A Whole New Ball Game Read online

  ‘Do you want an autograph?’ I asked, smiling. The poor guy was probably too embarrassed to ask.

  His jaw dropped. ‘I … that would be awesome, Mr Benson. I know I live in the wrong state now, but I’ve been a Killers supporter since I was a little kid. You’re just the best fullback I’ve ever seen. I …’

  ‘Hardly.’ Sawyer’s voice was still gruff. I shot him a look—jerk—but was surprised to see an open smile on his face. ‘Did you want a selfie too?’

  ‘That would be awesome.’ The guy shook his head, inching closer. ‘Sawyer Benson. I can’t believe I’m meeting Sawyer Benson.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ Sawyer and the bellboy talked, Sawyer scribbling something on a piece of hotel stationery while the young man looked on in awe. I’d seen that side of him several times before, but it never failed to set something inside me off—a little twinge in my chest. He’s a good man. Sawyer Benson was a really good man.

  When the bellboy left the room, autograph tucked in his back pocket and a selfie saved as the wallpaper on his phone, I closed the door behind him, turning to Sawyer. ‘You’re so patient with him.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  I shrugged, thinking of James, the way he’d been single-minded in his desire to win. I hadn’t seen him since he started playing first grade, but Aubrey had mentioned once or twice that he found the constant attention from fans a real intrusion. ‘I guess because sometimes it can interrupt your personal life. It can mean you don’t have a part of you that’s just for you.’

  Sawyer shrugged, meeting my gaze. ‘I’ve been given a gift. A skill. And I’d be a fool not to appreciate it for what it is.’

  I nodded. Goosebumps prickled my skin. The way he looks at me …

  ‘And there is a part of me they can’t have. A part that’s just for me, and those I keep close.’

  I took a deep breath. I had to do it—ask the hard question. ‘About before …’ I cocked my head to the side. ‘You’re upset about Ava. Do you … do you still—’

  ‘What?’ He stood, walking closer.

  ‘Have feelings for her?’

  ‘God no. What made you think that?’

  ‘You were upset when I said she was in the penthouse just now. I thought—’

  ‘I thought you were upset I didn’t book you the penthouse.’ Sawyer came closer still, and I met him in the middle of the room, right at the foot of the bed. He stared down at me with an intensity that took my breath away. ‘I don’t give a damn about her, Zoe. All I care about is you.’

  His eyes darted to my lips. Kiss me.

  It would be all too easy. One kiss would lead to a second, to a third. We’d fall onto this beautiful bed and rid ourselves of our clothes, a tangled heap of bodies and want and need. He evoked so much feeling in me—had done so since the moment we met.

  But not all feeling was good.

  Especially when we were a ticking time bomb, set to explode.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’ I pushed lightly against his chest, stepping back to my bag. ‘Did you want to get something to eat?’

  ‘Sure.’ Sawyer’s voice gave away his confusion, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

  Because looking back would confirm that I wanted this man, wanted to take things further and break my own stupid rule.

  And I couldn’t do that.

  Not in this game.

  Not when I was playing to win.

  Chapter 21

  Sawyer

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Zoe walked alongside me, our pace brisk despite the warm Sydney air.

  ‘You’ll see.’ I linked her hand with mine, turning her off George Street and along a smaller alley to the restaurant. Glass lined the walls and opened up to large double doors. A line of ten people waited by the door. Mr Wong’s was popular like that.

  Zoe stopped, pointing. ‘Do you think we’ll get in?’

  ‘Zoe, I’m kind of a big deal. Of course we’ll get in.’ I puffed out my chest in false bravado.

  ‘You called and booked while I was in the shower, didn’t you?’

  ‘Ah, yeah. Sure did.’ I grinned, loving that she saw right through me and didn’t think I was the kind of guy who’d act that way.

  We gave our name to the maître d’ and were led from the quiet of the street to the hustle and bustle of our table, a small setting for two tucked next to an old brick column. Across from us, three more tables of two sat, women and men tucking into food that smelt like spice and garlic and the ocean, and waiters rushed past, plates and drinks balanced high. I’d only been here once before, but the food had been divine, and I couldn’t wait to share it with Zoe.

