Chapter Fourteen
“Ryder…Jesus. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Can we stop now?”
“Another go around won’t hurt us.”
Bodie pulled up short, bending over double. “For fuck’s sake, man.” He gasped and wheezed for a bit, trying to catch his breath. “Go to the fucking airport already and get her back.”
Ryder stopped, too, also breathing hard, a stitch niggling behind his ribs. They were both used to physical exertion, but Ryder had been pushing himself relentlessly, sweat pouring off him in salty rivulets. “She doesn’t want me back.”
It still hurt like fuck to remember it.
“Well go get laid or something. Training finished two hours ago, in case you didn’t notice.”
Ryder didn’t even bother giving Spidey’s suggestion any oxygen. The thought of being with another woman was depressing as hell.
Great. He was never going to have sex again.
Ryder looked around him. He hadn’t left Henley when training was done. He’d needed something to occupy himself today, knowing Juliet was leaving. And fitness could always be worked on.
Annoyingly, Bodie had decided—or had been nominated—to stay with him. Apparently the guys were all worried about him owing to his bad-temper and shitty form in the last two games. It would have been sweet—had they all been teenage fucking girls. What next? Painting his nails and braiding his hair.
Having a spa day?
“You’re free to leave whenever the fuck you want, Spidey.”
Ryder turned his eyes skyward again. He’d been tracking any planes he saw, knowing Juliet’s would be up there soon enough and she’d really be out of his life.
Still panting, Bodie lowered himself to the ground. “And pass up the opportunity to experience kidney failure firsthand?” He coughed then squeezed water from his bottle all over his head before sprawling on his back in the grass, knees bent. “I never took you for a quitter, Ryder.”
“Says the guy whose ass is on the ground.” Ryder sat as well, also squirting water over his head and face.
“Seriously, dude. This girl’s got you by the balls. You’re drinking too much, you’re biting everybody’s heads off, and you’re playing crap footy. You gotta get your head on straight.”
Ryder would dearly love to be able to refute what Bodie was saying, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was walking around with a gaping abdominal wound, all his insides exposed to the elements.
He had to put Juliet behind him. God knew she’d put him behind her with remarkable ease. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About what they could have been. He couldn’t stop thinking about blowing his career off and buying a one-way ticket to Italy.
And that pissed him off even more. This team was like family to him and she didn’t love him. She really had been just using him for sex.
Ryder plucked a spear of grass and threw it as far as he could. “You don’t understand.”
Bodie curled up into a sitting position with the ease of a guy who did hundreds of sit-ups a week. “Are you shitting me?” His glare burned like hot pokers. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to love someone and have them walk away? Is your head seriously that far up your own ass?”
Ryder shut his eyes. Christ almighty. He’d forgotten how hard Spidey had been hit when his relationship had fizzled.
“Crap. I’m sorry.” He shoved a hand through sweaty hair. “My head currently is that far up my ass.”
“Well pull it out for god’s sake and do something.”
“I am doing something,” Ryder snapped. “Ever heard of ‘if you love something set it free?’”
Bodie’s hilarious laughter rang around the pitch and echoed off the empty stadium seats. “Did you get a packet of tampons with that advice?”
Ryder shook his head. “You’re an asshole,” he muttered as Bodie fell over clutching his stomach, still laughing. “So what’s your suggestion, dipshit?” he demanded after Bodie finally pulled himself together. Not that he was sure he should be taking advice from a guy who hadn’t managed to keep the woman he’d loved, either.
Bodie sat up again, brushing off the grass sticking to the sweat on his arms. “Go to the airport.” He looked at his watch. It was two o’clock. “You still have time.”
“She’ll think I’m trying to manipulate her.”
“So don’t. Go with no agenda. Just go to see her off, as a friend. As someone who wants her to be happy. Go and see her one last time, kiss her good-bye. Go for closure, man, if nothing else.”
Ryder shook his head. Bodie made it sound so simple. Seeing her one last time, kissing her one last time.
But could he see her and not beg her to stay?
“I don’t know…” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. “Maybe it’s best to just leave it as it is.”
“The last time you saw her? You’d argued, right?” Ryder nodded. “You ever heard of not going to bed angry? You want that to be her last memory of you? You want it to be what she thinks about when she thinks of you? I mean hell, dude, what if the plane crashes? You want her last ever memory of you being an argument?”
