Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance (6 page)

More than the way her body looked, though, was the way her
face
looked. The way it lit up when Shauna scored her first try during our first mock game, the way she beamed enthusiasm back at Theo when he smiled.

Yeah, I was getting something out of this. A hell of a lot.

I’d been elated after our first day of practice, celebrating in the nearest thing to a pub I could find. The beer hadn’t been great, but I’d had worse. By the time I got back to the hotel, I was a little tipsy. Didn’t stop me from enjoying another of the gifts she’d given me, though.

The abso-fucking-lutely incredulous stare of disbelief when she realized I was actually good at this. Of course, she’d had no idea about my previous experience. No idea that this wasn’t my first rodeo. No idea I’d gone to the center myself, no idea that I’d coached people in the same position many times before.

Not that I’d had much choice, at least originally. My coach back in England had insisted on it. According to him, it didn’t matter how old I was physically, mentally I was still just a shit-headed teen and maybe being around a bunch of other shit-headed teens would bring me to my senses.

Of course, he’d been right about everything. All that responsibility in my hands had made me finally grow up, and now I was a half-decent coach myself. Working so closely with Emilia was going to be a little awkward, but dammit, these next couple of months were going to be
fun
.

Finally arriving at Adam’s office, I saw that he and Emilia were already hard at work.

“What’s up?” I said as I walked in and put the muffins on Adam’s desk. Emilia’s eyes shot down to her coffee, staring at it for a few moments before taking a long swig.

“Simon! Wow, are you going to make this a habit?” Adam’s eyes sparkled when he saw what I’d brought.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, I’m not sure my doctor will approve,” he winked back, taking one of the chipped mugs from his windowsill and filling it with coffee for me.

“Thanks Adam,” I said, noting Emilia’s continued silence as I grabbed a chair and sat down.

“So,” Adam began. “Emilia and I were discussing long-term strategy for this summer, and she had a brilliant idea. Care to explain it, Em?”

“Sure,” Emilia said, her frozen features melting as a smile began to creep across her face. It grew and grew, making me shift in my seat a little. I’d never seen her this happy.

She was beautiful like this.

“Starting today,” she continued as her eyes locked onto mine, predatory and cold. “You’ll be teaching the girls’ team, and I’ll take care of the boys. You’ll be on the east side of the field, across from Johnnie’s, and I’ll take the area closer to the police station.”

I almost snorted coffee at the news. Her smile continued to shine at me like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.

Maybe it had been a mistake to show my hand so fast. By managing the situation so well yesterday in spite of her efforts, I’d ensured she would push back hard today.

Of course
she was going to make another move in our little game, and once again, she was threatening to win big by surprising me like this.

She’d put me in charge of the girls’ team.

I felt glued to my seat, trying to calmly digest the news as quickly as possible.

Right.

Holy hell.

The guys, sure. Violence, brutality, repressed anger. I could handle all that. It was the story of my life. I’d been there myself when I was young, and after that, I’d coached a bunch of boys everyone else had given up on. Shaped them up. Helped turn them around.

I’d been planning on doing the same thing here, before my lovely stepsister had pulled the rug out from beneath me.

“How many of them?” I asked, trying my best to hide the strain in my voice as I scrambled to come up with some semblance of a plan.

“Twenty. All older teens. They’re real sweeties, you’ll see,” Emilia said lightly.

“I’m not sure ‘sweeties’ is the word I’d use to describe them,” Adam interjected with a raised eyebrow. “But Em told me about the fantastic job you did yesterday, particularly with Shauna. I think they could all use a
good
male role model for a change, and it makes sense for a man of your obvious talent to deal with the more difficult team.”

The more difficult team
, I echoed silently, fixing my eyes on Emilia. The smugness on her face spoke volumes, like she was barely refraining from making some acerbic remark at my expense.

Well, fair enough, I was thinking a few of them myself. I’d been anything but a good male role model for her, after all.

I heard giggling from the hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shauna’s orange mohawk peeking into the room just before she poked her head through the open door.

“Hey,
Coach
,” she said, snickering. “Theo said you brought muffins?”

“I sure did! Take as many as you want,” I said, locking my eyes with Emilia’s and smirking a little myself. She might’ve ambushed me, but at least I’d brought plenty of freshly-baked bribes.

An instant later, six young women invaded Adam’s small office, poring over the muffins and grabbing different flavors without a glance in my direction. Two minutes later they were gone with barely a mumbled “thanks,” and Emilia’s wicked smile turned undeniably mocking as I examined the carnage.

All the blueberry and chocolate chips were totally gone, replaced by a mountain of crumbs over Adam’s desk. The banana muffins were untouched, dispelling my dreams of people appreciating tropical baked goods.

