The Bad Boy's Redemption. Joss Wood
Will rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I really don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, Kels. This isn’t some little local team I’ll be caretaker coach of. It’s one of the top teams in the premier rugby playing world.’
‘It is,’ Kelby agreed easily. ‘So?’
‘So I’m thirty-four years old, not old enough to be a coach, and I have no experience at all! I only retired from international rugby last season and I don’t want to muck it up!’ Will retorted, shoving his hand into his dark brown hair.
Kelby placed his bottle of beer on a high table and sent him a penetrating look. ‘It’s strange to see you even marginally unhinged. You are probably the calmest, most confident person I know.’
‘I don’t feel too confident at the moment,’ Will admitted.
‘You’ve been unofficial coach of every team you’ve ever played for.’ Kelby replied, his smile wide. ‘I remember that first practice you attended as an eighteen-year-old. You were so full of Kiwi confidence that you told—who was it?—that he was breaking from the scrum too soon.’
Will dropped his head in embarrassment. He’d chirped the then Captain of the England squad and his big mouth had propelled him into a series of initiations by the older players that had quickly taught him to keep his head down and his mouth closed. But Kelby did have a point. Even early in his career he’d had an affinity for telling people what to do.
Rugby was as natural to him as breathing...but coaching? He was a player, not a technician. Kelby kept telling him that he had the assistant coaches for that side of things—a support team who were employed to deal with the technical aspects. His job was to train, to motivate, to strategise, to inspire and to lead. To get results and to win.
But, hey, no pressure.
It was a new ballgame, Will told himself. Something new to conquer. Another challenge to meet. A temporary stop-gap while he decided what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.
Kelby looked contemplative. ‘You know, when I offered you this job it was more with hope than expectation. I know you’ve had other job offers, like commentating, and I also know that your business interests in New Zealand are extensive enough to keep you busy. So why did you accept this job halfway across the world, Will?’
Will shrugged and looked down into the mass of people below. There she was again, her long, lean body dressed in tight jeans and a sparkly emerald-green top. Her elfin face was topped by an ultra-short cap of sun-streaked light brown hair and he wished he could see what colour those light eyes actually were. Blue? Grey? She was talking to the guy she’d spent most of the evening dancing with and he couldn’t quite work out the relationship between them. There was a lot of touching, but no kissing, and he frequently left her to dance with different women.
Even at a distance he could see that the guy had charm and he used it...and the woman didn’t seem to mind. She just perched on her barstool, politely dismissed the guys trying to pick her up and watched the crowd.
‘Will?’
Kelby was still expecting an answer so Will jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and thought about how to answer his question. ‘I just wanted to get out of New Zealand for a while...get away from the constant speculation and conversation about why I retired at the peak of my career. About what I’m going to do, whether I’m ever going to settle down.’
‘Why did you retire at the peak of your career?’
‘Exactly that—because it was the peak. Hopefully when people remember my contribution to New Zealand rugby they’ll remember the last seven years—not the years I spent before that, trying to flush my career and my life down a toilet.’
‘Did you take this job because you felt you owed me?’ Kelby demanded. ‘Because if you did I’ll kick your ass.’
Of course he had. If it hadn’t been for Kelby he wouldn’t have had a rugby career—wouldn’t have captained the team for the past five years, wouldn’t be known as one of the best fullbacks in the sport. Three months of his life spent coaching the Rays wouldn’t even come close to paying his debt.
‘I do owe you.’
Kelby shook his head. ‘You just had your head too far up your own backside and I yanked it out.’
Will shook his head. Only Kelby could describe his self-destructive behaviour so lightly.
‘You repaid your debt to me by straightening out your life. But, like with everything else, you, being you, have to take everything to the nth degree,’ Kelby added, resting his elbows on the railing that overlooked the heaving club below.
Will’s grin faded at Kelby’s serious face. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Both you and Jo became too successful, too young...and it went to your heads. Jo was the bad girl of professional sports, and because you wanted to get into and stay in her pants she pulled you into her crazy lifestyle.’
‘Sex, drugs and rock and roll,’ Will said bitterly. ‘Then I married her.’
‘And, because you’re a competitive SOB you thought that whatever she could do you could do better. God, the press loved you two.’
Thanks to their exploits, they’d sold so many newspapers that the holding companies should have offered them shares, Will thought sourly. They’d fallen into bed within an hour of meeting each other, been married within a month. Theirs had been an instant sexual connection, an adrenaline-filled lust that had been as compelling as it was dangerous.
‘Jo did walk on the wild side and I loved it. The clubbing, the drinking, dallying with recreational drugs.’
Then had come the hell of trying to juggle their schedules to be together, the massive fights when they did meet up, and his slowly dawning realisation that they didn’t have anything keeping them together other than a waning sexual chemistry.
‘But what’s that got to do with being competitive?’
‘After the divorce you wanted to show Jo that you didn’t need her to have a good time. The parties got bigger, there were different girls every night, and you were still making the papers for all the wrong reasons.’
‘Nearly losing my career by pitching up at practice either drunk or constantly hungover. Yes, I remember! You covered for me that entire season. When the management team threatened to fire me you promised them that you could straighten me out, why?’
‘You were too talented to be allowed to mess up your life,’ Kelby stated.
Will shuddered. If Kelby hadn’t stepped up and fought for him to stay employed by the rugby franchise there would’ve been no captaincy, no career.
Damn straight he owed him.
‘But I didn’t think I’d create a Frankenstein! When you finally heard my come-to-the-light talk you went from Mr Wild to Mr Disciplined Control. You hardly drink, you’re rabidly anti-drugs, and you never allow yourself to have a relationship that lasts longer than a night. Maybe two.’
‘The spark usually only lasts that long,’ Will muttered. Bitter experience and a couple of brief affairs had taught him that the hotter the sexual flare of attraction, the quicker the flame died.
‘Fires need to be fed, Will. Your problem is that you think sex fuels a relationship. It doesn’t. Not long-term anyway. Love fuels sex. Maybe if you tried getting to know a woman first before taking her to bed you would actually learn this.’ Kelby sent him a knowing look. ‘Or maybe you do know this and that’s why you limit yourself to one-or two-night stands. You don’t allow yourself to get to know anyone because you don’t want to risk falling in love.’
Why would he want to fall in love? Love was the pits! A rollercoaster ride of hot sex, huge fights and total loss of control. Control...he never lost it. Not any more. Not on the field, not in relationships, never in the bedroom. It reminded him of who he’d been and he didn’t