15
15
Callum
First rule of shinty: if you didn’t bleed, did you even play?
Blood spilled from my nose, the metallic taste filling my mouth and dripping down my chin.
I spat, staining the white-painted boundary line red.
“Fuck, Callum – I’m sorry, I didn’t see you—” Mal raced to my side on the final whistle, panic staining his sweat-slicked face.
I ran the back of my hand under my chin, catching the flow.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
That honour belonged to the too good-looking Jamie Stewart.
I’d always liked the lad, but damn if I didn’t want to wipe the smile off his face.
I’d been distracted from the first blow of the whistle.
It was the first game back of the season and not only was I out of shape and ill-prepared, but I’d gone and invited Juniper.
Despite the crap she’d spewed about having a date, she’d actually shown up as if dressed for one.
Chunky black heeled boots, just thick enough not to sink into the soft earth of the village green.
Bare legs disappearing beneath a calf-length coat that gave the impression of nothing beneath.
She looked as if she’d stepped out of a very vivid dream I’d had last night.
One that involved me on my knees and those heels buried in my back.
Apparently, Jamie felt the same, because the second the wee prick had been substituted off the field, he’d made a beeline for her.
What followed had been an unsettling amount of laughter on Juniper’s end.
What the fuck was he saying to her?
Knock knock jokes? I’d known him all his life and he’d never made me laugh like that.
And you’ve never made her laugh like that.
One eye on them, I’d thrown myself into the game, diving into tackles I’d usually be wise enough to avoid.
Paying so little attention that when Juniper drew up her coat sleeve and Jamie’s fingers drifted over the delicate tattoo on her inner wrist – a small swallow in flight – a roaring filled my head and I’d run nose first into Malcolm’s elbow.
There’d been no telltale crunch of bones breaking.
And with only five minutes left on the clock, I’d sidestepped Mal’s flapping hands accompanied by a string of cursed apologies and thrown myself back into the fray, scoring a final goal before the whistle blew.
I wish I could say I hadn’t been hoping to impress the wee demon on the sidelines, but I’m man enough to admit my weaknesses.
Pressing one nostril closed, I released a sharp breath, trying to clear the blood as teammates clapped me on the back and strode for the changing rooms. Sweat ran in rivulets down my neck, but a shower would have to wait.
My brother had already reached April and Juniper’s little circle, grumbling but clearly delighted when April curled against his chest.
“I stink,” I heard him whisper as I closed in.
Her arms looped around his neck.
“That’s a pity. Now we both need a shower.”
Usually seeing my shy brother’s face light up felt like a warm hand curled around my heart.
But right then, their happiness only entrenched the sting of loneliness settling into my bones.
“Good game, captain.” Jamie grinned boyishly, his attention drifting from Juniper long enough to notice my approach.
Fuck off, Jamie.
“Thanks.” I kept my voice cool when I felt anything but fucking cool .
I wanted to push him face first into the mud.
I settled for inserting myself between them.
The sharp end of my elbow might have been involved, but who could be certain?
In my periphery, Mal and April glanced at me and then each other.
April’s pointed expression very much saying, Told you so.
I didn’t give a fuck.
The in-love busybodies could think what they liked, especially when Juniper looked at me and cupped her hands over her mouth.
“Oh my god. What happened?”
Wonderful.
I’d taken my brother’s very solid elbow to the face, and she hadn’t even noticed.
I cleared out my nostril again.
“It’s nothing.”
Pulling a tissue from her bag, April curled it into my palm with a wince.
“Is it broken?”
“Nah,” I waved off her concern.
“Nose injuries always gush like a waterfall.”
“You should get it checked out though.” Guilt made Mal’s voice sterner than I’d ever heard it.
“Who’s the team’s first aider?”
“I am. I’ll take care of it at home.”
“You can’t drive home like that—” he started to argue.
“I’m first aid trained, come along.” Juniper’s tone brooked little argument, already cutting across the pitch like she walked a Paris runway instead of a mud-torn field.
And like she held me by the reins, I followed.
I’d follow those legs off a fucking cliff.
“Want to rub my tummy next?” I called after her, my pace languid despite the pounding taking over my face.
“Ha!” It was in no way a real laugh, but I’d take it.
“At least we’ve established who the dog is in this scenario. Do you have a first aid kit?’
“Back of the toilet door.
” I gestured to the tiny outbuilding attached to the small, moss-covered structure that held two small changing rooms – one for the home team and one for the visiting team.
She reached it first, opening the door wide.
Noticing the parameters of the cramped cubicle, she held back for me to enter first.
Pulse shifting south of my injured nose and back to my neck where it belonged, I stepped into the dim but thankfully clean space, pulling the small kit from its hook.
