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Chapter 21
I was recording the Saints game at home—I know, such a dedicated sports journo, and perve—but I watched it with Mom and Dad as well, and then headed home just after. I got in around three-thirty with plenty of time to preen before I had to join the WAGS (wives and girlfriends) at the airport to pick up The Russian. I texted him to congratulate him on a brilliant game—maybe he should get stressed out more often—and he texted back the flight details and the cutest message about not being able to breathe properly until he saw me. It always surprised me when he put himself out there, romantically.
As I walked in the door and found the house empty—not sure where Josh was—my phone rang. It was Sasha.
“Hey Sasha, good game and another win,” I said in greeting.
“Great game. Makes my life so much easier when they win ... plenty of media coverage and it’s all good,” she said. “Not to mention the mood around the office is so much better. Speaking of which, what did you and The Russian discuss in his office the other day?”
I grinned recalling our misadventure. “Oh you know, just the usual stuff ... technique, the highs and lows of sport ...”
“Uh huh,” she said, unconvinced. “Kay said the meeting appeared to go well. Anyway, I’m just checking to make sure you are okay.”
“Oh, that’s nice, thanks. Why?” I wondered if The Russian had told anyone in the team about our fight, or maybe Lucas had spread the word.
“Nik woke The Russian up in the hotel corridor this morning. He was sleeping outside his room, Lucas kicked him out!”
“Oh that,” I said. “We might have had a few words and some late night and early morning text messages ... maybe he didn’t sleep so well and Lucas kicked him out to get some sleep.”
“Mm, well, Lucas and The Russian aren’t spilling, but I don’t care about the details ... I’m not a gossip girl. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t eating ice-cream and watching break-up movies,” she said.
“Sash, you’re the best, thanks for caring. I’m just fine,” I assured her. “Will you be picking up Nik tonight?”
“Yeah. Are you coming?” she asked, surprised.
“I am! Until then, and hey, thanks Sash.” We hung up and I decided to give the house a quick clean and change the sheets, just in case. I hear make-up sex is really good.
*****
I got to the airport about twenty minutes early and found the gate where my man would be arriving soon. I was pleased to see Sasha already there; I joined her and she introduced me to a few of the other girls, including Eddie’s fiancée, Tiffany, and Laura who was Buzz’s fiancée ... I’d heard they’d only recently gotten engaged. Laura was gorgeous with this wild red hair and green eyes.
Alice was there from the office too and she waved and came over with her friend, whom I recognized as Mia – Captain Fantastic’s girlfriend. I was fit tall, but she was fit cute ... about five-foot-five, well-proportioned, with runner legs and slim hips. She had her shoulder length brown hair tied back in a single braid.
“Hi Carla,” she said, “I hear our boys shared a room last night ... well, for a while,” she grinned.
I shook her offered hand. “Yes, The Russian must have been snoring and got kicked out!” We had a laugh and a chat about sports. She was keen on getting some physio experience with my Suns team and I said I’d be happy to introduce her to the current physio staff. She asked after my injury, which was kind, and she was genuinely interested. I could see what Lucas saw in her, she was calm but confident, in charge, and she inspired me ... she made me realize that maybe I needed to be firmer with The Russian. Close down his insecurity, not let him run away with it, and instead of trying to appease him, I should try pulling him into line and making him see how ridiculous it all sounded. Seemed like a good plan anyway.
Then the plane landed and my heart rate increased. I looked over and saw a few journos and photographers waiting for the team. One of the photographers recognized me and gave me a wave; I waved back and prayed he wouldn’t come over ... I needed The Russian to see me with the girls and waiting one hundred percent for him when he came through that door. I wondered how the super cool Russian was going to react. Sasha said he always avoided the spotlight with his ex Leesa, but I guessed she had always been in the spotlight. Would he kiss me publicly? Would he hurry me out of there, or treat me like I had always been part of the furniture and be super cool about it? My money was on the latter.
The doors opened and a few of the flight attendants came out, along with a handful of passengers. Buzz was out first and greeted us. He wrapped an arm around Laura and gave me a wink as they left, as though all was forgiven for his prank. Some of the Saints’ crew followed, then the coach, and Lucas who gave Mia a wave and pointed in the direction of the journos. She nodded, knowing he had to give a quick interview first.
“Bloody journos,” she said, winking at Sasha, and then she remembered I was one too and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m surrounded by them. Wow, it’s going to be hard not to report the internal scoops you hear now, Carla,” she said to me.
“Tell me about it. I’ve had to separate my inside knowledge of the Suns from my job for years!”
Tomás came into sight, greeted us all and left with Alice, and then Nik and The Russian appeared. The Russian’s eyes scanned the area and found mine, and he gave me a smile that would launch ships. He walked towards me, threw his bag over his shoulder and wrapped his spare arm around me, pressing me hard to him, our lips locked. It was so healing, his lips on mine, his skin against mine, just the feel of his strong body encompassing me, and he didn’t stop kissing me. I couldn’t believe it, in front of his teammates and everything!
“Geez, not in public you two, cut it out,” Lucas teased, coming over and giving Mia a showy kiss.
“Get a room, Russian,” Nik added as Sasha threw herself at him, and then we heard the sound of flashes and The Russian released me just a few inches, enough to draw a breath.
“So needed that,” he said. “Hello, Brooker.”
“Hello Russian,” I grinned up at him, admiring his dark eyes and beautiful face. He looked exhausted.
One of the journos yelled out to us. “Going to teach him to play basketball, Carla?”
“I don’t think he’s tall enough,” I replied with a wave. The Russian nodded at the journo, and hurried us along.
