Overtime (Playing The Field Book 1) Read online

  “Sounds good,” I agreed, trying not to stare at the guy behind her who was bouncing a ball on his foot, keeping the kids entertained.

  “Great! Well, let me introduce you to Luca Conti, our celebrity for the afternoon, and we can get started.”

  Huh? Celebrity? No one had said anything about a celebrity coming. If they had, I sure as hell wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing leggings.

  “Luca!” Marianne called out.

  With one final kick of the ball, he bounced it up, off his forehead, and effortlessly caught it in those hands that had me wondering what else he could do with them. This guy certainly had some talents.

  Sauntering over to us, he grinned a captivating smile, and I swear my knees buckled. Reaching Marianne’s side, he dropped a long arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair. “What’s up?”

  “Luca.” She swatted his hands away. “Behave for a minute, would you? Meet Elise McCoy. She’s the teacher of this rowdy bunch.”

  “Hi,” I replied stupidly.

  “Hey, Miss McCoy.”

  Thank God he wasn’t in my class. Hearing his raspy voice say my name was doing all sorts of things to my insides.

  Sticking out my hand between us, I waited for him to shake it. After a second’s hesitation, he wrapped his huge paw around mine, completely dwarfing it. I was so tiny next to him, but for some reason I liked it.

  “Luca.”

  I don’t even know how long we stood there staring at each other, forgetting the world around us even existed. And for a few seconds it felt like it actually did. Right up until Tara screamed, bringing me right back to reality.

  Dropping his hand, I spun around to find Tara with Jamie pinned to the ground, her foot on his chest.

  “Tara!” I chastised her. “Let him up.”

  “But, Miss! He pulled my hair!” Tara refuted.

  “Do you two want to sit over there under the trees and watch this afternoon, or do you want to apologise and join in?” I asked.

  Being a teacher wasn’t all reading and writing. There was also a healthy amount of refereeing included. They mumbled insincere apologies before going their own ways.

  “Okay! Everyone. Over here please.” I waited a few minutes as they ran over from every direction, shouldering and elbowing for the front spot. It was like herding cats. When the stragglers arrived, Nerilee, Piper, and Ann, it was finally time to get started. “I’d like to introduce…”

  “Miss! That’s Luca Conti!” Jeff yelled excitedly as he used his elbows to push his way to the front.

  “It’s Mr…”

  “Luca’s fine,” he interrupted.

  I might not have recognised this guy, but some of the kids did. I was in for one hell of a crazy afternoon.

  Chapter Three – Luca

  I’d been kicked in the shins more times than I could count, my arms were aching from having kids hanging from them, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Most of my teammates hated school clinics around town, but I didn’t mind them. Sometimes it was easy to forget why I started playing the game in the first place, but seeing the excitement and enthusiasm on the kids’ faces was just the reminder I needed.

  Then there was the teacher.

  While I’d been running around, sweating my balls off, running dribbling and kicking drills before taking my turn in the goals pretending to be a keeper – something I most certainly was not – Miss McCoy stood on the sideline, arms folded, propping up her very impressive rack. She was dangerous. Those black leggings hugged her curves and made her hips look like the perfect size for holding tight. She was a tiny little thing – at least she was a shorty compared to me – but she could very well be my perfect fit. Talk about hot for teacher. She gave those words new meaning.

  The bell rang, and the kids seemed to get a second wind. There was no wearing them out it seemed. As I headed away from the chaos, chasing down all the abandoned balls, I heard Elise trying to herd the kids. She had patience, I’d give her that. Less than two hours listening to their constant chatter, and I was ready to call it a day. And she did this every single day. Woman deserved a medal. Or at the very least a glass of wine.

  “Luca! You ready to head out?” Marianne asked.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I answered, surprised by the lack of energy in my voice. Usually I was more than ready to get away from the mayhem and back to my nice peaceful reality.

