Pippa's Fantasy (5 page)

Cassie was understanding and supportive, as usual. Pippa knew she was lucky to have such a good friend.

After many coffees and rounds of toast smothered in Vegemite, a few more bouts of tears and outpourings of grief, Pippa was starting to feel slightly better. She had a lot to be happy about—the night with Rook and the memory of it had been everything she had dreamed of since she was fifteen, and more. She should focus on those memories. Then, all she would have to do was act strong as she faced up to him at the Jets’ training session tomorrow, all without becoming a blubbering basket case.
No worries!

Her first session as her father’s beloved Jets team’s new physiotherapist and injury recovery specialist could, in fact, be her last. Pippa only hoped Rook didn’t tell her new boss—his ex-teammate and now coach, Brodie James—what she had done. Technically, Pippa tried to convince herself, she had not been part of the team last night, so the team rules had not applied to her, and wouldn’t until contracts were signed tomorrow.

“Hope Coach James is not too pedantic about his rules,” Pippa whispered to the room with a long sigh.

* * * *

Rook would be glad when the season began. He hated all the pre-season training, especially the sand hills. Running up and down the soft sand hills at Kurnell made his legs quiver with exhaustion. The pain from muscles grown soft over the off season, as they were worked back into shape ready for the brutal aspects of the total-body contact sport that was rugby league, was not pleasurable.

The pre-season training seemed to get harder each year. Probably as Rook got older—or that was what his once idol, teammate and now coach liked to joke. Rook had been a cheeky know-it-all teen when he first met Brodie James. Brodie had been captain of the Sydney Jets and the Australian team. One of the best forwards in the game, he had been partnered in the front row with the fiercest, toughest prop forward ever—Jonathon ‘JT’ Thomson. Cap and JT had helped Rook become the man he was.

Brodie had been the strongest male mentor in Rook’s life. Rook had often wondered how his life would have been if he’d had a father of Brodie James’ calibre—not that his mother hadn’t given him everything. She had, at personal cost to herself. But still, Rook often just speculated on what it would have been like to have a male around the house. Someone to teach him stuff that only men knew, someone who would have taken some of the burden off his mother as she’d raised him. Brodie James would not have let her work so hard. Rook was sure of that. Then again, Rook had sorted out that problem, invested in his mother’s cleaning company, so she didn’t have to do the menial tasks anymore. 

Coach had called a team meeting before today’s training run, to meet the rest of this year’s coaching and medical team. Rumour had it JT was going to take up a role as assistant coach, and one of the younger players had overheard Coach James talking about someone called Rodgers joining the staff. Dave Rodgers had been Rook’s coach way back in that first premiership-winning season, and Rook was interested to see if that was the person Brodie had been overheard speaking about.   

Enjoying the banter around the meeting room, listening to the young, up-and-coming players regaling stories of recent conquests or the older players marvelling at the latest technologies used in the modern games to enhance performance, Rook didn’t notice the training staff enter. But hearing his coach calling out for everyone’s attention, Rook, as the newly appointed captain, also tried to hush the rowdy group of men.

“C’mon, fellas, settle down. You can gossip about your recent sexual exploits later. Coach wants your attention.”

After a few hoots and hollers from his teammates, the room quieted down and everyone’s attention focused on Brodie. Rook took in the faces of the staff standing behind his coach, most familiar from last year. There was the conditioning coach, Bob, the sprint coach, Flash—who was another former player—and as rumoured, taking up an enormous amount of space, stood JT.

JT’s position as a specialised coach for the forward pack and assistant coach to Brodie was not surprising to Rook, not with JT’s pedigree. It was the last—but certainly not least—member of the Jets staff that left Rook absolutely shell-shocked. He recognised her straight away. Unbelievably, it was his princess from the other night.

He was still coming to grips with that discovery when it only got worse for Rook. He all but swallowed his tongue while he listened to his coach, Brodie James, introduce her.

