Page 7 of A Reason to Try

My cock had perked up the second I caught sight of it when she turned round to slam her car door shut.

This woman was all sass and grit. Besides her gorgeous figure, her sweetheart of a face was just so damn pretty.

She had full, soft looking lips I could already picture wrapped round my cock. Her eyes were a deep, velvet brown fringed with even darker lashes. And that mouth.

Fuck me.

My gaze was glued to it. The woman had a devil’s mouth, and I couldn’t wait to hear what came out of it next. I stared into those captivating eyes, and a flicker of something new, of possibility, flashed through me.

Just like lightning.

Maybe, just maybe, I could have more than life as an ex-rugby player. Maybe I didn’t have to weather it alone.

But first, I had to figure out how to stop being a jerk. I opened my mouth to speak, but the little spitfire was all riled up and turned around.

I fought the smirk that teased the corner of my mouth, recalling how she stomped her tiny little feet and came toe to toe with me. It was like watching a sparrow confront a hawk.

She was tiny but fierce, and there was a thrill in her defiance that was hard to ignore. Of course, I had to look down to meet her stormy gaze. She stood at least a foot shorter than my six foot three-inch frame.

“Look, I am sorry about Steven, the bus driver. He shouldn’t have parked so close,” I said, crossing my arms just to stop myself from reaching for her.

“Well then, Steven can find a hose to wash it off. As for you all,” she said, turning back to me one more time.

She shook her head, her gaze sweeping over all thirty-six of my guys and me.

“Here’s a list of your cabin assignments. They’ve been cleaned and prepped for your arrival. If there is anything else you need,” she said, a false smile in her tone before she turned back to face me with a snarl on her pretty lips, “figure it the fuck out yourself!”

Then she turned again, flashing that gorgeous arse my way, an adorable little switch when she walked, and stormed back to the tiny little car she’d been driving.

The men hooted and hollered, but I shut them up with a sharp whistle. I felt like a total idiot. Couldn’t believe I let my temper cause this little woman to quit her job.

“Wait! Come on,” I yelled louder, jogging to reach her side as another roll of thunder shook the sky.

“Give that here, Coach,” Koa Jackson, our record-breaking number 8, said and grabbed the clipboard with our bunk assignments she’d tossed at me.

He started shouting orders at the team, and I was grateful for the help. I’d do it myself, but I was occupied at present. I had other things to do.

Like learn to fucking grovel.

“Miss DeLusso, can I have just a second,” I said.

Sassy little thing ignored me, cursing under her breath, using her sleeve to try to wipe the mud off the handle.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“Carolina, just let me try?—”

“Is that another touchdown joke? Anyway, no. You have no reason to try anything with me,” she replied cheekily,

“Stop. You’re ruining your shirt,” I muttered.

For some reason, watching her try to wipe that mud off with her pristine little sweater was making me feral.

“What do you even care?” she asked, shrugging her small shoulders and ignoring me as she patted her pockets and started checking in her bag.

I assumed she was looking for her keys.

“Why don’t you come sit down and we can have a chat?”

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