Noted
.

I stood up slowly, staring at Emilia as she grabbed a roll of paper towels and handed them to me with a smirk. Before I could think of a suitably witty remark, she was gone.

“So, uh,” Adam said sheepishly. “Like I said, I’m not sure
sweeties
is the word I’d have used to describe your team.”

“Apparently not,” I quipped, wiping his desk clean with an apologetic smile.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering if I’d need it. The truth was, I had never worked with girls, and I certainly had my work cut out for me. Even so, I knew that I’d get a handle on the situation sooner or later. The team I could deal with.

What I wasn’t sure about, however, was how to handle the one-woman army that my sweet little stepsister had become.

Leaving Adam’s office, I headed straight for the gym and called for my team the same way Emilia had called for hers. After a couple of minutes, no one had come along, so I called again.

Nothing.

Sighing, I turned to walk down the long, winding corridors in search of my
sweeties
.

After trying a few doors, I found most of them loitering in the so-called computer lab, which seemed like a generous name for a room with little more than three bulky PCs and a couple ancient dot matrix printers, complete with stacks of paper that had holes lining the sides. A few girls huddled together in the corner, reading a magazine, while the rest were crowded around one of the computers.

“Hey Coach,” Shauna greeted me again, this time with markedly less sarcasm in her voice. Her smile seemed sincere, though she was the only one in the room to acknowledge my presence.

“What is everyone doing?” I asked, and a wave of giggles echoed through the room.

Oh boy
.

One of the older girls in the corner, who looked to be perhaps in her early twenties, rolled her eyes and snorted.

“They’re all drooling over JBJB’s Twitter account, clucking about what he did, who he did it with, and where they did it,” she said, stretching back across an old couch, her feet propped on the coffee table. “Like anyone still cares,” she muttered with another eye roll.

“No we’re not, Jessa! Whatever,” one of the younger girls at the computer spat back, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“Huh. Isn’t he British, too? Something like that?” I asked, feigning ignorance. The truth was, I knew full well that the latest hip-hop lothario heartthrob was English.

From Hackney, actually.

I’d met him a few times.

We partied in the same circles. He seemed nice enough, surprisingly grounded despite his success. He certainly had his act together better than I ever did at his age. We weren’t exactly close friends, but that had never stopped us from the occasional pub crawl together.

“Ohmygosh, he is! Do you know him?” one of the girls squealed excitedly, and I knew my time had come.

“Actually, yeah. He’s quite fun to hang out with,” I said, biting my lip as I confirmed to them a ‘fact’ that many Americans seemed to be born knowing.

All Europeans know each other
.

I wasn’t exactly proud of myself, and the moment of silence that followed felt downright awkward as every face turned straight towards me. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, and I had just enough time to second-guess myself before pandemonium erupted.

Screams, questions, total chaos. Jessa launched to her feet and beelined straight towards me, apparently deciding that maybe JBJB wasn’t so played-out after all. I nodded and smiled, doing my best to keep up with the tide of shouting that followed.

I needed to remember that this was war. If Emilia could fight dirty, so could I.

Once the din had calmed enough that they could hear me, I answered in quick succession. Yes, I knew him. Yes, he was a sweetheart. Yes, his music was indeed quite innovative. No, I had no idea if anything the tabloids claimed about his secret marriage were true.
 

“How about we hit the field and practice for a couple of hours, and after that, we can see about contacting him through my agent?” I suggested, rattling the heavy bag of rugby equipment I’d brought with me on my search.

Perhaps, between JBJB and some creative drills, we could make rugby palatable.

Maybe even fun.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Shauna muttered as the younger girls were jumping around the room enthusiastically.

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best move I could’ve made.

Maybe it was the
banana bread muffin
of motivational techniques.

But right now, it was the only strategy I had, and it seemed to be working.

Maybe this was going to go well after all, who knew?

After all, stranger things have happened.

Coaching at the summer camp has gone really well. I’m actually really proud of those kids, they’re doing great.

I’ve learned a lot, too.

Next year is going to be brilliant.

The boys and I had been on the field for a little under an hour, slowly easing into practice and trying to make sense of rugby. I was having a good, and decidedly Simon-free, time when I saw him emerge on the slope in front of Johnnie’s, a cluster of girls following behind.

Shauna and Jessa carried heavy sports bags, while Ellen and Domenica toted plastic goals. The rest of his cohort bounced around with more enthusiasm than I’d ever seen, and even in the distance I could make out their smiles.

I struggled to stay focused on my side of the field, but after a few minutes, I couldn’t help but stare. The group had set out for a slow jog around the park, following closely behind Simon.

All the girls were running.