Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MAISIE
Sports had never been on Maisie’s list of priorities until today, and boy was she glad that she’d weathered the drizzle and rain to come. Beneath the shelter of the stand at Clwb Rygbi Aberystwyth , she watched Iain bulldoze his way into every tackle of this game he played against a town called Burry Port.
He was hard to ignore on a normal day, but this lunchtime – with his broad chest expanding against his striped, blue team shirt, the rain pushing his dark curls into his forehead – it was damn near impossible to look at anyone else.
Those were some short, tight shorts that he wore. Watching him run about all sweaty and muddy in them was practically foreplay. She couldn’t quite believe that those firm thighs had been between hers, that those fingers he wrapped around the oval ball and sprinted with had helped bring her to the point of feeling as though she could touch stars.
Since coming home from the glamping trip, they hadn’t come close to having sex yet, and though he’d listened to her and respected her about taking things slow, Maisie knew that she was ready. Her body hadn’t ever wanted someone so much as she wanted Iain, and her mind was right there with that impulse too. This man was a giver, and he actually listened to every unspoken thing that she said. She knew that once they went there, things would be different than they had been in the past.
They’d been getting to know each other steadily for months already – Maisie didn’t need any more time.
She had very little clue of what was going on in front of her, though. Whilst her brothers had tackled each other when they were growing up, she’d been drawing or painting or following their mum around the kitchen.
She winced every time Iain took a hard hit in a tackle and cheered whenever he had the ball and ran. Watching him squat and lean into the scrum was an experience. And when he proved to her that he could indeed lift a 110-kilo man in the air by his arse, she got all giddy inside.
The crowd that lined the stand roared as players clashed into a pile, the ball flying between bodies.
“Oh-oh-oh— Go —Go!” Maisie ended up screaming when it was Iain who caught it and ran full pelt, every muscle in his thighs explosive as he burst forwards. He was two-thirds up the field with men both on his tail and darting towards him, heading for the white line at the other end that seemed to score them points if they got the ball over it.
One of the opposition players dove to tackle him at the waist, but Iain dodged and they missed, and with his teammates getting the others to the ground, he had a clear run ahead.
The sound that came from the stand was deafening. Maisie’s eyes cut to the scoreboard and clock; their points were neck and neck and there was barely three minutes left.
“Run, Iain,” she yelled, and he might have actually heard her over the crowd because his legs pumped even quicker. The poor guy on his tail had no hope, reaching out and barely poking his back before Iain dove for the wet grass and slid over the line with the ball.
The crowd exploded into noise and Maisie jumped with her fists in the air, rugby ball earrings that she’d made specially for the occasion jumping with her as they dangled from her ears.
Iain had one second of rest before he was on his feet and trying to catch his breath. His teammates jumped on him with pride, and Maisie might have actually shed a tear at the way he grinned and celebrated.
“Someone you know, del ?? * ”
She spun at the voice behind her and came face to face with an older man – not as old as Ronnie, but more mature nonetheless.
Oh dear. She could tell the truth – that they were only friends, technically, but what if it got back to one of the elders? They’d know that they were lying. Still full of adrenaline from celebrating, Maisie panicked.
“The one who just scored, he’s my …” Maisie didn’t expect this fake dating thing to go outside of their hiking group, and she didn’t know what other label to put on Iain – they hadn’t talked about who they’d become to one another. “Well, I guess he’s my boyfriend.” She had to raise her voice over the unsettled crowd.
The man drew a pale, liver-spotted hand from his coat pocket, and Maisie watched how it trembled as he adjusted his woolly hat. “That’s the … the Howell boy.”
“Do you know him?”
His voice dragged just a little. “Not anymore. I did when he was a lad.”
“Oh?” Maisie turned in what space there was available between the plastic seat and the railing at her back. She’d gone for the end of the first row of the tiered seating hoping that there would be fewer people trying to squish around her.
The man looked off to the pitch as a whistle blew. “You tell him to give Alun a call for me?”
A call? Who was this man?
“Sure … Does he have your phone number? Assuming you’re Alun?” If they hadn’t seen each other since Iain was young, then what were the chances he’d know how to get in contact?
