Page 30 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
With renewed purpose, I throw myself back into the rhythm of the cafe, each smile a little more genuine, each pastry a testament to my resilience. And if I happen to add an extra sprinkle of love to every dish... Well, that's just the Garner family secret ingredient.
ELLIOTT
The rugby ball spirals towards me, a blur of brown against the azure Auckland sky. I stretch, muscles screaming, fingertips justgrazing leather –
And miss. Again.
"Come on, Snow!" Coach bellows from the sidelines. "My gran could catch that, and she's been dead for ten years!"
I grit my teeth, jogging back into position. The turf beneath my cleats feels like concrete, every step sending jolts of pain through my healing knee.
"You alright there, mate?" Jonah asks as he jogs past.
"Never better," I lie, forcing a grin.
The whistle blows, and we're off again. I push myself harder, faster, ignoring the way my body protests. The ball comes my way once more, and this time, I snag it. A brief flare of triumph before –
WHAM!
I hit the ground hard, the air driven from my lungs. For a moment, all I can see are stars.
"Snow! You're supposed to dodge, not hug the guy!"
I roll to my feet, wincing. "Sorry, Coach. Won't happen again."
But it will. Because right now, I'm moving like a geriatric sheep, not the star player I'm supposed to be. The guys are counting on me, the team needs me at my best, and I'm... not.
As I line up for the next drill, I think of Liv's cafe. The way her eyes light up when she talks about her latest creation, how she pours her heart into every pastry. Maybe I should swing by after practice, grab a flat white and one of those heavenly ricotta tarts. The thought of her smile is almost enough to make me forget the ache in my knee.
Almost.
The whistle blows again. I take a deep breath, ignoring the doubts gnawing at the edges of my mind. One more drill. One more chance to prove I've still got what it takes.
"Alright, lads!" I shout, clapping my hands. "Let's show 'em how it's done!"
I channel every ounce of determination I've got, picturing the rocky banks of the river where I used to practice my footwork as a kid. The ground may have been uneven, but I never let it slow me down. I won't let this injury slow me down either.
I drag my battered body off the rugby field, every muscle screaming in protest. The coach's words echo in my head: "Snow, you're not the player you used to be. Maybe it's time to consider your options."
I grimace, tossing my gear into my bag. The Iceman, melting under pressure. What a headline that would make.
But as I start my truck, a different thought pushes through the fog of exhaustion and self-doubt. Liv. Her cafe. The way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, how she always seems to know exactly what I need before I do.
"Right," I mutter, shifting into gear. "Time to defrost."
The drive to Ponsonby feels longer than usual, anticipation building with each kilometer. I need her warmth, her unwavering belief in me. Maybe, just maybe, in her presence, I can remember the farm boy who once dreamed of greatness, who saw each obstacle as just another river stone to cross.
As I pull up outside Dolce Vita, I catch a glimpse of Liv through the window, flour dusting her cheek like stardust. My heart does a little skip, and suddenly, the aches in my body don't seem quite so bad.
"Alright, Iceman," I say to my reflection. "Time to let a little sunshine in."
I push open the cafe door, the familiar chime of bells mixing with the scent of freshly baked bread and espresso. My eyes find Liv's instantly, as if drawn by some invisible force. She's behind the counter, a smudge of flour on her cheek, and the moment our gazes lock, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to melt away.
"Ciao, bello," Liv calls out, her smile brightening the entire room. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up."
I chuckle, making my way to the counter. "That obvious, huh?"
She reaches out, her fingers brushing my hand. "To me? Always."
