Derek headed across the Hammerheads club car park, his bag slung over his shoulder. It was only a half-day, a wellness check, and a technical session, and he planned on phoning it in, big time. His energy was going into convincing Mara to come over for pizza tonight. He wanted to get her something too. Not jewellery or something ‘big event’, but not lingerie either. Shoes maybe. John Yarding’s wife was a clothes horse. He could ask John if she knew anything a girl like Mara might want.
She’s rich. Why would she want anything from you?
Derek paused. He didn’t give himself shit that often, so he tended to listen when he did. He pressed on the thought, demanding answers.
You can’t get her anything she can’t buy herself.
Maybe, but that wasn’t the point of presents. Besides, Mara probably wasn’t that rich. She had a nice car and a business but that didn’t mean she was made of money. It was good she was comfortable. That she’d been able to look after herself since Albury. Derek hoisted his bag higher and headed into the club.
His wellness check went quickly. Holly, today’s club officer, seemed to be phoning it in too. They’d spent the twenty minutes talking about the Amazon remake of The Lord of The Rings. Holly thought it would be great. Derek had his doubts. He checked his phone as he left the meeting. Nothing from Mara, but he’d send her something after training. A photo maybe. He hadn’t done that yet. His usual policy on nudes was nothing outside of Snapchat, but he could send Mara something. It might show her how serious he was. Especially if he left his face in it. Contemplating the idea, he ran smack-bang into Willow and Kasun.
“Hi there, Derek Hardiman!” Sloan Williams looked like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once.
“What?”
“That’s a bit rude.” Willow turned to Kasun. “Maybe we won’t tell him, eh?”
“Fine.” Derek headed for his locker. To his irritation, Willow followed. “Had any big news in the last forty to forty-five minutes, chief?”
“No.”
“He doesn’t know,” Willow whispered to Kasun. “He doesn’t have a clue.”
Derek pulled his hoodie over his head. “You two end up fucking the same girls last Saturday, or what?”
Kasun looked away, but Willow stood his ground. “This isn’t about us, Hardo. This is about you. Word on the street is you’ve got a missus and that maybe, just maybe, it’s true love.”
Michael Tully and Ben Winthrop were paying attention now, smirking in a way that said they also knew something he didn’t. Derek turned to his bag and pulled out his compression tights. Willow would crack eventually. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
“Don’t you want to know what’s going on?” he asked, right on cue.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Depends. What’s in it for me?”
Derek glared at his mate. Whatever the payoff of this gag was, it was big enough that Willow wasn’t spilling. He looked at Kasun. “What’s happened?”
Willow flung an arm across his chest. “Don’t tell him, Kasun.”
Derek kept his gaze on the big man. “Mate, don’t let this go too far now.”
Willow glared at him. “You coward, targeting the weak! Appealing to Big K’s better nature! How dare you?”
“Mate?”
The big guy squirmed. “There’s some—”
“Ah-Ah-Ah—”
“—pictures of you in the Daily Mail” Kasun finished as Willow punched him in the gut. “You fuckin’ ginger weasel!”
“The Mail?” Derek looked around at his teammates. “What pictures? When?”
They smirked at him like smug cunts, giving him nothing. Derek glared at Kasun who had Willow in a headlock. “What pictures?”
“You. Pictures of you,” he said, red in the face from trying to contain Willow. “You. Kissing. Your. Girl.”
Derek’s stomach dropped. “How?”
Willow escaped from the hold like a cork from a bottle. “With a camera, mate. I mean, probably.”
“Fucking hell.” He sat back on a bench and pulled out his phone.
Willow bounded forward, his phone in hand. “Allow me.”
He showed him the screen. The picture beneath The Daily Mail banner was crystal clear—him, kissing Mara in the hoodie he’d just taken off. She looked gorgeous. She also looked like she’d spent the night getting fucked, her hair was all mussed up and she had a red spot on her neck that had to have come from his stubble. “Fuck me…”
“There’s more!” Willow swiped right and he saw another photo, another kiss.
“And more!”
Another swipe. Now he was facing the camera, his hoodie pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. He stared at himself in horror. Kissing was one thing, but that fucking smile.
Willow poked a finger into his cheek. “Oh, hey, dimples. Guess who’s in love?”
His teammates burst out laughing. This was clearly the moment they’d been waiting for. Derek ducked his head. Fucking paps. He hadn’t seen anyone taking pictures but he never thought he was famous enough to get stalked.
“Ten thousand likes and counting,” Willow said. “Did you do it on purpose, Hardo? Trying to get your profile up?”
Logan Cloak threw a sock at Willow. “He’s not you, Sloan.”
