Page 17 of Big Rucking Disaster

I almost suggested he was being nice to get into my pants.

Yeah, suggesting that to the straight guy, even as a joke, probably won’t go over well.And I couldn’t suggest he was interested in my sister either—which had been my first flash thought when he brought her up. “If you’re serious, I can make it happen. You think your guys will be interested in coming?”

“Isaiah teaches high school, so he’s definitely interested. He’s just in his first year, though, so he’s still feeling his way around.”

God, I remembered what those days were like.

“That’s why I would suggest after school or on a Saturday. Then he can come, and he might bring a couple of kids as well.”

“Did you have all this planned, or are you—”

“Winging it? Totally winging it.” He put his plate on the coffee table and yanked out his phone. “How’s next Monday afternoon? If we do it after school, I suspect Isaiah could make it. I can text him if you’re good.”

“I can’t speak for my students—lots have part-time jobs—but if I announce it tomorrow, I suspect most will be able to make the time.”

“Great.” He grinned, but continued typing on his phone.

Within moments of him ceasing, it buzzed like, six times.

“Okay. Jason, Isaiah—and even Roger—are in.”

“That’s fantastic. I’ll put an announcement out tomorrow and let all the kids know. Isaiah will tell his students?”

“Yep. He teaches just down the road from you, and I’m certain he’ll have kids who will hop the bus and head your way. Friendly rivalry, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I know which school you’re talking about. They beat us at football and we always kick their asses on the basketball court.” I winced. “Our football equipment isn’t quite as good as theirs. Not a reason for losing, but it doesn’t help either.”

“You don’t do, like, fundraisers and stuff?”

“Who are we trying to fundraise from? Our kids come from lower-income homes. We apply for grants and stuff, but there’s only so much money to go around. That’s why rugby’s such a great sport. Sure, there’s a bit of equipment—but not gear like football. Rugby’s an equal-opportunity sport.”

He grinned. “You get it. I mean, my uncle had money, so I could’ve played whatever I wanted. Except he was a 15s fan. England, to be specific. He felt Canada should never have become an independent country.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He was deferential to Queen Elizabeth, but he really wanted a king back on the throne.”

“That’s…”

“Sexist? Misogynist? You better believe it. Every day, I heard how useless women were.” His eyes shadowed. “I’d like to think I’m better than him.”

I closed my left eye, trying to understand his words. “You think you’re like him? Disrespecting women?”

“No.” His phone buzzed again. He glanced down and winced. “Sorry, I really need to make a phone call.”

“Not a problem. I need to clean up. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“I was wondering if I might crash here tonight? I’m worried about your head.”

“Uh, unless you suddenly don’t have a home, you’re not staying here. My head’s fine, thank you. A couple more painkillers before bed, and I’ll be perfect by tomorrow.”

He looked doubtful.

I pointed to his phone.

Again, he winced. “Yeah, can’t put this off.” Sounded like something he definitely didn’t want to do. “I’ll call a cab myself. Thanks for dinner.” He headed to the kitchen.

Before I was even able to rise, he was gone.

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