Brody cheered the team, shouting out his displeasure at good plays by the opposition. As the game went on, he continued to explain the intricacies of the plays and by the time it ended, Payton actually could follow each play as it developed on the field.
The Dockers lost, but Brody didn’t appear to be too upset by the result. In truth, he seemed to be quite happy that they’d come. Payton wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked out of the stadium.
“Brody Quinn!”
They stopped and Brody turned, then smiled as an older gentleman approached them dressed in a polo shirt with the Fremantle team logo stitched on the chest.
“Simon. How are you?”
“I’m well. You look grand. Healthy. Keeping fit, I see.”
“Trying,” Brody said, rubbing his abdomen. He turned to Payton. “Simon, this is Payton Harwell. Payton, this is the team doctor, Simon Purvis. He helped me through my rehab.”
Simon held out his hand and Payton took it. “Pleasure,” he said. “Did you enjoy the game?”
“I did,” Payton said. “It’s a little rougher than I expected, but it was fun to watch.”
“We’re a tough lot here in Oz.” Simon grinned. “So, you’re from America. I recognize the accent.”
“I am,” Payton said.
“Where do you call home?”
“Connecticut. Though I live in Manhattan. New York City?”
“Ah. New York Giants. New York Jets. Interesting. Almost bizarre, that.”
“What?” Brody asked.
“I just met a scout for the Americans. For their NFL. He’s come looking for kickers. I wasn’t about to send any of our guys to see him. But you might want to give him a tingle, Brody.”
“No,” Brody said. “I’m in no condition to play.”
“There’s the thing,” Simon said. “It’s a different game. At least for kickers and punters. All you have to do is kick. They put the ball down and you kick it through the posts. Or you drop-kick it. They call that punting. Once or twice, they might knock you down, but if they touch you while you’re kicking, it’s a penalty. Brody, you’ve got a way with that foot of yours. It would be a shame to see it go to waste.”
Payton turned to Brody, trying to read his expression. But she could see nothing that indicated how he felt. She expected him to be happy, or at least curious about the possibility. “I don’t know. I was going to look into that surgery you told me about, but I’m not sure I-”
“You might not need the surgery,” Simon said. “You don’t have to carry the ball. There’s no cutting or quick direction shifts. You might have to tackle, but that’s really not your job.” He paused. “I can ring him up, if you like. I’m sure he’d be interested in seeing you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Brody said.
“Don’t think too long,” Simon warned. “He’s only going to be here for a few weeks and then he’s back to the States.”
Brody shook Simon’s hand, and as they walked back to the car, he was strangely silent. Payton wasn’t sure whether he wanted her opinion on the matter, and decided to wait for him to speak first. But when he didn’t, she decided to start the conversation. “That was interesting,” she said. “But what is a tingle? And why do you have to give this guy one?”
“A phone call,” he explained. “You know, there have been a couple of Aussies that have gone over to play in America. One was a kicker. He did pretty well.”
“Do you want to play again?”
“Sure. But Aussie football is what I do.”
“Have you ever seen an American game?”
“The Super Bowl once or twice. I never really paid much attention.” He shook his head. “It’s a crazy idea. They’re not going to want anything to do with me once they see my knee.”
“Maybe you could wear long pants. And show them how you can kick first, before you tell them about your injury.”
Brody chuckled. “That might work. But the first thing they’re going to ask is whether I’ve been seriously injured.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to the guy,” Payton said.
Brody opened the door of the car for her and helped her inside. “I’ll think about it.”
As they made their way out of the parking lot, Brody was lost in his thoughts. He held her hand, his fingers woven through hers, and every now and then, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, as if to remind himself she was still there.
Payton drew a deep breath and then relaxed back into the seat. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the possibility of him moving to the States. Here in Australia, she was the visitor. If things didn’t work out, she could always leave. But having Brody in the U.S. seemed like such a serious shift in their relationship.
It was silly to worry over it now, though. When she had to make a choice, she’d make a choice. And until then, she intended to enjoy her time with Brody.
BRODY STARED at the ceiling above the bed in the early-morning light. Sleep hadn’t come easily for him, though he and Payton had exhausted themselves making love before she’d curled up in his arms and drifted off.
Instead, his head was filled with thoughts about the day’s revelations. His life had taken so many sharp turns lately, he shouldn’t be surprised at this one. Playing in America would give him a chance to get his life set up again. He’d be working, making a decent salary. He could save his money, instead of blowing it on expensive toys and exotic vacations. He’d have something to offer Payton then. But the chances of getting a job in the U.S. were slim, especially considering his injury.
Brody rolled over onto his side and stared at her. Her hand was curled next to her face, her hair tumbled over her shoulder. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. There were moments when he believed he’d never be able to do without her, that waking up with her by his side and falling asleep with her in his arms was the only thing that mattered.
He reached out and smoothed his hand over her hip, her skin like silk beneath his fingertips. How was it that she suited him so perfectly? Whether they were living on the station or here in Fremantle, their lives seemed to mesh flawlessly.
He’d had his share of high-maintenance women-girls like Vanessa, who’d demanded far too much and offered far too little. They’d been extras in his life, like fast cars and expensive electronics, something to acquire and then grow bored with over time.
But he’d never felt as if he’d acquired Payton. She’d appeared in his life one day and decided to stay. He was well aware that she might choose to leave at any time. He wasn’t in control of this relationship, she was. And maybe that’s what kept the boredom at bay.
He was almost afraid to believe they might make it work. He’d always assumed he’d find the right woman, but he’d imagined it would happen at a distant point in the future, not now. She was the right woman. Brody was fairly certain of that.
So what was required to keep her? He needed a way to support them both, to give her a comfortable lifestyle. Without a job, he could give her four or five years. With a job, maybe a lifetime. And he needed to make sure her fiance was out of her life for good. He ought to encourage her to contact her parents and smooth out the problems there. And then he needed to plead his case to her family.
Hell, they’d probably be suspicious of him from the start. He didn’t come from some blueblood line with money coming out of his arse. He was a working-class bloke without a proper education. But he had one thing going for him-there wasn’t another man in the world who loved Payton more than he did.
He drew a deep breath. He loved her. It was that simple. Brody gasped, stunned by the revelation.
But how did she feel? Payton had been silent on that issue. She seemed content to just go along as they were- lovers, friends, companions. She lived in the present, avoiding any discussion of what was to come.
Why was that? Brody wondered. Was it because she thought their relationship had no future? Or was it because she didn’t want to face returning to her fiance and family? If she truly loved him, she would have given him some hint by now. Every other woman he’d known was ready to profess love after the second date.