Following me inside, she pressed a palm to my chest, forcing me to lean atop the low sink and spread my thighs in order for her to fit.
I knew my eyes were huge in my face.
Every interaction with Juniper was akin to soothing a skittish animal, you could never be certain if she would soften or strike.
“You neglected to mention we’d basically have to curl around each other to fit.” The tops of her coat-covered legs brushed my inner thighs.
I bit my lip to hold off a groan.
“All part of the fun, don’t you think?”
She laid the first aid kit on the counter beside my hip, flipping the lid and riffling through until she found a gauze and a pair of latex gloves.
“If I were a suspicious person, I might think you’d planned all of this.”
“To get you alone?”
She raised an eyebrow, the action deceptively casual as she unbuttoned her coat.
“ If I were a suspicious person.”
“Harpy.” The journey of her fingers over those delicate buttons held me captive.
“I would do an extraordinary amount of things to get you alone. But even I draw the line at self-mutilation.” No, I couldn’t take any credit, but it was working out fucking fantastically.
She twisted to hang it from the back of the door.
And this time, I definitely groaned at the first glimpse of her preppy little pinafore dress.
A string of white pearls encircled her throat, so prim and proper I longed to replace it with one of my own.
A little demon , I reminded myself.
A maddening, stunning little demon .
In the taut silence she rolled up her sleeves, pausing long enough to ask, “You’re not allergic to latex, are you?”
Fuck .
“No.” It came out more grunt than word.
She nodded to my team jersey, splattered with a collage of blood, mud and sweat.
“Take that off.”
“Twice in one day? Perhaps I should accuse you of scheming.” The memory of her eyes on my body was enough to make me burn.
She might not like me, but this afternoon she’d wanted me.
She merely scoffed as I complied, drawing the jersey over my head and dropping it into the sink.
“Want me to remove my shorts, too?” My thumbs were already at my waistband.
“I have zero interest in your sweaty jockstrap, Macabe.”
Laughter tore free so suddenly, pain slashed across my face.
My hand shot up just in time to catch the fresh trickle of blood.
“Thanks for that.”
Her eyes flashed and she pulled on the gloves with the terrifying snap of a Victorian doctor ready to perform an amputation.
“It’ll teach you to take your eyes off the game.” Not so oblivious after all.
She stepped back into me.
Thigh to thigh. My feet bracketing hers.
“Tip your head forward and pinch the bridge of your nose.”
“Want me to bite down?”
She sighed, but her lips twitched.
“Do you ever get tired of being the funny guy?”
“All the time. It’s more of a curse, really. That and my good looks.”
“ Fucking Macabes ,” she muttered, grasping my chin and dragging it down for a better look.
Trapped in close quarters, treating a professional medic and she had no qualms in taking the lead.
I could only pray she knew what she was doing, because I’d allow her free rein to do just about anything so long as she kept touching me.
Balling gauze in her palm, she pressed it gently beneath my nostrils.
“This is going to leave one hell of a bruise.”
“Good job you like bad boys.”
She huffed again, creeping closer to that full laugh I craved.
“You’ll be closer to a labrador that swallowed a bumble bee.”
I’d treated enough to easily picture it and chuckled.
“Aye … you’re probably right.”
She searched through the box again and I brought my hand to the one still holding the gauze.
I’d meant to take it from her, but as soon as I encountered her bare wrist, my fingers caught there instead, brushing once over the bone, just to see if she’d pull away.
Her eyes snapped to mine, flaring hotly before she cleared her throat.
“It looks like the skin is split.”
“That explains the stinging.”
“We’ll wait for the bleeding to slow and clean it up.” She peeled the gauze back, peeked, then pressed it back into place.
“Hopefully it isn’t deep enough to need stitches.”
I nodded in all the right places, only registering the way her lips moved when she spoke.
Every configuration casting a spell over me.
I could meet a thousand women and never discover this energy.
I’d tried . Date after date after date I’d searched for something even remotely comparable.
It only existed here.
With this woman I shouldn’t want and could never truly have.
Looking everywhere but her face, I said, “You’re good at this.” She possessed a uniquely tender hand, so at odds with the image she put out to the world.
Anyone who thought her an ice queen hadn’t truly observed her.
An ocean of differences lay between cold and slow to burn.
And when Juniper finally burned …
what a magnificent sight it would be.
“I’ve had a lot of practice, I was a very self-sufficient child.”
“Fiona didn’t patch up your grazed knees?”
“She would have if I’d asked, but I didn’t need her to.” Her attention slid away, as though the confession left her vulnerable.
“I took care of myself for years before they adopted me.”
I tried to picture her as a child.
Scrawny. Scared and alone, but always strong.
Holding everyone at arm’s length.
“And now you take care of your mum?”
