CALLUM
A recurring cruciate injury has been troubling me since the Six Nations. Thirty-three isn’t old in the real world, but it’s pushing on for a sporting career. I can’t complain. What a career it’s been, but that’s exactly why it is so hard to accept its inevitable conclusion. My chest tightens at the thought. I put it down to stress and attempt to relax. The steam room, jacuzzi and massages are my favourite way to do so after a week on the field. Some Friday afternoons, half the Irish rugby team could be found lazing between the pool and the jacuzzi at Carton House.
‘Callum. How are you?’ A pretty spa therapist called Hannah greets me warmly. I know most of them by now – not like that. I love women, but even I try not to shit on my own doorstep. Coach would kill me, apart from anything else.
‘Glad it’s Friday,’ I answer truthfully. The reprieve from training is a welcome relief.
I sling my bag into a free locker, don my swimming shorts and hang the hotel-issued white fluffy robe on a free hook outside the eucalyptus steam room. I place my towel on the wooden bench and seek some much-needed solitude in the swirling steam, replaying today’s training over in my mind. Next year will more than likely be my last season. If I can even get that far with this damn injury. It’s perfect for weeks on end, then bam – before I know it I’m floored again.
The solitude is short-lived, as the condensation-blurred glass door is thrust open against the wall, allowing a gust of cool air to sweep in. I had hoped to reflect on the situation, maybe even wallow a little. But Eddie and his youthful athletic energy put heed to that for now.
‘Hey, man. I thought I’d find you here. We still on for a pint later?’ He takes a seat opposite me, shaking out his floppy hair like a damp dog.
‘Sure. Let’s eat here, then head back to Dublin.’ As one of the few remaining singletons, we often dine together.
Fuck the boys and fuck their bet. I’m on the prowl for a woman tonight. It’s been four weeks. My needs are consuming me. The last woman turned up at training three times in one week, despite my crystal-clear declarations from our very first encounter. Coach had to ask her to leave, much to Marcus’s amusement. She sold her story to the press, resulting in the touchdown remark. She was too much. I prefer my women the same as my cars; sleek, fast and low maintenance. It’s easier that way.
‘Heading for a swim, I’ll meet you in the bar about seven, yeah?’ I stand to leave.
‘Grand.’ Eddie nods.
Sweat trickles the length of my tired muscles as I towel off the excess water and reach for the robe I left on the hook. A tall exquisite blonde, sporting nothing but a cerise bikini, stands deliberately blocking my access.
‘That’s mine.’ She reaches for my robe.
I glance briefly over her slim, exposed body. She’s seriously hot, literally and metaphorically.
‘Actually, it’s not.’ I’m one hundred per cent confident that this particular robe’s the one I left here, not twenty minutes earlier. But if she wants to get technical about this, it actually belongs to the hotel.
Her porcelain jaw sets in a hard line of determination, and ferocious flames ignite in her rich brown eyes. Confidence oozes from her every pore. She shows absolutely no sign of backing down. If I offer to share the damn robe with her, would she take me up on it? How would her toned sweaty body feel sliding underneath mine? I’d love the opportunity to find out.
She folds her arms over her prominent chest, conscious that I’m blatantly admiring her semi-naked state. Subtly isn’t my strong point, especially when it comes to something I want. And I always get what I want, primarily because I’m willing to work for it. Unable to prevent the smirk from sliding onto my face, I put all thoughts of wallowing aside and opt to have a little fun.
Arched eyebrows continue to challenge me.
‘Check the pocket,’ she insists. ‘You’ll find my keycard in the right-hand side.’
‘Is that an invitation?’ I tease, knowing full well it’s anything but.
‘It most certainly is not. It’s proof of identity. Of ownership of the towelling robe!’ she corrects me, furiously articulating every word.
A slow blush creeps up over her make-up free face. Blonde messy hair secured on the top of her head exposes a decidedly kissable slender neck. Despite her obvious femininity, she’s openly fierce, possibly even liable to snap if I push her much further. Yet, I can’t help myself.
I snatch the robe in question from the hook before she can, wrap it around myself and hold it open suggestively. ‘Room for two.’ I wiggle my eyebrows at her and motion for her to climb inside with me. Laughter presses tightly inside my chest, though clenched fists highlight her lack of amusement.
‘You must be the most chauvinist arrogant man in this entire estate. Check the pocket and be done with it.’ Tiny goosebumps ripple across her exposed wet flesh, she’s freezing following the heat of one of the many saunas.
I glance at her bikini top, to check for symptoms of her chilly state elsewhere, earning a sharp, but unsurprising slap on the arm. At least it wasn’t my face. And even I have to admit, I’m asking for it. I can no longer restrain myself, devilish laughter escapes my chest, echoing throughout, yet she refuses to crack a smile.
As much as I’m enjoying the sight of her semi-naked body, I don’t relish the thought of her perishing. It’s a shame to cover something so beautiful, but my chivalry wins out in the end.
‘Okay, okay, have the damn robe.’ I slip it off and hand it to her, holding my hands up in defeat.
She fastens it around her, securing the waistband tightly in position before slipping a hand into the right pocket. Wrinkled fingers search for her keycard, one that I’d already ascertained isn’t there. Her body visibly sags. The earlier blush develops into a burning crimson fire, illuminating her cheeks. She struggles to meet my grinning eyes.
‘You’re welcome…’ I momentarily enjoy her embarrassment.
‘S-sorry…’ she stammers. I watch in an unusual fascination as she reluctantly appears to contemplate removing the robe. As much as I’d love to see that fantastic body once again, I’ve wound her up enough for one day.