“Some of you may remember this young lady. She certainly has been around the Jets for a long time. I’d like to introduce you all to our new physiotherapist in charge of injury prevention and recovery, specialising in some new and innovative areas in this field that will be invaluable to our team’s success. Miss Phillipa Rodgers or Pippa, as she likes to be called these days, is the daughter of my good friend and mentor, the Jets’ previous premiership-winning coach, Dave Rodgers. I’d like you all to welcome her aboard.”

As the mumbling sounds of approval filled the room, Rook could not tear his eyes away from the woman standing in front of him. The woman Brodie was introducing. Everyone else was clapping and enthusiastically welcoming the staff and coaches, but Rook was too shocked to move. He couldn’t seem to fathom all the information that was whirling through his brain. Her name wasn’t Cassandra. It was Pipsqueak Rodgers. Phillipa Rodgers. Pippa.

“What the fuck is going on?” The words came from Rook’s mouth a little louder than he had hoped. A few people looked over in his direction, startled by his outburst. One of them was JT.

“Hey, Rook, what was that? Did you say somethin’?” JT said as he headed Rook’s way. “You okay, buddy? You’re looking a bit pale. Not coming down with that bloody flu that’s doing the rounds, are you? Mandy insisted I invite you over for a bit of a get-together on Wednesday. She and the kids will be disappointed if you’re too sick to come,” JT continued without really giving Rook a chance to answer. “Elaina is such a beauty and little Jay is starting to really enjoy kicking a footy around. Caitlin reckons Riley will be home from uni as well. So, are you in? Food is on about noon.”

Rook was in such a state of shock, he didn’t think he would be able to speak. He had really fucked up. Sleeping with Pipsqueak could cost him his career. She knew that. What sort of game was she playing with him? He couldn’t quell the waves of anger that started to swell inside him. He needed to get away—from her, the room, everyone—and think.

“Hey, Rook, you gonna answer me, mate?” JT asked, confusion and concern now showing openly on his face at Rook’s inability to speak.

“Yeah, JT. Tell Mandy I’ll be there at noon. Wednesday… Right. Gotta go. Tell Brodie I’ll catch him later,” Rook managed to rasp out to JT before turning and escaping from the room.

Chapter Seven

Pippa had been antsy all morning, waiting for this moment—the moment Rook realised her deception. Meeting Brodie James and the rest of the staff had been a bittersweet moment. Pippa had finally achieved her goals and become a part of the team that had meant so much to her as she was growing up. It had been so much a part of her father. Now she was employed and would be working next to such great ex-players as JT, Flash and Brodie. Pippa couldn’t help but wonder, though, if it was to be a very short career. Would Rook tell Brodie about their tryst, or would he keep mum? Would he refuse to work with her? It would not be a good start to her career to have the captain against her appointment. 

Expecting the worst—maybe anger or confusion—Pippa was shocked at the look of hurt that appeared in Rook’s eyes. Those dazzling silver eyes that had been so full of hunger and passion the other night were now just staring at her, boring a hole straight through her heart and soul. Pippa did not hear Brodie’s total endorsement of her. She missed seeing the looks of acceptance and approval of her pedigree and training that came from the other Jets players. All Pippa could focus on was the look of betrayal on Rook’s face. 

Pull yourself together!
Finally, the mantra she had been repeating over and over in her head started to sink in. Pippa tore her gaze away from Rook and listened to the conversations taking place around her.

“Yes, Pippa is going to be an asset to the club. The work she has been doing to enable a speedier rehabilitation of injury, utilising some of the latest techniques, will be of great value to us. Quick recovery and the ability to get our best players back on the field are crucial in today’s game. Isn’t that right, Pippa?”

Luckily, Pippa heard Brodie’s words and was able to answer him coherently.

If there was one thing Pippa knew, it was her job. Letting her brain take control over her cold, stony, broken heart, Pippa met and answered questions from the interested group surrounding her. She couldn’t see Rook anyway now, and didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad one.

The longer he stays away from me the better. It will give him a chance to get over his anger and maybe we will be able to work together
, she thought, trying to find a positive angle in the face of such an impending disaster.

