Finn sprawls across the entire row like he chartered the flight. ‘Who’s the worst client you’ve ever had? Besides this grumpy bastard, obviously.’ He jerks his thumb at me.
‘Client confidentiality, Lennox. But I’ll tell you this – MacRae’s not even in my top five. Not for lack of trying, though.’
The lads howl with laughter. Even my lips break their stoic line.
Charlie’s knee leans against mine, and I don’t move. Just let her leg burn a hole through my joggers while she works on her laptop.
Jamie swaggers down the aisle, cool as ever in his designer tracksuit. ‘Harrington. That sponsorship deal with MacKenzie for MacRae and us …’
‘I know. Brilliant, wasn’t it? I keep telling you guys I’m the best,’ she says. ‘Time to wise up and believe me.’
‘Brilliant’s underselling,’ Jamie says. ‘But the clause about social media—’
‘Requires one post per month per player, with product placement that doesn’t look staged. I’ve got a photographer who can help you nail the aesthetic.’ She keeps typing, multitasking like a pro.
Jamie’s eyebrows hike up. ‘Sorted then?’
‘Sure.’
Scottie lobs a peanut at Charlie’s head from two rows down the aisle. She catches it mid-air and pops it between glossed lips. Cool as a cucumber.
‘That all you got, Kerr?’
‘Show-off,’ he grins.
She throws one of her own nuts back. It bounces off his forehead, and he looks…bewildered.
Her dirty laugh hits raw, and everything under my skin answers. I want to bottle the sound, inject it straight into my veins. Want to drag her into the loo and lick her lipstick off. Want to drop to one fucking knee right here.
Christ. I’m going to marry her someday.
The thought hits me like a tackle to the chest. But it settles deep in my bones, certain as gravity.
Coach Wallace passes by, grizzled jaw working around a mint. He pauses at our row. ‘Charlie. Got a minute? Want to make sure Brodie’s press stuff isn’t clashing with training or team commitments.’
‘Of course.’ She closes her laptop. ‘Hold this, would you?’
Our fingers skim, and electricity zips up my arm.
Then she squeezes past me, and my face is inches away from her round arse. I remember the sting in my palm when I slapped it last night. The way she moaned like it was her favourite thing. And now I’m meant to sit still and play the role of her client, while every part of me is screaming to drag her back onto my lap and remind her how it felt?
Charlie holds her composure, professional mask firmly in place as she follows Wallace to the galley.
I fake reading, ears straining to catch their conversation. No chance. The cabin hums around us, engines a low growl. Then Wallace’s rare laugh catches me by surprise. Took me ages to get more than a grunt out of Wallace, and she’s got the old grumplaughing.
I stare straight ahead, fighting to keep my expression neutral. But inside? I’m bursting with pride. That’s my girl.
When she returns, sliding into the seat beside me, I keep my eyes on my book.
‘What?’ She nudges my knee with hers, making it look casual.
‘Nothing.’ I turn a page I haven’t read. ‘Merely observing you charm the trousers off my entire team.’
‘Jealous, MacRae?’
‘Naw, impressed.’
She shrugs, but I catch the pleased blush on her cheeks. ‘Athletes are all the same. Speak their language and they fall in line.’ Her voice is light, but there’s a weight behind the words that I don’t miss.