  Grabbing the bag of balls at my feet, I swung it over my shoulder and headed for my car. By the time I got back to the club, I had a million questions, and number one on the list was when we could go back to Westview Primary School for another visit. Miss Elise McCoy had me intrigued.

  “Hey, Conti?” one of my teammates, Harry, called out across the locker room.

  “What’s up?”

  “Heard you got stuck on school duty again today. How was it?”

  Some guys hated going out to the schools and the sports carnivals and giving back. I guess they’d forgotten what it was like being a kid when your hero took the time to say hi, pose for a photo, or sign an autograph. The day I’d met David Beckham was still, to this day, the greatest day of my life. And I wasn’t a kid. I’d been eighteen and on the verge of making it onto the Australian international side. He’d come out to Australia to play an exhibition match, and we’d been lucky enough to snag seats. But more than that, our coach at the time had organised for us to be in the change rooms after the game. Sure, we were kept behind a rope and not allowed to approach, but just being that close had been enough for me. Seeing the way his team interacted with each other and conducted themselves as reporters lined up with the same inane questions for more than an hour was definitely something that I carried with me. Where I wanted to roll my eyes and tell them to think of something new, Beckham just kept the smile pasted in place and answered every single one. For me, it was a new way of looking at things. In that moment, he showed me what it took to go from amateur to professional.

  Just when I’d thought it couldn’t get any better, the interviews had ended, and he’d walked straight over to where I was standing and said hi. I almost pissed myself. David Beckham, The David Beckham, was standing in front of me saying hello. I remembered stuttering and embarrassing the fuck out of myself, but he didn’t seem to care. When he called over Robbie Keane, I was done. These guys were my heroes. They may have just lost the game, but that didn’t make them losers in my eyes. Not one little bit.

  Remembering the high I’d felt that night, I realised that’s why I enjoyed the visits to the schools. While I was no Beckham, I’d never even get close to that, but I could try my best. If I could be some kid’s hero, even for a minute, then I got more out of it than they ever could.

  “It was awesome. I don’t know why you don’t do it more often.” I nudged him. It was an argument we had around here often. While I loved doing the visits, it made me nervous who was going to do them when I was gone. At least I knew the club wouldn’t stop them. Which meant one of these bone heads was going to have to man up and take over.

  “Go near those kids? Nah, man, that’s not my thing. Especially when their mums aren’t even there to provide the eye candy.”

  “You’re terrible, you know that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  With a shake of my head, I dropped down on the bench and pulled the tape out of my bag. You knew you were getting old when you had to tape your ankles for training. I’d resisted for a long time, refusing to wrap up for anything but the games, but age, pain, and the physios had caught up with me.

  “All right, ladies. Enough gossiping. I expect everyone out on the field in two minutes ready to go,” Coach barked. Not willing to risk extra laps today, I hurriedly changed into my boots and made my way out onto the field.

  ***

  I lasted four days.

  Four very long days.

  It was Saturday afternoon and I was back at the club preparing for tonight’s game. At least I should’ve been. Instead, I was standing outside Marianne’s office t
rying to find my balls.

  “Are you going to walk a hole in that floor, Conti, or are you going to man up, get in here and beg for whatever favour you want to ask me?”

  “Um…”

  “Conti! Get your arse in here.” Not wanting to risk her wrath, I slipped into her office and dropped into the seat opposite her. “Well, Luca…wanna tell me what bug crawled up your butt?”

  “What makes you think something crawled up my butt?”

  “Come on, Conti. We’ve both got shit to do today. You’ve got a game to play, and I’ve got a schedule to sort,” she said, pointing to the piles of paperwork and coloured pens scattered across her messy desk. “Spill.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I know this sounds dumb, but I need a favour…” I didn’t know why this was so hard, but I was sweating like a whore in a church.

  “Okay.” Marianne dropped her pen and leaned back in her chair.

  “You know the school visit the other day?”

  “Westview Primary School?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “What about it?”

  “There was a teacher there. I was… well.” Shit this was so much harder than I thought.