It was a good feeling, though, to be so easily accepted by the group of male athletes who could have reacted indifferently or been wary of the fact she was a woman. League had done a lot of growing up in the last decade—women were now treated with respect, their knowledge of the game accepted by most. Pippa was finding out firsthand that her views and speciality were going to be appreciated. It made her feel even worse, guiltier, that she had blatantly broken one of the cardinal rules by having a sexual encounter with one of her fellow Jets team members.
Maybe I should tell Brodie,
she thought miserably,
before this all gets too far along.

“Well, I think that went well, don’t you?”

Pippa’s remorseful thoughts were interrupted by her new boss’ question, and she gave him her full attention as he continued speaking.

“When JT and I were discussing your appointment, he was joking about when you were just a kid. All the time you spent hanging around, waiting for your dad. He also reminded me about the almighty crush you, and every other young girl, had on Rook. Do you remember?” Brodie seemed amused at the reminiscing.

Pippa froze, trying to ascertain whether Brodie was fishing or just innocently reflecting. In a voice calmer than she had anticipated, Pippa answered, “You mean back when I used to be so jealous that you took Riley into the sheds with you, but Dad would never let me in? Must have been my subconscious wanting to win one over on Dad, ’cause here I am, finally in those sheds after all.” She gave a half-hearted laugh, trying to deflect the fact she hadn’t mentioned her crush.

“You sure have, Pippa, but between you and me, your dad’s as proud as punch that the Rodgers name is back linked to the Jets again. So am I. Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Oh, yeah, JT and Mandy are having a get-together on Wednesday and you’re not only invited, but
expected
to be there. Okay?”

The conversation was obviously finished. Before Pippa could reply, Brodie’s attention was called elsewhere. Left with her own thoughts, Pippa decided that she would just leave well enough alone—she really did want this job, and just hoped Rook would get over her little charade. After all, she had survived his rejection before.

Chapter Eight

Rook was still shaking when he got home. He threw his keys at the wall as he entered his apartment, in a futile attempt to dissipate some of the anger that was overwhelming him. Even though it was still early afternoon, Rook grabbed a beer from the fridge, cracked the top, and took a long pull of the bitter-tasting amber liquid. He didn’t usually drink during the week, and never when the sun was still up.

“But desperate times call for desperate measures. Cheers to you, Rook!” he said to himself as he tipped the bottle up again, draining the remaining fluid. He grabbed another bottle, opening it and flicking the lid at the closed waste bin before heading over to flop down on a black leather chair, still trying to work it all out in his head.

“Is this some sort of ploy to get back at me for knocking her back five years ago?” he wondered aloud. “That’s why she seemed so familiar, that electric feeling… Yep, it was always her.” Rook remembered how hard it had been to push those hands away from his body all those years ago.

“What choice did I have?” he groaned. He had been told by both Coach Rodgers and his then assistant, Brodie James, that Pipsqueak was totally off limits to him. They had threatened him, saying his contract would be ripped up if he took advantage of her attraction to him, calling it just a crush! A young girl’s fantasy!

No one had ever asked him what his feelings were towards the attractive, fun-loving girl.

“No, that’s right. Bloody footy player not good enough for the coach’s daughter,” Rook grumbled, his anger not diminishing any as he recalled the night she had attempted to seduce him.

Pipsqueak—he’d never liked that nickname. It belittled her. Rook had never understood how others had not seen that she’d hated the title. She had been Phillipa to him, at least in his mind, and he had thought of her often, but she had been far too young for him. She had probably been just shy of eighteen the night she had followed him outside.

Rook had been at a party for the team thrown by the coach, her father. He had spent the night watching Phillipa, watching the dutiful daughter as she’d helped her mother play host to the rowdy group of burly men. She had carried trays of food back and forth and refilled drink glasses, all the while laughing and smiling at Rook’s fellow teammates. He had been screaming inside, not wanting her to look that way at anyone else but him. Annoyed that she had intentionally not come near him at all.

Rook had wondered if maybe she had lost interest in him, her ‘crush’, as Brodie had called it, just a childish memory for her. She was, in Rook’s eyes, certainly not a child anymore. He had gone outside into the backyard to get some fresh air, to get away from her smiling face—smiling at everyone but him.