  ‘This place is …’ She shook her head, smiling as she made eye contact with a passing waiter. ‘Amazing. They must have tens of people working here.’

  ‘I’d say a hundred? Maybe more?’ We’d passed the glass-walled kitchen on the way to our table, and I’d seen more than ten men in there, flipping pancakes, tossing woks. That wasn’t including the floor staff, or the waiters behind the cocktail bars, shaking, stirring and pouring in a percussion all of their own.

  ‘Wow.’ Zoe nodded. ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘Once. When we played here last year, Bra—’ Damn it. I didn’t want her to think I was still hung up on the whole Ava thing.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Zoe leaned across the table, placed her hand over mine. When did I grip the napkin so tight? ‘I get it. And you can talk about him—about her—with me. That’s what I’m here for.’

  I shook my head. She was here because I’d hooked up a training session for her with the women trying out for the Sydney team. And to watch the game on Sunday, of course.

  And because I liked her.

  I liked her a lot more than I’d ever expected.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about her—or him.’ I raised my hand and linked our fingers together. ‘Why would I, when I’m here with you?’

  A sparkle lit her eyes. ‘Such a charmer, Sawyer Benson.’

  ‘I aim to please.’

  A waiter stopped by our table, gesturing to the unopened menus in front of us. ‘Have you had a chance to decide what you would like to eat?’

  ‘No, sorry. We’ll need another few minutes.’

  ‘A drink, perhaps?’

  ‘A water for me.’ I didn’t like to drink this close to a game—not one as important as this.

  ‘Same here, thanks.’ Zoe answered the man’s questioning gaze, and he bustled off, as full of life as all the other servers here.

  ‘Have a look at the menu.’ I placed it in front of her, gesturing to the first page of dishes. ‘As I’m sure you’ve realised, it’s Chinese, and it is the very best I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Are we ordering our own, or …?’

  ‘I thought we could share. But you pick the food—I’m happy to go with whatever you like.’ And I hope you like the pippies and XO sauce.

  ‘Huh.’ Zoe cocked her head to the side, studying me instead of the menu.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just last time I went out to dinner with a man, it was very different to this.’

  I glanced around. It wasn’t exactly a romantic spot, but the food was excellent, and I thought she’d enjoy it.

  ‘Good different,’ she said, reassuring my fears. ‘The guy ordered my food for me, even wine, when I said I didn’t want it.’

  ‘Really?’ I frowned. ‘Sounds like a creep.’

  ‘He was.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. Like I said, this is so much nicer already.’

  ‘Good.’ I leaned across the table and took her hand again. It fit. It fit with mine so perfectly. Hell, we fit. She liked kids. I liked kids. She liked football. I liked football. Spending time with her was easy in a way I hadn’t experienced, ever before. ‘Have you ever realised how we just fit?’

  She glanced up. Worry lined her brow. ‘What do you mean?’


  ‘Our hands,’ I rushed. What was I saying? ‘Our hands fit together perfectly.’

  ‘They do.’ She gave my hand a squeeze and went back to the menu.

  I wanted to tell her this was more for me—advice from my sister be damned. Kristy didn’t know how perfect Zoe was. Maybe when she met her, she’d understand that maybe there’d be a way Zoe and I could make this work. Extend the terms of our deal. Renew the contract.

  No.

  I couldn’t. We had an agreement in place, and that look on her face just now … that hadn’t said long-term. It had said concern. It had said regret.

  ‘Okay, I think I’ve decided on a few things.’ She scrunched up her nose as she looked at me over the top of the menu. ‘I hope you’re not allergic to seafood, because the pippies in XO sauce sounds unreal.’

  I relaxed into my seat. Things with Zoe really were easy.

  But that didn’t mean I had to try force the future when we’d committed to a game plan already.

  A game both of us needed to win.

