Free Redemption: A British Stepbrother Romance by Jessica Ashe

could have won my country the World Cup?”
    “Yeah. It’s just one of those things.”
    “Thank you for saying that.”
    Michelle smiled at me; for one beautiful moment our eyes met and then she looked away again, back at Maisie. Michelle insisted she didn’t blame me for what happened to Maisie, but she should. It was my fault. Not because I didn’t walk them home that evening. I was guilty of far more than just not being a gentleman.
    Michelle took hold of her rugby shirt and tugged it a few times to let some air underneath. The suite was a bit warm and she had a long sleeve shirt on with her normal top underneath.
    “You should have bought the short sleeve shirt,” I said. “It’s too hot for the long sleeve one. Why don’t you take it off?”
    Michelle looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Is that how you usually get women out of their clothes?’
    “Usually they’re peeling their clothes off long before I get the chance to open my mouth.”
    “Well, I think I’ll just break with tradition and keep it on.”
    “Suit yourself.” Probably for the best. The image of Michelle peeling off a layer of clothing might be too much for me right now.
    Maisie came back in from outside and asked the waiter for a beer. The waiter looked straight to me with a questioning glance, and I then turned to Michelle.
    Michelle sighed. “You can have one beer and that’s it.”
    I laughed when I saw the look of pleasant surprise on Maisie’s face. She hadn’t been expecting to get away with that one.
    “And I’ll have a glass of white wine please,” Michelle added as the waiter was on his way out.
    “I’d better go and show my face before the coach wonders where I am.”
    “Olly?” Maisie asked before I left. “I never got your signature.”
    “That’s sweet, Maisie, but you don’t need to try and make me feel better.”
    “I want it,” she said. She handed me the pen she’d kept from before and asked me to sign on her back by the upper right shoulder. “You get one too, Michelle. That shirt will be worth a fortune once he’s signed it.”
    “Oliver needs to get a move on,” Michelle said.
    “Nonsense,” I replied. I resisted the temptation to ask if Michelle wanted me to sign on a breast and went to write my name on her shoulder in the same place I’d done it for Maisie. I rested my hand on her back and felt the heat from her body. She was burning up under that shirt, but was too stubborn to take it off.
    I could smell a hint of citrus in her hair, and desperately wanted to run my fingers through it. As the pen touched her shoulder, I noticed a slight, almost imperceptible, shiver run up her spine. Was that a reaction to my touch? I’d wanted to get a reaction from her, but a cold shiver wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for.
    I finished signing Michelle’s shirt and handed the pen back to Maisie. “Have fun ladies.”
    One thing I’d never lacked on the pitch was motivation. Ever since my return to the game after the 2007 final, I’d needed to prove myself to everyone: my teammates, the fans, and myself. Now I had an added incentive.
    Two people who meant the world to me would be sitting in the crowd. No matter what happened, today I would be giving it everything I had.

Chapter Eleven
Michelle
    W atching Oliver play rugby was even more terrifying than watching Maisie play. None of the girls Maisie played against came close to the size of the forwards charging down Oliver at every opportunity.
    The pace of the game stayed fast and intense throughout the entire eighty minutes, so Oliver never held on to the ball for longer than two seconds at a time. He would receive a pass and then either pass it sideways to a teammate or kick it down the field. Either way, he got charged down by someone who weighed well over two hundred pounds.
    Tackles were a constant occurrence, but to me at least, the ones involving Oliver tended to have a little more crunch. Every time he hit the floor, there were a few