Playing with the Prop: (Rugby erotic romance)(Strathstow Sharks) by Mina Carter Read Free Book Online

right goer by all accounts. Said she was well up for it.”
    Her heart sank, nausea rising. So it had been just a thing for him. Why else would he tell the other players about their night? She pressed a hand to her mouth as tears prickled at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t stay and look each player in the eyes, knowing what they knew. Knowing that Harry had bragged about her in the locker room hit her like a punch in the stomach. She’d never known him do that before. Ever. He’d always been the sole of discretion. Except, it seemed, with her.
    Grabbing her clipboard, she started for the door, determined to find John, head of the medical team, and tell him she felt ill. The winter vomiting bug was going around, she could claim she felt sick—which she did, but not for that reason. He’d send her home quick-smart, rather than risk infecting half the squad.
    Her steps slowed, and then stopped as anger filtered through the sick feeling in her stomach. No. Fuck it. She’d done nothing wrong. She was an adult, so was Harry. It wasn’t her fault if he couldn’t behave like it. Slamming the clipboard on the counter at the side of the room, she set about making up the treatment couch with swift, angry movements. If he wanted to play it that way, then fine. As far as she was concerned, Harry James and his gossipy, tight, firm backside no longer existed. Lips compressed in a tight line, she grabbed her kit bag and left the room.
    The corridor was empty, thankfully. Head held high, she marched toward the pitch. Squinting as she emerged, her gaze went to the players running around for their warm up. Harry was easy to spot, his back to her as she took her place by the side of the pitch. The other physio’s nodded, but no one attempted conversation this early in a morning. Most needed their regular caffeine intake before they communicated in more than a grunt. She let out a small sigh of relief. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
    She’d spoken too soon. The first of the players rounded the corner of the pitch and spotted her. His grin was wide and far too knowing as he jogged by, but it was the wink that clinched it. She froze, a half-smile on her face as her stomach lurched. Even players in the main squad knew. Folding her arms, she watched the warm-up, concentrating on arms, legs…anything but faces as she waited for practice to be over so that she could escape.
    Escape, go home, and kick seven bells out of her lounge cushions. Then cry herself into oblivion before hitting the ice-cream.
    Who needed men anyway? Bastards, the lot of them.
     
    ***
     
    Something was wrong. Very wrong.
    As soon as Harry saw the set of Ashley’s shoulders, he knew something was up. The defensive curve was all wrong, as was the way she avoided eye contact with everyone. Including him. Throughout practice, he tried to get in her line of sight, but she turned away each time. Not enough for him to worry at first, but then he managed to get direct eye contact.
    She stared right through him.
    Fucking hell. Shock coursed through him, freezing him long enough for him to miss a pass, the ball hitting him mid-chest and falling to the ground.
    “Fucks sake, James… What’s up with you?” Tom growled as he stormed past. All Harry could do was shake his head and try and get back in the game. Practice crawled by, the longest he’d ever known it to feel. Every so often, he glanced Ashley’s way, but she ignored him.
    Every. Single. Time.
    What the hell was up with that? So she’d had her fun, and that was that? Women weren’t supposed to pull shit like that. Being a dickhead was supposed to be a solely male preserve. Anger and frustration simmered as he concentrated on practice, ignoring her in turn as the players filed off the pitch. He wasn’t scheduled in for work, so he had no reason to head to the treatment rooms, but he found his steps slowing as he reached them.
    The door to Ashley’s room was already closed. He