  “Damn it!”

  “What?”

  “I owe Jessie fifty bucks.”

  “Huh? What’s owing Jessie got to do with…”

  “We saw you with Miss McCoy. That is the teacher we’re talking about here, isn’t it?” I nodded, still completely confused. “He bet you’d be in here asking for her details within a week. I was sure you could hold out for at least ten days.”

  “You… you bet on me?”

  “Or against you, depends on how you want to look at it,” she replied with a shrug.

  “I don’t know if I like you or hate you right now.”

  “Oh, come on, Luca. Don’t be like that. You know you love me. Especially when I have something you want.”

  “I don’t know if I want anything from you.” I pouted, hating that I was the butt of people’s jokes.

  “Not even Miss McCoy’s phone number?” Sometimes I didn’t like having so many women in my life. They seemed to make it their life’s mission to bug the ever-loving crap out of me.

  ***

  The game ended and not a minute too soon. From the time the siren sounded, everything went to shit. Rain bucketed down, and the scoring came hard and fast. Worst thing was it was the other team scoring, not us. We’d had our arses handed to us. Losing four–nil may not sound like a huge loss, but it was humiliating. And on top of that, I’d played like a complete rookie. I’d somehow even managed to get myself a yellow card, my first in two years, for a sloppy tackle.

  Stomping down the tunnel, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with people or bullshit. Spying Arianna and her boys waiting for me, I was forced to swallow down my misery and plaster a fake smile on my face.

  “Uncle Luca!” they exclaimed loudly.

  My teammates pushed past towards the locker room and the showers, the same showers that would more than likely be out of hot water by the time I got there.

  “What are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “We’re not babies, Uncle Luca!”

  “You’re not? Ari, did you know you don’t have babies anymore?”

  “So they keep telling me. Rough night, big brother?”

  “Just another in a long line of rough nights,” I admitted, instantly regretting it. Arianna may have been my little sister but she had one hell of a big mouth.

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I rolled my neck back and forth. Damn I needed a massage or an hour in the sauna or maybe the ice bath to work these aches and pains out of my body. Grateful I didn’t have training or commitments until Tuesday, I planned on laying low, wallowing in my misery and taking advantage of a few very necessary days off to recover. God knows I needed it.

  Wrapping her arms around my waist, Arianna rested her head on my shoulder and sighed heavily. “Take it easy, Luca. You’re not superman. And we don’t expect you to be.”

  “Thanks, Ari. I needed to hear that tonight. More than you could possibly know.” Hugging her back, I kissed her forehead only to hear groaning and fake vomiting from behind me.

  “I’ll let you get cleaned up. I need to take my babies home anyway,” Arianna teased, letting me go.

  A moment later they were gone, leaving me standing there staring down the empty tunnel feeling cold, miserable and alone. I needed to make some changes. I was sick of being this guy. The guy standing on the sidelines of my own life. Changes were coming, and I knew exactly where I was going to start.

  Chapter Four – Elise

  According to the bible, Sunday was the day of rest. Obviously, whoever wrote that wasn’t a single working woman. In my world, Sunday was bullshit. I’d completely wasted Saturday with brunch, clothes shopping, then cocktails which turned into dinner, which led to more drinks and dancing into the early hours of the morning before collapsing into bed. Alone. Now I was nursing the hangover from hell and had a to-do list longer than my arm. Adulting sucked.

  Forcing myself out of bed, I put the kettle on and got into the shower, hoping to wash away the regret. By the time I climbed out, downed a few aspirin, and stuffed a cheese omelette down my throat, I was starting to feel at least human enough to get started.

  Opening up my laptop, I ordered my groceries and tossed a load of washing in the machine. While I waited for it to finish, I folded the last load which I’d dumped on the couch, and stripped my bed.