“Jesus Christ, Spidey.” The mere thought of something catastrophic happening pushed Ryder to his feet. “Don’t even fucking say that.”
Rage rolled through his gut, bringing with it the overwhelming urge to smash Bodie for putting such an awful thought in his head.
Christ. What if the plane crashed?
Jesus. Adrenaline, hot and urgent, charged through his veins. Bodie was right. He had to see her. He had to put it right. For her. And for him.
He needed closure. They both did.
Ryder made a phone call to Eve in the car as he careened toward the airport. “Who do we know at the international airport who could get me through to a departure gate without a ticket or a passport?”
This really wasn’t part of her job description, but after years as Griffin King’s PA she knew stuff. And people. Eve, as unflappable as ever, didn’t ask any questions as to why Ryder needed what he needed, just took the flight number and told him she’d get back to him.
Ten minutes later she was confirming where he could park and who would meet him there. “I owe you one, Eve.”
She snorted in a very unladylike manner. “You owe me more than one, cowboy.” And she hung up in his ear.
Ryder drove with one eye on the clock and one on the road, his heart belting along, his fingers drumming, yelling at the traffic. It was two thirty when he screeched to a halt and a middle-aged guy wearing a high-vis vest and looking like a baggage handler shook his hand.
“The flight hasn’t left?”
“No, it’s on final boarding.”
Ryder knew as he was quickly ushered through areas of the airport he’d not seen before that he’d be cutting it fine. His pulse raced and his lungs almost burst as he navigated a rabbit’s warren of corridors and back areas, knowing how close they were cutting it.
Please. Please, let me be on time.
They got to the gate to find the departure lounge deserted and the plane already pushed away from the terminal.
“No!” He rushed to the big windows, absently noticing himself staring back from a rugby advertisement on the nearby wall. He banged on the glass in frustration, a hot surge of anger burning like acid through his veins.
Fuck! He’d missed her.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way you can call it back?” Ryder asked, knowing the answer before the guy shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Davis, but no.”
Ryder nodded, slumping onto the seat behind him, watching the plane as it taxied to the runway, taking his heart with it.
He was in a foul mood when he finally got back to his apartment at three thirty. He’d left a message on Juliet’s voicemail, wishing her luck and telling her he was sorry for the way he left it and he wanted her to be happy.
But it didn’t feel adequate and all Ryder wanted to do was kick something. He feared for his apartment door once he finally shut it behind him. He didn’t get a chance to even open the door, however.
A wicker basket blocked his entry. A wicker basket containing the most pathetic, ancient, ugliest ball of fluff he’d ever seen in his life. A long-haired Chihuahua with a greyed muzzle growled as he approached. It had a bung eye and a snaggletooth protruding down over its bottom lip.
If the pink bow around its neck was an attempt to add some cute, it failed.
Ryder shoved his hands in his pocket and glared down at the dog. “What the hell?”
He reached in and scooped it up, the animal trembling in his hands despite snarling as if it was a fucking pit bull.
“I’m going to kill Valerie,” he told her—it was a girl—before putting the dog on the floor. It trembled and promptly peed all over the art deco parquetry.
There was a note. This ought to be good. Val trying to justify why she was foisting another poor excuse for a dog on him.
But it wasn’t from Val. It was from Juliet. His heart almost stopped as he recognised the handwriting on the envelope and his hand shook as he ripped it open.
Dear Ryder,
This dog was dropped off at the shelter yesterday. Her name is Mona. She’s almost blind, can’t walk further than ten metres without collapsing, has diabetes, significant food allergies, a weak bladder, a cranky disposition, and an undiagnosed anxiety condition which makes her scared of her own shadow. I rescued her from death row because…well, just look at those eyes!
Ryder glanced at Mona’s rheumy eyes. She trembled, growled low in her throat, and a little more wee puddled onto the floor.
She doesn’t like sand dunes, the feel of the ocean, or the taste of champagne. She’ll probably die of pneumonia if she gets caught in the rain. But she desperately needs someone to love her and Valerie was right, you do need a dog.
