out of control. She stood next to him with one arm around his waist and one around Hannah’s. Her body trembled, and he hated how much she must be hurting.

“I waited quite a while for the right offer to come along, and I looked for it so hard
I almost missed it.” He lowered his arms from around Camila and Cally and stepped into the middle of the circle. Dropping to his knee in front of Camila, he took her hand and looked into her stunning, shocked eyes. “Mila, I lost you once, but I will do anything in my power never to lose you again. You were my first love, and you will be my last. I truly hope you’ll make me the happiest man in
the world by saying you’ll marry me.”

Her breathing became panicky, and he rushed to say, “Before you decide, you should know I’m unemployed and quite possibly unemployable right now. You see, last night I broke my contract with Legends. But the San Diego Sevens happens every year, so maybe I can approach universities and see if they have a team or want to develop a rugby program. I built
a career for myself once, and I can do it again. I really don’t care what I do, as long as I can go home every night and be with you. What do you say?”

“Yes!” She collapsed into his arms so hard she knocked him flat on his back in the grass. He squeezed her tightly and buried his face in her hair.

“Where’s the ring?” Hannah asked.

“In my pocket.” He reached in and pulled out a small
box. “I should probably warn you that I bought it at 2 a.m. and there were surprisingly few stores open.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take anything, as long as I get you.”

“Please remember you just said that. I have witnesses, just in case.” He popped open the box and watched the play of emotions cross her face from eager anticipation to confusion to understanding. She burst out laughing and
took the metal ring-pull from the jewelry box he’d asked the hotel’s receptionist to scrounge up.

“It’s from a Fanta,” he explained. “The only store I could find was a 7/11.”

She shook so hard with laughter he had to take the tab from her. He tried to slide it onto her finger, but it wouldn’t go over her second knuckle. “Damn,” he murmured. “I think we can get it adjusted.”

She
laughed even harder and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him till he couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

“I love you, Mila.”

“I love you too, Ash. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making the right decision this time.”

He grinned and gave her a long, hard kiss that had the girls making gagging noises. Pulling back, he tucked a lock of Camila’s hair behind her
ear. “We’ll figure something out about the camp. I promise.”

Her face turned pained, but she gave him a jerky nod.

Cally cleared his throat behind them. “Uh, about that. I’ve got a little gift of my own. Camila, if you were happy with that ring-pull, I’m frightened about how you’ll react to this.” He held out an envelope.

She stood up and opened it, her mouth dropping open. “This…this…”

Ash stood behind her and moved her hand so he could see, then spun his head to stare in disbelief at his former protégé and captain. “A check for five hundred thousand dollars? Where the fuck—”

“When I found out why you were doing this, I started making some calls. Turns out there were fifty of our former opponents who thought it would be hysterical to see you lose. They all pledged that
money on the condition I couldn’t tell you about it so you wouldn’t throw any matches.”

As if he would.

Okay, maybe he would. But only for Camila.

“A few said they’d throw in an extra grand if your team lost every match. I’ll contact them tonight and make sure they wire the money. Camila, your camp is now essentially sponsored by Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Ireland, France,
and about a half dozen other countries.”

“I can’t believe this.” Ash shook his head in disbelief. He’d planned to phone friends and beg for money, but he never would’ve raised this much. It never occurred to him to ask the men he’d beaten throughout the years.

“Soooo,” Hannah said, “we saved the camp by sucking so bad?”

Liam grinned. “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh my God,
you’re so adorable when you smile,” Tori gushed. “Keep doing that.”

His grin faltered.

Camila gave Liam a hug before turning back to Ash, running her hand up the center of his chest and hooking it behind his neck.

“Ash?” She drew him down.

“Yeah?” he murmured, scant centimeters from her lips.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll wear your rugby
shorts even when it’s snowing outside.”

He wrapped his arms around her and started their life together by laughing his arse off.

Chapter Thirty-Two

One year later
Rio de Janeiro

Ash pulled on his charcoal-gray suit trousers and tucked his white dress shirt in. Yanking open the hotel suite’s chest of drawers, he rummaged through his pants and socks in search of his tie. “Do you know where my tie is? Oh, shite. I didn’t accidentally send it to the dry cleaners, did I? Mila?”

She groaned on the bed,
and he gave up his search to sit next to her. Laying his hand on her hip, he said, “Is it bad this morning?”

She groaned again in answer, and he squeezed her hip. “How about some bread? Crackers?”