Her grip on my chin faltered.
“You’re giving me a lot of unearned credit.”
“Am I? You’re here, helping me.” I could have easily managed this alone and she knew it.
“I might even make the mistake of thinking you like me.” My statement hung as she removed the gauze and replaced it with a fresh bundle, her fingers slipping right back into place across my cheek.
I knew I should keep quiet – luxuriate in the wonder of Juniper Ross taking care of me for a few minutes longer – yet I couldn’t stop my mouth from running.
“We should talk about that night in Glasgow.”
She stiffened.
Great start . “Why now?”
Because I’m dying to know if you replay it as often as I do?
“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?”
“I could go another five years.”
“ Harpy .”
“ Callum .”
Fuck.
My hands fisted on my thighs.
“If you think flirting is going to distract me, it won’t.”
“I said your name.”
“ Exactly . You never say my name.” I hadn’t been fully prepared for how it would rattle me.
Or the knowledge from that moment on, it would feel wrong coming from anyone else.
“Fine,” she chimed sweetly, hands falling from my face to fold across her chest. “If we didn’t know each other … if I wasn’t me that night, would you have fucked me then?”
Rejection.
It scoured her features too quickly for her to hide it.
Absolutely not, I refused to be another person on that list. Grasping her crossed arms, I tugged her closer, securing her body even more tightly to mine so my words couldn’t be misconstrued.
“Allow me to be crystal clear this time.” My eyes bounced between hers.
“I wanted to fuck you because you’re you , that never changes. But I also knew why you wanted me . I’m not a good man, sweetheart. I’ve betrayed my brother in my mind more times than I can count, and I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d selfishly taken what you offered when it was little more than pain-fuelled revenge for you.” Biggest regret of my life .
Well, second, it sat right below letting Alistair meet her first.
Silence stretched.
“I think that’s probably enough for now,” she nodded to the gauze.
Stamping down my disappointment, I peeled it away, dropping it onto the pile as she tilted my chin this way, then that.
The fabric of her dress brushed my lower abs.
I sucked in a breath.
I could only hope she didn’t glance down at the growing bulge in my shorts.
I didn’t even have enough brain cells remaining to be embarrassed.
“You played shit by the way,” she said, a breath before she swiped an alcohol wipe over the small wound.
“ Shit, that burns . Your bedside manner could use some work.”
Her eyes danced, all humour returning as she wiped at the cut a second time.
“I can leave if you like?”
“No. I wouldn’t like.” Giving into the instinct, I allowed my hand to slide around her waist, bunching the fabric of her dress.
“We won, didn’t we?”
“No thanks to you.”
“So you were paying attention.”
She shrugged, an unusual gesture for Juniper.
She didn’t play coy.
And was that … a blush creeping up her neck?
I dropped my head to whisper at her ear, “I was paying attention too. You’re very distracting in this little dress.” My fingers curved in, pressing grooves into her skin.
The other hand falling to graze the short hem.
Her hands slid from my face, nails scraping through my beard, down my throat to where spots of blood had dried.
She didn’t seem aware of the action.
“ Juniper .” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to keep my oversensitive body at bay.
The adrenaline rush after a game always left my body buzzing, and being so close to her – touching her skin – was a rush all its own.
I felt like my muscles might shred apart from trying.
Her hands left my body – a flick of latex as she discarded the gloves – and then they were on me once more, cool and soft against my overheated skin.
She might look at me with venom, but she didn’t touch me that way.
Long fingers brushed across my cheekbones, the caress as light as butterfly wings.
Then up, up, to the streaks of silver at the temples of my sweat-soaked hair.
I groaned, needing to be the one to kiss her .
But the way she was looking at me – touching me – she might get there first.
“What are we doing?” she whispered into the scrap of space.
Good question, sweetheart .
“Whatever we want.”
“Your hands are trembling.”
“So they are.” I dipped in, brushing my battered nose – barely feeling the bite of pain – then lips over her cheek.
She inched back, not retreating but rolling with the movement.
“Juniper,” I said again.
Her name the only word in the world.
She whimpered, head falling into my waiting palm.
“You finally going to let me touch you?” I licked her pulse.
It pounded beneath my tongue.
“Taste you?” I pressed my hips into her, delighting in her frantic nod.
“That night at the bar, it’s all I could think about. Your thighs hooked over my shoulders – coming on my tongue.” The light above us flickered in and out, as if answering the buzz of electricity generating between us.
We hadn’t technically hit a base yet and I was more aroused than I’d ever been, because this was happening.
It was fucking happening.
No more waiting, no more wondering.
Juniper writhed in my arms, curling her leg over my hip.
A dream, spinning into reality.
This time, I wouldn’t be fucking noble.
This time, she was mine.