Free Just My Luck by Rosalind James Page B

time should be right for women’s sport, but somehow we aren’t quite where we’d like to be. What d’you think? Any bright ideas?”
    “I did look the team up online,” she admitted, “and saw the news stories and so forth. It could be this is just me, but it seems like a lot of what you’ve done is more . . . soft news. Fluffy, you know?”
    “Fluffy,” he said slowly.
    “I’m not being critical,” she went on quickly. “Just giving you my impressions.”
    “No, please,” he insisted. “Tell me.”
    “Well, I didn’t see a lot of emphasis on them as athletes,” she said. “It all seemed to be almost glamour pieces. And I thought you said that you were trying to get the sport taken more seriously.”
    “We are,” he said immediately.
    “Well, first thing I’d say, maybe stop having them play in little dresses,” she said with a laugh. “Because that just screams ‘girly non-sport,’ doesn’t it? But you probably can’t do anything about that. So maybe show them in the gym, training, taking part in clinics with schoolgirls, things like that. Emphasizing their skills, even their personalities, as long as it’s their drive, their athleticism you’re talking about. Focusing less on their looks and their personal lives. Because even though netball’s so resolutely non-contact,” she added, “which, along with those dresses, does make it seem a little girly to me, I can tell they do have skills. But it’s almost like you’re scared to show that.”
    Now she wondered. Had that been too blunt? Nate had commented on that aspect of her personality, after all. Even Kristen had, and Kristen rarely said an unkind word about anybody. Ally knew she was pretty direct by North American standards, and in polite New Zealand, she was beginning to realize, she might well qualify as downright abrasive. Had Devon resented her criticism? He hadn’t seemed to at the time, but even though it had seemed like he’d enjoyed himself too, and he’d appeared even more interested than before, the week turned into the weekend without another word, not even a text. So she snatched at her mobile when she saw his name come up on it as she sat eating a late breakfast with Kristen on Saturday.
    “Hi,” she said happily, seeing Kristen’s eyes sharpen on her across the table. Too bad she was working late tonight, Ally thought quickly. She’d have liked to have dinner with him, and that was probably what he was calling to ask about.
    To her surprise, though, it wasn’t. “I was wondering,” he said instead, “if you and Kristen would like to go to the City Market with me tomorrow morning. Do some food shopping, have a look around, a bit of breakfast. It’s a nice outing, and I’d love to talk to both of you before the event next week, get any last-minute thoughts.”
    “Hang on.” Ally felt the disappointment rise. Did he really want to go out with Kristen, then? Was he thinking he could somehow switch roommates? Good luck with that. Kristen wouldn’t do it even if she liked him. Or maybeAlly actually had offended him. No, that couldn’t be it, or why would he be asking her out again at all?
    She gave up on the speculation, pressed the phone against her chest. “Want to go to breakfast with Devon and me tomorrow?” she asked Kristen. “He’s invited both of us.”
    Kristen was shaking her head vehemently. “You’re busy,” she hissed. “Say, ‘sorry, I’m busy.’”
    “What? I’m not, though,” Ally whispered back. “I want to go. Do you?”
    Kristen shook her head again. Ally shrugged, put the phone back to her ear. “Kristen’s busy,” she told Devon. “But I’d love to go.”
    “Why?” she asked Kristen when she’d hung up after making plans to meet Devon near the Market the following morning.
    “He’s calling you Saturday, for Sunday morning,” Kristen pointed out. “After not calling for days.”
    “So?”
    “So he’s telling you you’re not important,” Kristen insisted.