“Crackers,” she creaked. He got them for her and helped her sit up. The motion made her sway and grow pale, and he was struck by guilt but not a bit of regret. For three months she’d been battling
morning sickness—which, he discovered, was a complete misnomer because it struck at all hours of the day. In the past week it had seemed to be easing up, but she still suffered from it when she was tired or hungry. Since neither of them had been able to sleep last night, both so excited about today, he figured she was hit with a double dose of it.

She ate her crackers slowly, leaning against
him as she fought to keep the nausea down.

“Was it this bad with Hannah?”

“No. Well, maybe. Only for the first two months. Not this long. I think that means it’s a boy.”

He drew back in surprise. “Why?”

“Mom said she puked all through her pregnancies with Wyatt and Austin. When she was pregnant with me and Gabriel, she only puked half her pregnancy. She thinks that’s because
I was in there. And I wasn’t too bad with Hannah. So I think this must be a boy.”

Pleasure swept through him, not because he wanted a boy over a girl but because speculating about their baby always made him or her seem more real. He lived for the appointments when he got to hear the baby’s heartbeat or see it bouncing around on a black-and-white screen. He’d missed out on so much with Hannah
and was beyond grateful he wasn’t missing a second of this child’s existence.

She took in a steadying breath, the color returning to her face as she won the battle. “Your tie’s in the second drawer down. Don’t know why, but I saw it there yesterday when I was putting our laundry away.”

He got off the bed and crossed to the chest, finding his tie and looping it around his neck. “You don’t
have to come today if you don’t want to.”

Please come.

She crawled gingerly off the bed and walked over to him. Moving his hands away from the tie, she worked on tying the knot. Ash said nothing, just smiled down at her as she made the wonkiest knot in the history of neckties. He would have to redo it before he got to the lobby, but he appreciated that she thought she could do this for
him.

She patted the knot and slipped her arms around his waist to look up at him. “Listen. Nothing’s keeping me away today. Absolutely nothing. I will be there early, and I will cheer so loudly you’ll be able to hear me from the field.”

“Pitch.”

“Field.” She smiled and raised up on her toes to kiss him. He held her softness against him, feeling her warmth and strength seep into
him and steady his nerves. When she pulled back, she said, “Go get ‘em, Legend.”

After a couple more kisses, he left the suite and went to the lift, unknotting his necktie and redoing it along the way. When he got to the lobby, reporters took pictures of his team, who were standing around waiting for him. They cheered when he arrived, and their nervous excitement made the air bristle with
anticipation. Hannah was the only one who didn’t cheer—she’d told him once it felt strange to cheer her dad, even if he was also her coach—but she grinned her familiar grin as he approached them.

“Sorry I’m late. Who’s ready to
kick some ass?
” he asked, changing his accent so he sounded American, and the women shouted again. “To the bus!”

He led them out of the hotel and onto the bus,
and they drove through the streets of Rio to the brand new stadium.

Just over a year ago, he’d retired with no clue how his life was about to be flipped upside down. When he’d proposed to Mila, he truly had thought he would end up doing whatever she needed around the camp, just so he could be with her. But at the medals ceremony of the San Diego Sevens, some suits had approached him. They
represented the U.S.A. national rugby sevens teams, and they’d wanted to find out more about Hannah. When they’d realized who he was, they told him about a different position they were recruiting for. He was now the proud head coach of the U.S.A. women’s team.

Even better, their training ground was in San Diego, only a couple hours from Lake Sunshine.

The commute hadn’t been easy, but
he’d managed to balance his career with his commitment to Mila. He’d also managed to marry her before getting her pregnant this time.

Over Christmas, he and Mila had taken Hannah to London to meet his parents. His dad had treated Mila like the queen, though it had taken Mila several days to drop her guard around him. But then one night he’d found them going through old family albums and noting
the similarities and differences between him and Hannah. After that, Mila had relaxed and even laughed at some of his terrible jokes.

When the bus pulled into the stadium car park, anticipation ramped up. He stepped out of the bus to a flurry of flashes from reporters’ cameras. Hannah passed by him and smacked him on the back. “Hey, Ashby?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be fair to say this
is better than the World Cup?”

He didn’t know what to say. All he could think about was how surreal the experience was compared to the days when he’d lifted any other trophy over his head.

As a player, he never had the opportunity to compete in the summer games. He’d also never had the support of a woman he loved, nor the heart-stopping pride of watching his daughter run around her opponents
in moves so like his own.

But today he had a shot at adding a gold medal to his trophy case. He would do it for Hannah and for Mila. He would do it for the team of passionate, talented, committed women who’d proved time and again how much they loved to play.

And he would do it for the U.S.A.

* * * * *