“He will do.”
Was that all? “Oh … okay.”
The man took one step down from the row behind her, taking them extremely carefully as he gripped the railing. Maisie offered to help but he refused her, and he was gone a minute later.
IAIN
As though his arse were on fire, Iain sprinted through his shower routine and ran out of the team’s changing room with his kit bag slung over his shoulder. They’d won the game because of that last try he’d scored for them, with the fly-half taking it to conversion easily. If it were any other day, he would stay for the celebratory post-game drinks and food in the clubhouse with the lads, but his blood was hot and there was only one face that he wanted to see.
“Woah—where’s the fire? You’re burning up the carpet there.” Aron intercepted him two steps inside the function room, a good graze on his cheek from the game.
Iain clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m heading home.”
“You’re skipping out on us, Howell?” Cai was right by their side, pint in hand and sporting their club tie.
“I’ve got somewhere to be,” he said, grinning.
“Somewhere or someone ?”
Thoughts of who waited for him outside put a smirk on Iain’s lips. “See you later, lads.”
“You better not.” Aron slapped his back as he barged between them, his dry tone full of insinuation.
Iain made his excuses to his team manager who’d given him a look that saw right through him – word about Maisie had spread through his teammates and there were only two culprits to blame – then ducked out of the clubhouse into the car park.
As soon as time was called, the crowd had come onto the field, and Maisie – in a contrasting combination of hiking boots and a dress under her raincoat – had powered across the beaten-up grass straight for him. She hadn’t cared that he was covered in mud, light rain washing away beads of sweat, when she’d wrapped her arms around him and clung on tight. All her praises, saying how proud she was in his ear that rung with adrenaline, went straight to soften the deepest centre of him.
It hadn’t been an important game; if they kept on winning, they’d have two more months before the league final for their division; but Iain had heard her cheering for eighty minutes as though they were already there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his name called from the stands. His ex-fiancé rarely turned up to any of his games, since they were usually all through winter in the cold and wet, and he didn’t have much of anyone else to cheer him on, either.
He skirted a line of cars in the cramped car park to find Maisie waiting by his. She’d worn blues today – his team colour – and though he’d nicknamed her Daffy, Iain didn’t want to see any other colour on her now or ever again.
“Hey gorgeous.”
She spun a half-circle and met his eyes, her cheeks instantly red. Suspicious eyes narrowed. “You’re on a high from winning,” she said almost accusingly, as if he couldn’t think she was so beautiful.
“Not as much as I am for seeing you here.” Iain dropped his bag full of gear five steps away and didn’t stop until his palm slid around her neck. Her breath hitched and held, and he backed her up against his car without a care for setting off the alarm. It blared around them and Maisie squealed, giggling.
“Iain!” Her palms pressed against his stomach.
“There’s no one around. Everyone’s inside celebrating.” And they’d all seen her jump into his arms on the field. No one would bat an eyelid at finding them like this.
Maisie tipped her head back against the window, angling her chin up and her hips forwards like she sought attention from every area of him. “Shouldn’t you be as well?” she said silkily, which only made it even clearer to Iain that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
“I’d rather celebrate with you.”
He waited for the tiny signal of her wetting her lips before he kissed her, pressing his solid body into her soft one. She rolled her hips and ground herself against the ridge forming in his dress trousers, practically purring when he flicked his tongue into her mouth.
“ Shi—it , Daffy,” he panted, his neck hot under his collar. Only Maisie in all her soft, sweet, sensuality could get him halfway to rock hard in the middle of a car park.
Someone who’d probably come to see what the commotion of the car alarm was all about wolf-whistled from back towards the clubhouse.
Maisie pulled her lips from his, curling her fingers into his jacket’s lapels. Her breaths rushed in and out. “Could we leave before I drop to my knees right here?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Iain grabbed both of her hips. “If anyone is getting down on their knees, Daffy,” he said warningly, “it’s me.” The flash in her eyes approved. He lightly smacked the side of her arse, pressed a button on the key fob in his pocket, and opened her door.
She hopped in without even having to be asked.
* ? Sweetheart