The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

He shrugged and attempted to look unconcerned. “I knew I’d regret telling you my middle name. And no, I’m not seeing anyone.”


“Your dad named you after Thelonious Monk, that’s a bloody cool middle name. But seriously, you’re not hiding a girl somewhere?”

“You got me. Smuggled her in my suitcase. Don’t tell airport security.”

I gave him a narrowed-eyed grin just before my phone started ringing. My heart pounded for a second, like it always did as I wondered if it might be Sean. But no, I pulled it out to see my mam’s number flashing on the screen.

Taking a few steps outside the cosmetics section of the duty free, I lifted the phone to my ear and answered.

“Hi Mam. I’m just at the airport now. We’ll be boarding our flight soon.”

“Lucy, what’s all this I’m hearing about you staying at Ronan’s house?” she asked in a shrill voice.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a second, wishing away this entire conversation. “It’s just easier since I’m Annie’s maid of honor and everything. There’s going to be a ton of last-minute stuff to organize. And we’ll be staying at the K Club from Thursday onward, so it’s not like it matters much either way.”

“Yes, well, you could’ve at least let me know. I had Bernie make up the spare bedroom and everything, thinking you’d be staying with me, then I have to hear from your brother that you’re not. Nobody tells me anything these days,” she said, a note of disdain to her words as she tried to affect a hurt tone. Bernie was her housekeeper, though she called him her manservant. You’d swear she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and not to the humble beginnings she’d actually had.

“I’m sorry. I would have told you but it completely slipped my mind. Things have been crazy busy over here.”

“Of course they have. I suppose you’ve been spending every waking minute working in front of a computer, not giving a thought to your poor, neglected social life. If you stay indoors all day you’ll get a terrible, pasty complexion, Lucy.”

Good Lord, she had no idea what I did all day, nor how half my work involved chasing after celebrities with a camera in hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be doing enough socializing at the wedding to make up for it,” I said in an effort to placate her.

Now her voice grew animated. “Speaking of which, there’s someone I’ve just been dying for you to meet—”

“Oh, they’re calling for my flight to board,” I said, interrupting her. “I’ve got to go but I’ll call you as soon as we land.”

Hanging up, I exhaled a breath, anxiety building at the idea of being forced to meet a bunch of “suitors” at the wedding that my mother happened to approve of. The funny thing was, she’d probably be head over heels for Sean, even though his past history with Ronan was a mess.

Speak of the devil, the moment I ended the call my phone buzzed with an incoming text.



Sean: I’ll meet you at the airport and take you for breakfast?



My heart thudded at his suggestion, and I hated how text messages never conveyed the tone in which things were said. Like, was it a casual, can I meet you at the airport? Or an urgent, I will meet you at the airport!

Was he asking because he was desperate to see me as soon as I stepped foot on Irish soil, or was he simply trying to be helpful?

Gah! I hated the uncertainty of this feelings business. Hated it. I suddenly understood why Buddhist monks were celibate. You couldn’t find Zen when you were all muddled up in the head. Sex just complicated everything.

Lucy: Annie and Ronan are meeting us. But thanks for offering. It was very kind.



Directly after I sent the text I regretted everything about it, because reading it back, I sounded cold and detached. I should have tacked a bloody smiley face on the end or something, a few kisses maybe.

Sean didn’t respond, and by the time I was sitting on the plane I had a brand new toothbrush, eye cream, a hair clip, and a packet of chewing gum in my carry-on bag—not a single one of them paid for.

My guilt was the cherry on top. I wished I could go back and return everything, tell the shop workers I was sorry. But no, life didn’t give you second chances like that, and if I went back I’d be arrested. I was a bloody mess.

As soon as we landed in Dublin, I checked my phone to see Sean had left me a new text.



Sean: I don’t want to make things hard for you with your brother.



I frowned at the message, trying to decipher the deeper meaning—if there was a deeper meaning. My concentration, however, was fractured when we stepped through the arrivals gate and were met with a dour-faced Ronan and an unusually quiet Annie.

They each hugged me and Broderick before we walked to the car park, but I sensed something was up. When we were finally buckled into the car, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, spill the beans. What’s going on with you two?”