motions all over the place, by losing herself completely in Ant’s honesty and unexpected chivalry, and then forgetting what mattered in his rough kisses and heavy hands. She shouldn’t have liked what he did so much. He’d used his size to move her around like she was a puppet. He’d used his confidence to appeal to her. And she’d let him. She could’ve stopped him at any time, she knew how to hit to hurt, but his sudden interest had thrilled her, made her blood pump fast and her senses fly off into the sunshine. She’d wanted that exasperating man’s hands on her body and his tongue in her mouth. And she’d wanted more. She’d wanted clothes off and lips on, and a lost weekend of sensation and experimentation where she could be her whole self finally without judgement.
But that wasn’t going to happen. No way, no how, not freaking likely. And much as she wanted to blame Ant for starting something she couldn’t finish, she knew that wasn’t fair. She was the one who’d jumped the starter’s whistle. But the jam between them had to be a onetime only thing, a bout best forgotten, because to continue to play was a fast, flat track to career headache and certain heartache.
Bree flinched as a cherry popper took a particularly teeth rattling spill, her face showing how much it hurt, but the skater got to her feet and kept moving. That’s what she had to do. Push her confusion, anger and embarrassment about how G-man affected her aside and keep moving. And what Kitty needed to do was get out on the track, show the other side who was boss and forget about being Bree, a girl who’d lost her head over a man who trained in smashing hearts.
·
The trackside commentator announced the break between bouts and Ant was surprised to realise he’d zoned out for the last hour. Roller derby wasn’t the kind of event you could easily ignore. It was loud and colourful, fast and full of spills. Take your eyes off the track for a second and you might miss half a team being sent to the penalty box or a skater landing in the suicide zone where spectators sat at the edge of the track. He had no idea if the Hurley Burley’s beat the Admin Anarchists, but judging by the noise their cheer squad, in short baby doll dresses and tiny 1950s style playsuits were making, they must have.
“You with us?” said Dan, as Freddy Mercury and Queen started singing We Will Rock You over the loud speaker and the stadium exploded into movement towards the food vendors before the next bout.
“Yeah.”
“Is it work?”
Now would be the time to tell Dan he’d lost the bet. “No.”
“Bree?”
Now would be the time to tell Dan about what happened last night. Get his take on it. “No.”
“Family?”
“Yeah, all good.”
“Drugs?”
“What?”
“You’re on another planet. You were this morning too.”
“Didn’t get much sleep.” Truth is he’d had a decent amount because he’d ended up home early after one drink at the bar. But he’d been out surfed that morning by grommets, even a fricking knee-boarder and they didn’t call them cripples for nothing, so he was definitely stewing in his own juices.
He’d been so mad for Bree last night, so sure she felt the same. He’d thought she came on to him first, but maybe that was what he wanted to think, because she’d ended things right about when all logic got bent out of shape and his ability to think clearly had gone to Disneyland. And she’d been distressed about it.
He was clear only on two points: she didn’t have a bloke, she’d told him that, so it wasn’t about cheating. And it wasn’t about the public nature of the hook up, because, yeah, circular argument, she started it. Didn’t she? All the rest was a mystery.
He knew he’d come on strong, but she’d had her hands under his shirt and her tongue so far down his throat she could’ve tasted spring lamb. Usually when things went that far it was a sure bet. No, not usually—always. The fact he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t forced himself on her made him feel gut sick. Especially because he couldn’t blame the drink. He might’ve been a player, but he wasn’t the kind of bloke who’d force a woman into physical contact. Whatever the truth of this was, there was no avoiding it. Monday morning was going to be interesting.
Dan put his fingers to the back of his neck and squeezed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think a chick was responsible for this.”
He shifted to pull out of Dan’s grip and tried to keep his expression attached to the roughhousing and not give away how close the guy was to the truth. Dan dropped his hand and laughed, so that was an epic fail. Bugger.
“What happened?”
“Fuck off. I’m not getting all touchy feely on this.”
Dan faced the track again. “All right.”
They sat there together while the others were outside getting drinks and food and Prince sang Let’s Go Crazy. Dan could use silence like the hammer of Thor.
“I might’ve gone too hard. I might’ve forced myself on her.”
“We’re talking Bree, right? What did you do?”
“I pashed her.”
“This is Bree, the woman you don’t like? Who you think someone is knocking around?”