  Three sweaty hours later and my apartment was spotless. All the washing was done, my bills were paid, and I’d rung my mother. After changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I grabbed my bag and headed out. I had groceries to collect and a few other errands to run, including a trip to the local stationery store. I tried to avoid going there when I could. Stationery was my weakness. I knew the moment I stepped into the store, there was no way I was walking out empty-handed. There’d undoubtedly be pretty Post-it Notes or a sparkly pen that needed to be in my bag.

  “Yo, bitch!”

  “Is that how you say hello?” I asked down the phone.

  “To you, baby girl, absolutely.”

  “Love you too, Jaxson.”

  He blew me a kiss down the line, making me smile widely. This is what I loved most about him. He called me a bitch and blew me a kiss all in the space of thirty seconds.

  “What you up to?”

  “About to grab my groceries and then head home.”

  “Boring!”

  “Well we can’t all be fabulous and lead exciting lives. Some of us have to adult.”

  “Well, I’m avoiding that as long as I can. Sounds like a trap,” he explained. He wasn’t wrong.

  “Yeah well, I’m not getting any younger. Gotta grow up sometime.”

  “Elise McCoy! You’ve just turned twenty-eight. You’re young, you’re hot, and you’re the best person I know. You, my darling, are a freaking catch.”

  “Sounds like you’re writing my personal ad.” I chuckled. He seemed so sure of himself. I wish I believed him.

  “Say the word and I’ll have your profile online within the hour.”

  “Thanks. But I’m not that desperate… not yet anyway.”

  “Well, sweetheart… offer’s always open.”

  “And that’s why I love ya, Jax.”

  “One of the reasons anyway.” I lifted the last of my bags from the trolley into the boot of my car and slammed it shut.

  “Were you just calling to see if I was ready to join the online revolution of desperate and dateless or did you have an actual reason?”

  I loved Jaxson, he was my person, but having an hour-long conversation with him over my pathetic dating life required wine and a bubble bath. I had no interest in having the conversation standing in the middle of a busy car park.

  “Actually, I was ringing to see if you wanted to do dinner tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah
, dinner tonight. You know, that meal normal people eat in a couple of hours’ time.”

  “It’s a school night, Jax,” I reminded him.

  As much as I loved him, there was no way I was giving up my Sunday night. Sunday nights were my me time. It was when I did all those things that us girls never admitted to having to take care of but secretly had pencilled in in our diaries. Tidying up the bikini line. Dying those sparkly silver strands from our hair. Plucking our eyebrows before they turned into a monobrow. And my personal favourite, the one I’d be absolutely mortified if anyone found out this was a thing; dying my moustache. Sometimes being a brunette sucked arse. I doubted my fair-haired friends had to worry about shit like this.

  “Buzz kill.”

  “Well, if you want to come do my ironing for me, I may be able to fit you in…”

  “Ah, no thanks. Fine then, party pooper. Tuesday. You. Me. Dana. Tacos at Tequila Mockingbird. Seven o’clock.”

  Knowing there was no use in arguing, not when Jax was in one of his moods, I agreed and ended the call. Sliding behind the wheel, I managed to shut the door just before the rain came down.

  ***

  Tuesday couldn’t arrive fast enough.

  I hadn’t really been looking forward to dinner with Jax, I hadn’t been looking forward to the inevitable hangover that came with that, both emotional and alcohol induced, but after yesterday, I was more than ready for something stronger than wine. Even my favourite chardonnay didn’t cut it last night. And today, the shit show continued.

  When the bell rang, I seriously considered shoulder charging the kids out of the way and making my escape. I don’t know what caused it, but everything was going wrong and the kids were feral. It wasn’t just my class either. It was down to Alex and Jay for fighting yesterday over a broom. Why they wanted the broom in the first place, I still had no idea. All I knew was neither one had got it, and when Alex clunked Jay on the head with the handle, they both earned themselves a couple of days off with a suspension. Briefly, the idea floated through my mind if I bashed someone on the head with a broom, I could be suspended. A couple of days at home right now sounded like bliss.