CALLUM
The day of the fundraiser’s warm and bright. We attract big numbers, it’s not every day the public gets to witness the Irish rugby team competing in an egg and spoon race. I scan the crowds for any sign of Abby. She’s late. I hope she hasn’t changed her mind.
There’s only one more event left before we’re free to gather in the refreshment tents: the tug of war. Coach divides the team into two. James is behind me, along with Eddie and eight of our other teammates and subs. Marcus is opposite, fronting up his side, with Ollie directly behind him. Marcus is his usual cocky self. Shelly cheers from the sideline dressed like a pineapple in a luminous yellow floor-length dress and a bright green fascinator.
‘Careful you don’t break a nail princess,’ I goad him as I crouch into position.
‘Whatever. Get accustomed to losing, Connolly. This is only the start of it, man.’ He huffs, sweating before we’ve even begun.
‘Save your energy, big guy. You’re going to need every ounce of it in a minute.’ I talk the big talk, all that’s left is to deliver.
Coach blows the whistle. Whooping ensues from the crowd. Shelly’s screams are ten octaves higher than anyone else’s. She and Marcus are a match made in heaven.
My forearms bulge as my fingers grip the wiry rope and drag. I grunt like an animal. With no idea which side of the line we stand, I give it everything, thighs aching from the persistent crouch position. Brilliant sunshine blinds me. I focus on the reflection from Marcus’s sweating skinhead, blood pulsating rapidly through my veins.
Then I catch a glimpse of her pushing her way through the throng of people to get a better look. Wearing a slim-fitting white dress and gold sandals, Abby blossoms from the crowd, a rose amongst the thorns. Her long blonde hair falls freely, secured only by a pair of oversized sunglasses on her head.
Taking advantage of my distraction, Marcus and his gang pull into the lead. I force myself back into the competition. Raucous chanting reaches a deafening pitch as the event approaches a definitive end. Hauling the rope with every ounce of energy in my reserve tank, my fingers burn. Sweat clouds my eyes, but it’s worth every second of discomfort as we narrowly secure our victory. I collapse back on top of James in exertion, and he whoops in delight.
‘A taste of what’s to come,’ I pant across at Marcus with a grin.
‘Whatever, dickhead. One battle doesn’t win the war.’ Marcus is a sore loser. If he’s sore now, he will be a hell of a lot worse when I take his Audi. Then he’ll experience the true meaning of defeat. Though the Audi’s only the icing on the cake at the stage. The real prize would be Abby herself. I’d be a fucking fool not to acknowledge it. Not that she’ll let me anywhere near her. Maybe it’s for the best.
Since our impromptu dinner date, I want to bed her more than ever. But another thought torments me, haunting me each time I close my eyes, when I take a shower, every time I pause to breathe, and I’m not referring to the monstrous thoughts that lurk in my subconscious and haunt my dreams. My waking thoughts urge me to really date her, to take her out for dinner properly, not this pretend bullshit. The thought refuses to go away. I can’t even distract myself with another woman because of our agreement. And in truth, I don’t want to.
Using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, I turn to where she’d been watching in the crowd, unable to distinguish her shape anywhere.
A light touch on my arm tells me she’s jumped the makeshift fence to reach me. I leap up and pull her into a bear hug instinctively, buzzing euphorically from our victory.
If Abby’s surprised by my welcome, it doesn’t show. She flashes a row of beautiful white teeth which reflect gloriously in the afternoon sunlight. I fight the urge to push my lips onto hers as the scent of her familiar perfume erotically assaults my senses.
Marcus appears immediately, a circling shark pursuing the scent of fresh blood. He rubs a sweaty hand on the front of his shorts before extending it to shake Abby’s.
‘Abby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ His charming tone is alien to anything I’ve previously heard fall from his traditionally foul mouth. Shelly jumps the fence and joins the party.
‘Abby, I love your show.’ She throws her arms around Abby, welcoming her as though they had been friends for years.
‘Thank you. It’s great to meet you both.’ She leans closer towards me, subconsciously seeking protection. I’m more than happy to offer her shelter.
James flocks in with Nadine, Eddie and Ollie tail closely behind, all of them desperate to get a look at my woman.
Ok, so technically she isn’t my woman, not really. But with that flimsy cotton dress taunting me, lifting in the breeze, I’m even more determined to make her mine. Even if just for a night. Though at this stage I’m beginning to realise that one night won’t be nearly enough with this woman, but the need to find out is killing me.
I usher Abby toward the refreshments tent, placing my hand possessively on the small of her back. Onlookers notice us, nudging each other and whispering as we pass.
‘Have you got any underwear on under that dress?’ I can’t help myself. My mind is in the gutter. She has that effect on me.
Abby takes my hand in a deliberate show of affection for the benefit of my teammates and whispers firmly in my ear, ‘You are never going to find out, Connolly.’ She beams up at me.
To anyone else, it looks promising. To me, it’s yet another knockback. She’s driving me fucking crazy. Now and again, I convince myself the feeling’s mutual, especially when her hand lingers on my arm longer than necessary. And she called me sexy, at least twice. But it’s possible my ego’s running away with itself. Each time she knocks me back, my determination to have her strengthens. It’s not just the way she looks. It’s her. She’s the perfect balance of feminine and ferocious. She’s everything I hadn’t realised I wanted. I’ve never known frustration like it. On the plus side, it’s good for my game, I’ve been acing practice lately. When I’m not keeled over in a heap, that is.
‘Glass of prosecco?’ I offer.
She hesitates for a millisecond. ‘It’s Friday I suppose.’
Shelly and Nadine beat us to the bar, slugging alcohol like it’s juice. A familiar figure approaches in the distance, the shock knocks the breath clean out of my chest.
I didn’t expect to see him here, especially today of all days.
‘Dad.’ Surprise colours my tone. I pray he’s having one of his good days.
‘Well done, son. A great turn out. Another great event.’ He wistfully drapes an arm around me and glances intently at Abby and me.
‘Dad. This is Abby. Abby, this is my father, Jimmy.’ I mentally will him not to say something that I can’t take back.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Connolly.’ Abby extends her hand to his to shake his, but the old charmer takes hers and kisses it instead. She doesn’t waver under my father’s curious gaze. He’s unused to seeing any of my women, and it couldn’t be more obvious.
Linda hovers closely nearby. She obviously drove him here. I motion her over and introduce her, praying neither of them discloses anything too private to Abby. She does not require a full family history this afternoon. I can’t even sell myself to her. I’m damn sure the whole sorry package won’t do a lot for my cause.
