Read Online Playing with the Prop: (Rugby erotic romance)(Strathstow Sharks) by Mina Carter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mina Carter
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would have risked incurring their wrath, and would send Coach purple with rage. At the very least, he’d be off the line-up and on the subs’ bench for a few games, which was something all the players desperately wanted to avoid. Thanks to the brutal nature of the sport, each game they ran the gauntlet of injury that could keep them off the pitch for a game or so at best. At worst, it could kill, or end their careers. Game time was a precious thing jealously guarded.
“Seriously,” Tom carried on, jogging lightly as he reached his position. “She’s single. You want her? Make a move before someone else does.”
Harry cut a glance over to the lady in question. Last he’d heard, she was seeing another physio, not one with the team but from the last place she worked. What happened? He hadn’t noticed her looking sad… Perhaps it had been an amicable breakup? Amicable meant no broken heart to heal before he made his move. Hell yeah. A man could work with that.
A slow grin spread over his lips as the heads up was called for the kick off. The whistle blew, and then he was running, an extra kick racing through his veins. Today was going to be a good day. He felt it in his bones.
***
The lads were playing well. Really well. Minutes into the second half, they were just behind the other team on the score-board, but everyone had known this was going to be a close game. The Sherwood Saints were top of the league, but the Sharks had plans to knock them off the top spot.
Ashley crouched at the side of the pitch, one hand on her medic-bag, and watched the players with an eagle eye. There were four physio’s on the main team, and two in reserve for the subs' bench and replacements, then the main medical team for more serious injuries. She shuddered at the thought. She’d only had to deal with one bad one—a full knocked out, spinal board injury and rush to hospital job—but that had been years ago. She hoped that trend continued. There was no way she wanted any of the team injured and especially not her guys.
She switched her attention, seeking out the three players she was assigned to watch. Stewart, Blair and James. Her gaze held on the last, and she watched him take a pass and run full tilt at the opposition line. Three tried to take him down, but he kept on running with defenders hanging off his powerful frame. It was only when a fourth joined the fray that he hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
She held back the wince and waited anxiously as the other Sharks piled in to defend. James was just visible at the bottom of the pile. She could see an arm, bent defensively over where his head must be. Her teeth worried at her lower lip. So many boots so close to his face. She’d never get used to patching up blood injuries from kicks sustained in the ruck.
Broken noses were common, as were lacerations, some real deep. It made her tense just thinking about it, especially when James was in that position right now. Fear for him held her in an iron grip, but then Peters, the scrum half, was in place to dig for the ball. She breathed a sigh of relief as it came free and was passed on.
Ignoring the fact play had resumed, she kept her eye on the men on the ground as they rolled away from the pile. She only had James in her sights, but like the other physio’s with marked men in the altercation, she needed to make sure he got back to his feet and didn’t need treatment. He was slow to move. A frown creased her brow. Crap. Lying like that when the rest had moved wasn’t James’ style. Normally, he was up and running like some freakishly big Jack in the box. Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag. Those few extra seconds could mean he was winded, or worse, had taken a kick to the head.
Shit. Squinting, she tried to make out some details. No blood that she could see, but she’d always told James he had thick skin. He tended to bruise rather than get cut. And he had a thick skull. She’d seen him take blows that
“Seriously,” Tom carried on, jogging lightly as he reached his position. “She’s single. You want her? Make a move before someone else does.”
Harry cut a glance over to the lady in question. Last he’d heard, she was seeing another physio, not one with the team but from the last place she worked. What happened? He hadn’t noticed her looking sad… Perhaps it had been an amicable breakup? Amicable meant no broken heart to heal before he made his move. Hell yeah. A man could work with that.
A slow grin spread over his lips as the heads up was called for the kick off. The whistle blew, and then he was running, an extra kick racing through his veins. Today was going to be a good day. He felt it in his bones.
***
The lads were playing well. Really well. Minutes into the second half, they were just behind the other team on the score-board, but everyone had known this was going to be a close game. The Sherwood Saints were top of the league, but the Sharks had plans to knock them off the top spot.
Ashley crouched at the side of the pitch, one hand on her medic-bag, and watched the players with an eagle eye. There were four physio’s on the main team, and two in reserve for the subs' bench and replacements, then the main medical team for more serious injuries. She shuddered at the thought. She’d only had to deal with one bad one—a full knocked out, spinal board injury and rush to hospital job—but that had been years ago. She hoped that trend continued. There was no way she wanted any of the team injured and especially not her guys.
She switched her attention, seeking out the three players she was assigned to watch. Stewart, Blair and James. Her gaze held on the last, and she watched him take a pass and run full tilt at the opposition line. Three tried to take him down, but he kept on running with defenders hanging off his powerful frame. It was only when a fourth joined the fray that he hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
She held back the wince and waited anxiously as the other Sharks piled in to defend. James was just visible at the bottom of the pile. She could see an arm, bent defensively over where his head must be. Her teeth worried at her lower lip. So many boots so close to his face. She’d never get used to patching up blood injuries from kicks sustained in the ruck.
Broken noses were common, as were lacerations, some real deep. It made her tense just thinking about it, especially when James was in that position right now. Fear for him held her in an iron grip, but then Peters, the scrum half, was in place to dig for the ball. She breathed a sigh of relief as it came free and was passed on.
Ignoring the fact play had resumed, she kept her eye on the men on the ground as they rolled away from the pile. She only had James in her sights, but like the other physio’s with marked men in the altercation, she needed to make sure he got back to his feet and didn’t need treatment. He was slow to move. A frown creased her brow. Crap. Lying like that when the rest had moved wasn’t James’ style. Normally, he was up and running like some freakishly big Jack in the box. Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag. Those few extra seconds could mean he was winded, or worse, had taken a kick to the head.
Shit. Squinting, she tried to make out some details. No blood that she could see, but she’d always told James he had thick skin. He tended to bruise rather than get cut. And he had a thick skull. She’d seen him take blows that
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