  ***

  Dinner passed in a haze of intoxicating scents, tastes, and Zoe. It was easy—so easy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a good night, and on the weekend of such a huge game, no less.

  We caught a cab back to the hotel, and as we walked through the entrance, I spotted a couple of boys in the hotel bar.

  ‘Wanna come say hi?’ I asked.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that Leigh Higgins?’

  ‘Sure is.’ I nudged her side. ‘Close your mouth, babe. You’re makin’ me jealous.’

  ‘It’s just—he’s an amazing player. You know that, right?’ She glanced up at me. Her face morphed into something else—pain, shock—almost as if she’d bit down on her tongue. ‘I mean, I think he’s amazing because he plays centre, and I play centre. Not because I’m interested in him, or I think he’s good looking, or anything like—’

  ‘Hey.’ I tugged her close, her body flush up against mine. Her tits … Eyes up, Benson. ‘I know you didn’t mean you were gonna try leave me and jump him.’

  And I did.

  Even though Ava had left me for my ex, I found I didn’t have that worry with Zoe at all.

  Must be because you already have a relationship deadline.

  There was no point getting jealous when you wanted what you couldn’t have.

  ‘Good.’ Zoe nodded, resolute. She pressed onto her tiptoes and slid her lips over mine. I parted my mouth in response, welcoming the feel of her, so soft, so sweet. Her hands clutched at my jacket, pulling me closer, and damn it, the feel of her breasts pressed into my chest—heaven. It was pure, utter heaven.

  I gripped my hand in her long golden-brown hair, tugging it just the slightest bit and relishing in her moaned response. I wanted her. How were we going to share a room and not tear each other’s clothes off?

  She pulled back, a mischievous grin on her face, and I knew she felt the exact same way I did.

  ‘So can you introduce me already?’ she asked.

  Ha!

  Maybe not exactly.

  And so I led her over to the boys, introducing her to four of my mates who all seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. Not one of them mentioned Ava—lucky for them—and if any of them thought that my bringing Zoe along was very sudden, it wasn’t brought up.

  Maybe that was because she charmed them. She asked them about the game, mentioned her own interest in the sport, and when she said she was going to train with some hopeful members of the Sydney women’s team tomorrow, she even got a few impressed nods. Zoe spoke, and my mates listened, and I could tell they were hanging onto her every word.

  When she excused herself to head to our room, insisting I stay behind to hang out with the guys, Leigh pulled me aside under pretence of needing help at the bar.

  ‘What’s the …’ My voice trailed off as we rounded the corner to an isolated section of the room.

  Only one man stood there.

  Braden.

  I turned to Leigh. ‘Did you set me up?’

  ‘Just give him two minutes, Bennie.’ He clapped his hand on my shoulder, taking a few steps away. ‘I’m gonna be right here at the bar. Let him say his piece.’

  I turned to face Braden.

  He looked like shit. Purple bruised the space under his eyes, and his skin seemed pale, washed out, as if he’d faded in the sun.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Was he okay?

  ‘I … just some stuff.’ He waved one hand away, as if sweeping his personal problems under the rug. ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry again. Go into the game on Sunday with no hard feelings.’

  He reached for the glass of water at the bar, his hand shaking. Shaking.

  ‘Mate, tell me.’ I stepped closer, taking the glass from his trembling hand and placing it back on the counter. ‘What is it?’

  He looked up at me like a roo caught in the goddamn headlights. ‘Just the game. The big GF. I’m feelin’ it, y’know?’

  ‘Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be great. You always are.’ What had brought on this sudden bout of nerves?

  ‘I don’t know that I am. I just keep picturing it—the game comes down to one kick. Maybe it’s a penalty. Maybe I’m just taking a shot on the field. I run. I kick …’ He makes a motion with his hand as if envisaging the ball’s journey through the air. ‘At the last minute, it swings too far left and misses. We lose the game, and it’s all on me.’

  ‘That’s not gonna happen.’ I shook my head, turning back to the bar. Talking to him was this difficult mix of strange and familiar.

