Page 17 of A Surprise for the Holidays
“AJ,” Bailey said his name in a tone that suggested he’d repeated himself more than once.
AJ blinked and gave himself a shake, realising that the object of his musings was looking at him in concern. “Hmm?”
“We asked if you wanted to put the star on the top of the tree,” Bailey answered, then frowned. “Are you okay? You’re looking a bit pale. Well,” he smirked, “more pale than usual.”
“Just because I do my best to avoid being fried by your skin-cancer inducing sun,” AJ grumbled, repeating his usual argument when it came to his lack of a tan, “doesn’t mean I’mpale.”
Bailey visibly relaxed, and it warmed AJ to note that his unexpected crush (at his age, such a thing seemed ridiculous, but there he was anyway) seemed to genuinely care about him, too. “So…” Bailey prompted, jerking his head back in the direction of the Christmas tree, that ridiculous man bun of his practically pointing at it like bobbly arrow, “The star?”
AJ pushed himself up from the couch and smiled down at his daughter, suggesting, “How about we put it on together?”
Ava cheered and held one pointy arm of the star in her petite little hand as he hoisted her onto his hip and then, with his free hand, helped her to position the decoration on the top of the tree.
When he stood back to admire the finished product, he had to admit that Bailey had done a good job of it. It looked…festive. How the striker had managed to keep the decorations lookingneat and not all clustered together when he’d had the assistance of a five-year-old throughout the process, AJ would never know.
“Can we turn it on now, Daddy?” Ava asked. “I want to see the pretty lights.”
The afternoon light was fading into the dusk of early evening, so AJ nodded. “Go for it, poppet.”
Bailey pointed out where the switch on the base of the tree was and she clicked it over. Instantly, the almost invisible strands of fibre optic cable burst to life in a charming spray of blue, red, green and yellow lights.
“Oooh,” Ava clutched at his hand, “it’s very pretty!” She looked up, but her head was turned to the right, her adoring gaze directed to Bailey, who held her other hand. AJ’s heart gave another maddening squeeze at how domestic the scene felt. Ava carried on blithely, unaware of the twisting of her father’s gut. “Thank you, Bailey!”
“Anything for you, princess,” was the striker’s reply.
“You staying for tea?” AJ blurted the question, suddenly nervous for the answer. Bailey was only twenty-six. He probably had a date lined up. He probably—
“I’d love to.”
Just like that, AJ’s nerves evaporated. He smiled. “Great. I’m going to barbecue some steaks tonight. Yes,” he looked down at his daughter between them, ignoring the rapid beating inside his chest, “bangers and mash for you.”
“A proper barbie, huh?” Bailey teased lightly. “We’ll turn you into an Aussie yet.”
“Well, I’m stuffed.” Bailey sat back on the couch with a groan, rubbing his taut abs.
Now that he had discovered his interest in them, AJ couldn’t stop wondering what it might be like to run his tongue over them. He felt fifteen again, unable to control his thoughts from turning to sex despite knowing he should not be fantasising about the man sitting next to him.
It was late. AJ had tucked Ava into bed an hour or so earlier, and then he and Bailey had picked at the leftovers from dinner, despite it not being in the best interest of Bailey’s mid-season meal plan.
Glancing down at his own belly, AJ stifled a sigh. He’d never been as toned as Bailey, though he’d been fit during the peak of his career. In the last couple of years, he’d slowed down, and middle-age spread had made it harder to maintain what toning he’d had. Now, after six months on the sidelines, despite still using the gym and going for daily jogs (pre-Ava), he’d definitely lost the battle against the bulge. His chest was still broad and firm, but there was no denying the dad bod he was sporting.
Even if things were different and he wasn’t Bailey’s coach, he doubted the much younger, much fitter man would ever find him attractive in return.
“You right?” Bailey’s voice broke into his musings again, and he looked up to find the man’s light-brown eyes trained on him with concern again. “I lost you there for a minute.”
AJ shrugged. “Just…thinking.”
“About…?”
“How much things’ve changed, I guess.” It was vague, but it wasn’t a lie.
Bailey’s gaze narrowed, an almost out-of-character shrewdness sparking in his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot in the past six months, and I’m guessing the lead-up to your retirement was also shitty.”
AJ cringed at the reminder of the death of his beloved career, but nodded. “Yeah. I’m regretting what a twat I was.” Where that confession had bubbled up from, he’d never know. But it was true, and it was a surprising weight off his shoulders to voice it. “I should’ve made the best of the end, y’know? Instead, I fucking wasted it.”
He’d spiralled and wallowed and essentially thrown a giant, long-term temper tantrum over the decline of his career. Objectively speaking, upon reflection, he’d made a right tit of himself for all the world to see. No wonder the only club interested in taking him on as a coach had been a desperately new one in Australia, of all places.
Not that he was unhappy there. He’d resented it at first, and he still hated the sweltering heat and humidity, but the team were fucking awesome, and it was satisfying to watch them climb the ladder during their debut season. To be a part of that success gave him a sense of accomplishment.