Ryder flicked the dog another glance. Mona was not a dog. Mona was a bag of fluff and bones held together by a bad attitude and one snaggletooth.
He didn’t need a dog. He needed Juliet.
She’d seriously gone to Italy and left him with a dog who was a minute away from a nervous breakdown? If this was supposed to make him feel better then she was badly mistaken.
If you need a hand with her care and attention I know someone at the shelter who can help. She was going to Italy but realised she’d left something behind.
Ryder’s heart did stop. What? Juliet was here? In Coogee? She hadn’t left? His pulse kicked in, racing madly, the news slugging his system like a hit of speed.
She’s no exorcist, but she’s a bit of a legend with eccentric dogs. Be warned, you may have to spend a lot of time with this wonder woman because Mona and her ’tude are going to need a lot of work. I would recommend a live-in position.
Love, Juliet.
Love. Love, Juliet. Did that mean love love? Or just an affectionate way to end a correspondence?
Ryder’s brain scrambled as he sought clarity. Juliet was here. She hadn’t left. She’d given him a dog—of sorts—and she’d signed off Love, Juliet.
What the fuck did it all mean?
The mad double thump in his pulse told him it was good. Surely only one thing would keep her from Italy?
He grinned and whooped then reached down and swept Mona up. She was too startled to growl or pee as he pressed a kiss to her snout. Mrs. Henderson’s door opened and she stepped out into the corridor. “Everything okay, dear?”
Ryder grinned at her too. “Yes, Mrs. Henderson. Everything is very okay.”
And he kissed her for good measure.
He raced for the lift, a bewildered Mona tucked under his arm. It was quarter to four. The shelter closed at five and he hoped like hell that’s where he’d find her.
Ryder made one stop and one phone call on his way and still made it to the shelter by four thirty.
…
Juliet’s breath seized in her lungs when Ryder entered the shelter almost identically to the way he’d entered it eight weeks ago—with a flurry and a bit of a skid.
He was in his training gear, Mona’s pink bow peeking out over the top of his bicep, and he was grinning like a loon. Her heart flipped in her chest.
She loved him so damn much it hurt.
Margie stood, her chair scraping loud in the sudden silence. She nodded to Ryder and said, “I’ll just be out the back.”
Juliet cleared her throat and affected an air of polite professionalism. “May I help you, sir?”
His eyes narrowed a little but she could see the gleam in them from metres away. “Somebody,” he said, prowling closer, “left this electrocuted rat on my doorstep with a note.”
She clucked disapprovingly, biting her cheek to suppress the smile and the sheer and utter joy of seeing him. “Oh now,” she cooed at Mona, “how could anyone call such a sweet face names?”
He reached the counter and placed Mona down. She promptly peed. It wasn’t much more than a teaspoon but he didn’t seem to care as he took the paper towel she handed him and covered the puddle.
“The note said there was someone here who could help with eccentric dogs, is that right?”
Juliet’s pulse fluttered madly. “That would be me.”
“And was the Love, Juliet just a friendly way of saying yours sincerely, or did it mean something more along the lines of this Juliet person wanting to have lots of sex and babies with me?”
Her stomach clenched at the thought of it—sex, babies, love. Her pulse echoed around her rib cage. “That depends on whether you’re interested in the live-in position or not.”
“Oh I’m interested. Very interested.”
He grinned then and Juliet felt all the weight and indecision of the last couple of hours and the denial of the last two weeks lifting from her shoulders.
His hand crept across the counter toward hers. Mona growled, but he ignored her as his hand slid over Juliet’s forearm. It had been two long weeks since Ryder had touched her and Juliet’s skin flowered beneath his caress.
“You didn’t go to Italy?”
“No. I went to the airport. I lined up to board but…I saw this poster of you at the gate. Can you freaking believe that?”
He laughed and nodded. “I can, actually. I saw it, too.”
Juliet blinked. “You saw it?”
“I’ve just come back from the airport. I went there to kiss you good-bye and tell you I understood and wanted you to be happy because I didn’t want your last memory of me being that argument.”
Juliet blinked, her chest expanding at the gesture, her air thick as tar in her lungs. “Really? That was sweet.”
He winced a little at the compliment but took it on the chin. “It was Spidey’s idea. But he was right,” he added hastily. “I needed a kick up the bum. He’s not as dumb as he looks.”