Brady Shore grinned. “Yeah, Willow looks around his driveway every morning praying someone’s up for stalking him.”
Derek joined in on the laughter. Willow deserved it.
“Oi, everyone, look at this,” Willow shouted over more attempts to shit-talk him. He held the smiling photo high, and everyone stopped to look at it again.
“Fuck, that’s cute,” Brady said. “You do have dimples, Hardo.”
He punched Willow in the side. “Everyone’s seen it! Enough.”
Willow stood on the bench, hoisting his phone higher. “This whole thing is adorable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so much like you don’t want to kill yourself. And your missus is mint.”
Mara. His stomach dropped another notch. They’d taken her picture. They might already have her name. So much for keeping things low-key…
He shoved Willow’s leg. “Don’t talk about my missus.”
The change room door opened and John Yarding walked in. He looked at Willow, who was still standing on the bench waving his phone about, and sighed. “What’s all this?”
“There’s pictures of Hardo in The Daily Mail,” Willow said before Derek could stop him.
Yarding grinned. “What’re you doing this time?”
“Have a look,” Willow said, tossing him his phone.
Yarding scratched his head. “The Mail’s posting pictures of Hardo smiling now?”
“Keep swiping.”
Yarding moved a finger across the screen. “Oh yeah. What’s her name? What’s her sign? Where’s she from?”
Derek shook his head. “Mind your wax, Captain. That goes for all you boys.”
“They’ll find out,” Willow warned. “They’ll have her Instagram by the end of the day.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. Mara didn’t have Instagram. But he did need to call her and tell her what was going on. He checked his phone. Five minutes until their session started. It would have to wait until later. Hopefully she didn’t find out on her own. The odds were pretty good. Only fuckheads like Willow followed The Mail.
“Derek?!”
He looked up to see Willow’s big red face hovering in front of him. Scowling, he pulled back. “What?”
“Bring your lady-friend to my barbecue this weekend.”
“It’s a bit soon.”
“Bring her next weekend.”
“We’re playing in Perth.”
The big redhead rolled his eyes. “Fine, after that. Whenever.”
“We’ll see.”
Willow sulked off. Derek watched him go with relief. The funny thing was, he could see him and Mara rolling up to Willow’s with a bottle of wine. She was shy, but something about her came alive at parties. If things went well, maybe they could host next year. As a single guy who wasn’t Willow, he’d never done it, but it might be nice having everyone over. He could barbecue and Mara could chill out and drink. Or maybe she’d want to make food. She’d done that for his nineteenth birthday and it had been amazing, all those homemade sausage rolls and—
“Hardiman?”
Derek blinked. John Yarding was standing over him. The two of them were alone in the change rooms. “What’s up?”
“You okay? Not rattled or anything?”
“Nah, I’m fine, Cap” he said, feeling like an idiot. “See you out there.”
The training was rote. His recovery session was grueling, and Mike the physiotherapist was pissed at him for not icing it enough. “You need to get more recovery in tomorrow. Walk. Bike. Yoga.”
He agreed, his mind on Mara. It was midday and the odds she hadn’t heard about The Mail photos were shrinking. Normally he’d have stuck around for lunch and a massage, but he needed to call her, and he didn’t want to do it anywhere Willow might pop up and start singing ‘Senorita.’ He did an Irish goodbye, ducking out a side door and into the car park. He had missed two calls. One from Howard and, weirdly, Hannah English. He ignored them both, climbing into the driver’s seat and ringing Mara. To his relief, she picked up after two rings.
“Hello?”
Relief flooded him. She sounded okay. Or at least she didn’t sound like she’d been crying.
“Hey, Little Miss. How are you? How’s your puppy?”
“Pan’s fine. I’ve been out to lunch with Chase. Have you seen…?”
“The pictures?” He swore softly. “I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I had no idea someone was out there.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. At least they don’t have my name. I’m ‘Derek Hardiman’s mystery babe.’”
He laughed. “I’m glad you’re not pissed at me, but I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want us to go public.”
There was a short pause. “Derek, I can’t go public.”
“What?”
“I can’t have my picture in gossip stuff. People can’t know who I am.”
Derek frowned. “I… whaddya mean?”
“It’s one of those things we haven’t talked about yet, but I can’t have my new name tied to yours.”
“Why?”
There was a long rustling sound, as though Mara was moving around wherever she was. Then her voice came more quietly. “Because if the media tie me to you, people can work out my old name. And then everything can come up again.”
For a second, he had no idea what she meant. Then it hit him—her parents. Her past. “Fucking hell, I didn’t think about that.”
A small sniff drove everything from Derek’s mind. “Baby, are you crying?