  ‘And I worry about us. I should have told you about Ava, man. I’m sorry.’

  I looked aside to him, nodding once. ‘You should have.’

  I stared at the bottles lining the bar’s back wall. From my peripheral, I saw Braden turn to walk away, that little-boy-lost expression still on his face.

  I’d seen it many times before, of course. In seventh grade, when the big kids pushed him around, teasing him for being so short.

  I’d put a stop to it.

  In year twelve, when we’d studied for our end-of-year exams and he just hadn’t been able to wrap his head around some math equation or other.

  I’d coached him through it.

  ‘Braden,’ I called.

  He stopped in his tracks, looked back. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘You’re not gonna screw it up. You’ll kill it this Sunday—we all will,’ I said. He nodded slowly, his expression not changing. ‘But the thing is, even if you do—it won’t matter. It might take a bit of time, but we’ll get over it. I promise.’

  His lips lifted into the thin hint of a smile. ‘Thanks, man.’

  ‘No worries.’ I waved him off.

  Seconds later, Leigh was back, a proud smile on his face. ‘Did you kids just kiss and make up?’

  ‘Hardly,’ I snorted. Maybe yes.

  ‘For what it’s worth, I’m glad. And I’m also really glad you’ve found someone else. That Zoe …’ He let loose a low whistle, and I tapped him on the chest.

  ‘Hey! Hands off.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of touching her, mate.’ He held up two fingers to the bartender, and he pulled out the bottle of orange juice from under the counter. ‘You know she’s a keeper.’

  A keeper.

  The one thing Zoe could never be for me.

  I looked at the man who’d been such a solid guide for our team these past few years. ‘I know,’ I muttered. Damn it. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’

  Chapter 22

  Zoe

  I laced up my boots, glancing across the field at the other women. Some jogged on the spot; others stretched, long tanned arms over long tanned legs, and I glanced down at my own lily-white pegs. Melbourne weather didn’t allow for a September tan—but my skin didn’t allow for one all-year round.

  Luckily, no one seemed to be looking at that. Here, everyone seemed focused on one thing and one thing only—preparing for the game.

  ‘Okay, ladies. Ga
ther round.’ A man in a dark T-shirt yelled, and as one, the twenty-four of us jogged over to listen.

  As he gave us instructions on the game that was to follow, my mind wandered. The woman next to me, so tall, with legs that stretched on forever—she’d be tough to outrun. The lady in front of me was built, her shoulders broad with muscle, and I knew her body would pack a punch. The girl on my left had this serious expression on her face, focused as she stared at the instructor, a ferocity in her eyes I never saw during my Tuesday-night muck-around game.

  None of them were anomalies. All around me were women who looked as if this was much more than a game. They had that same fierce hunger in their eyes I’d seen James’s eyes so many years ago.

  Did I have that? Did I have what it took?

  It doesn’t matter. You’re not trying out. This is something you’re doing to get your name out there for the future.

  That was what I wanted. To go overseas, to finally do the work I’d always planned.

  Wasn’t it?

  I glanced over to the sidelines. Sawyer gave a small smile, his face hidden low under a baseball cap. Two nearby women whispered furtively before glancing in this direction. I don’t think your disguise is working, babe.

  The instructor split us into two teams and we huddled together, talking strategy for a few minutes before we were due to start. The tall woman I’d stood next to earlier took the lead.

  ‘My name’s Julie. I’m a forward. What are you?’ She turned to the woman next to her.

  ‘Chrissie, and I play back,’ she replied, turning to the next person in the circle.

  One by one, we went around the group until the question landed on me.

  ‘Zoe. I play centre,’ I muttered. Was I good enough for such a big position with these women?

  Then again, every position was big. This was a team sport—there wasn’t room for slacking off.

  Quickly, we talked strategy, but since we were all new to playing with each other, and with the other team, for that matter, the concept was just to go hard, go fast, and not give up. We broke our huddle with our hands in the centre and jogged onto the field just as the instructor blew his whistle, asking each team’s captain to come forward for the toss.