Juliet made a mental note to kiss Bodie hard on the lips next time she saw him.
“So my poster made you change your mind?”
“Sort of. I was standing there, feeling worse and worse about leaving, and then there you were, looking at me, and the whole world fell out from under me. I knew. I just knew that I’d been kidding myself, that I’d fallen for you. So I couldn’t go to Italy. Not today. I couldn’t live with myself if I went away without giving us a chance.”
“To think I hated doing that goddamn ad.” He laughed and it settled deep into her marrow. “It was freezing and raining and the photographer was a snob who usually shot for Vogue and had a hard-on about his”—Ryder made air quote with his fingers—“vision and did not appreciate working with amateurs.”
She smiled. “If I was into any of that woo-woo stuff, I’d say it was a sign.” At the very least, it felt like their stars were aligning. His hand slid over hers and she entwined her fingers with his.
“You want to come home with me?” Mona growled and he grinned. “And Mona.”
Juliet laughed. “Yes. But just so you know, I’ll be sleeping in the spare room. With Mona. There is no way in hell I’m having sex with you again until you take me to Italy at the end of the footy season because I’m going then—with or without you. I’m not giving up my dream, Ryder.”
She loved him and she wanted to be with him, but she wasn’t nineteen anymore. She could have her man and her dream. She’d make it work.
“You sure know how to motivate a guy.”
For a man who’d just been told he wasn’t getting any for months, Ryder didn’t seem too perturbed by her edict. “I like to think so.”
“Except I have it on reliable information that you couldn’t stay celibate that long.”
Hell no, she couldn’t. Not with Ryder walking around the apartment in his Akubra and underwear. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll stock up on batteries.”
He leaned in on his elbows. “Can I watch?”
Juliet leaned in, too. “As long as you don’t mind me using you as a visual stimulus.”
He groaned, nuzzling his lips against her temple. “You can use me any damn way you please. But”—he cleared his throat and straightened, making an obvious effort to pull himself together as he reached into his back pocket—“there’ll be no need for celibacy.”
He placed what looked like a travel wallet on the desk between them and slid it toward her.
“Will you take this as a guarantee? Two business class tickets to Rome in September. The season will be over, and I’m reliably informed it’s the best time to visit Italy.”
Juliet blinked, her eyes suddenly swimming in hot tears as she stared at the tickets. Italy. Business class.
For six weeks.
“I know you wanted to go for longer, to live there for a while, so I’ve also rung my manager, he’s going to put out some feelers to some Italian clubs, see if I can get a contract there next year.”
Juliet glanced up sharply, blinking rapidly. “What?”
He reached across with both his hands and took both of hers. “I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your lifelong dream, Juliet. I want to share your dream with you. If you’ll let me. Will a year be long enough?”
Juliet couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A whole year? “Yes, but…you’d leave the team? For me?”
He nodded. He didn’t hesitate. “As long as I’m with you and I’m playing rugby. That’s all I need. It’s all I’m ever going to need.”
She hadn’t expected that kind of sacrifice. Would never have asked it of him. Her heart felt like the sun in her chest, impossibly big and shiny. “I…don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘I love you?’”
“Yes.” A sudden well of tears spilled down her cheeks and she smiled at him through them. “Yes. I love you. So much.”
Juliet took three steps to the latch that lifted the segment of counter and was through the other side and in his arms in a flash. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too,” he whispered back.
She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him until Mona, clearly bored of their display, yipped. They broke apart, his lips drifted to her temple. “Please tell me you’re not going to make me wait until September to be inside you again.”
Juliet sighed. “If Margie wasn’t here I’d be climbing you like a damn tree.”
His soft chuckle ruffled her hair. “Then let’s go home.”
“You hear that, Mona?” Juliet glanced at the dog. “We’re going home.” She yipped again and Juliet’s heart squeezed as Ryder scooped Mona up and tucked her against his chest.
No guy carrying a tiny, yippy dog with a snaggletooth and a pink ribbon should look so damn manly. But Ryder Davis did. And he was all hers. Forever.
Did you love this Brazen? Check out more of our steamy titles !
Don’t miss another book by Amy Andrews! Sign up for the Brazen newsletter .