“Sorry,” she whispered. “This is so full-on. I think I was followed from your place.”
“Shit.” Derek pressed a knuckle to his forehead. “What did you see?”
“I didn’t see anything, but Chase saw a guy in a green car waiting behind mine when we left the restaurant—he was taking pictures with a fancy camera. If he followed me from your house, he knows where I live and where Pan’s vet is… Maybe it’s nothing, but I just want to get away. It’s so scary to think someone’s watching me.”
A man spoke in the background of Mara’s line.
“Sorry, that’s Chase. We’re at HFA. I’m thinking about going away for a few days with Pan until this thing blows over.”
“I know a place,” he said without thinking. “We can go there now. Today.”
“Oh… Where?”
“My mate Jay has a house in Daylesford, and I’ve got a key. We can head out there and stay a couple of nights if you want.”
There was a short silence.
“What did he say?” Chase demanded.
“That he knows a place in Daylesford where we could go,” Mara said, and Derek’s heart swelled. This was sounding good.
“Is that what you want to do?” Chase asked.
Say yes, he thought. Come on, baby. Say yes.
“I think so.”
Mara spoke directly into the phone. “Derek, um, would you be coming with me? I don’t want to be annoying, but it would be great to have some company. I think I’m too freaked out to drive.”
Derek silently punched the air. “I’ll drive. We can head there tonight—now, if you want?”
“Can I talk to him?” Chase demanded.
Derek expected her to tell him to fuck off but there was a short pause and Chase came on the line. “Hello? Mr Football?”
Derek scowled. “Yeah, hi. Can I talk to Mara?”
“No. Have you been followed, to the best of your knowledge? By photographers, I mean?”
“Not that I know of. Why… where’s Mara?”
Chase paused long enough to let him know he was a cunt. “Mara, maybe you could…?”
To his amazement, Mara called, “I’ll be back soon, Derek.”
He heard a door slam. “Did Mara just leave?”
“Yes. Now we need to have a little talk, Derek.”
“About?”
“Mara. And this trip. Will you be able to stay with her for as long as she needs? You don’t have training or a game or something?”
“Nah, it’s a bye this weekend and my contact days at the club are done. Plus my coach is pretty good about me going to ground when stuff like this happens.”
Derek didn’t know why he was explaining so much, but it was hard to stop.
“And you didn’t know about the photographer?”
“No. I’m not happy about this either, by the way. I don’t like getting papped.”
Another prolonged pause. Derek gritted his teeth. This was like negotiating a date via someone’s asshole dad. He hadn’t had to deal with any of this with Mara’s grandma. But then Mara’s grandma had been off in her own world most of the time. Not much of a protector. His irritation melted. Chase was annoying but he cared about Mara, and Mara deserved people who cared. He inhaled. “Look, I’ll get her away safely, mate. I promise. I’m taking this seriously.”
There was a short pause. “I’m glad.”
“And I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m one hundred percent serious about Mara.”
“Compelling.”
“I love her.”
“You what?”
Derek grinned at the car park. It was nice to shock the American for once. “I love her. I know you’re her mate and you’re looking out for her, but this isn’t a crush or whatever. We’ve known each other for ages. We were together at school and—”
“Yes, I know your history.”
“Yeah, well I love her. I always have. I want to marry her if I can.”
“Jesus. These fucking heterosexuals.” Chase cleared his throat. “Does Mara know that?”
“I’m… I’m trying to tell her.”
A beat of silence. “You know she’s decided never to be anyone’s girlfriend ever again? Let alone their wife?”
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t think it would be easy.”
He laughed. “Well good luck. You’ll need it.”
I was born lucky, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Only the American could pull off lines like that.
“So, I’ll come pick Mara up from your office?” he asked.
“I thought, maybe a bar?” Chase’s voice had changed. He didn’t sound like her dad anymore. “I’m going to Mara’s to get her some clothes. You can meet her and Pan at The Rose Hotel. Do you know the place?”
“Big, old pub on the corner of Smith? Shitty brick walls?”
“Yeah, they let you have dogs in the beer garden. Mara can wait for you there.”
“Okay. Sure. The Rose at five.”
Chase hung up and Derek stared at his steering wheel. He’d told the American he loved Mara. He’d known it the second he’d seen her again, but it was something to say it to someone else.
He grinned, then looked around to make sure no one could see him. He’d have to watch his smiling from here on out. Seeing he was alone, he cranked up The Rolling Stones and tore out of the car park to ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’ He needed to go pack his bag. Get his second car. Get a fuckload of condoms and wine. He was going away with Mara and he was coming home with a girlfriend.