“Oh no,” she whispered, her heart in her mouth. How the hell could he get up from that? How the hell could anyone get up from that?
And yet, as the coach blew his whistle, the huge man got to his feet and reached down, pulling Caleb to his feet. Both men were grinning and seemed no worse for wear.
Judith shook herself and told her pounding heart to settle down. It was just a game. A silly, violent game. And if he got hurt that was his own stupid fault. She didn’t care.
The session began to break up, the team heading for the locker rooms. A few had stopped to speak to the onlookers, Caleb among them.
Judith slowly walked down the side of the field where he stood talking to a couple of the kids. She was surprised by the way he seemed in no hurry to move on, despite the fact that rain was now bucketing down. Stopping not far from him, she watched him, caught by the look on his face. He was listening to the boy in front of him, nodding as if the kid were telling him the most fascinating thing in the world, and not regaling him with boyish thoughts on the latest Blues match. Then Caleb said something to the boy, something Judith couldn’t catch. The kid’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Caleb sunk down on his haunches so he was at eye-level and then began to talk, gesturing with both hands as if illustrating something. Talking strategy, maybe?
The kid watched him as if he were imparting the secrets of the universe.
Judith found herself reaching for her phone. The camera on it wasn’t the best but if she went back for the camera in her car, the moment would be gone. And she just couldn’t miss it.
The look on Caleb’s face. The look on the kid’s. Both of them totally caught up in the moment between them, despite the rain and the mud and the cold. As if nothing else existed.
She didn’t like spontaneous, on-the-fly photography sessions but there was no way she could recreate this in her studio, the artist inside her knew it.
Judith began taking pictures, hypnotized by the pair on the field.
Eventually Caleb finished whatever it was he was saying, rising to his full height again. The boy said something, beaming and waving what looked like a sodden piece of paper and a pen at him. Caleb laughed. Judith took another picture, a peculiar feeling taking up residence inside her. It was the same smile she’d seen in her studio. Natural and easy, so charming it made her want to smile right along with him.
Caleb took the boy’s pen and instead of signing the wet bit of paper, he tugged on the hem of the boy’s T-shirt. The kid nodded and grinned like a loon as Caleb signed the material. Judith took more pictures, the strange feeling turning into an ache somewhere in the region of her chest.
She lowered her phone, confused. She’d seen lots of sportspeople make nice to kids before and it had always seemed cheesy and fake. She’d assumed Caleb’s photo ops were the same, that his PR person had organized them, making him look good for the punters. But this wasn’t staged. Nor was it cheesy or fake. God, she did not want to be impressed with him. No she did not.
A couple of minutes later and Caleb had stopped to talk to more of the kids, signing autographs and shaking hands, no impatience about him, no sense that he was just going through the motions. Judith couldn’t stop watching him.
Eventually, most of the fans began to move off the field to escape the pouring rain. As he finished speaking to one, Caleb finally noticed her.
He ran to her, pushing his soaked hair off his face. He was utterly drenched, his shirt muddy and clinging to the powerful width of his shoulders, the material outlining the incredible muscles of his chest and abdomen. She couldn’t help the way her gaze dipped to see if his shorts were just as wet. And yes, they were. Very wet.
“Hey, Jude,” Caleb said. “I’m up here.”
Blushing furiously, she looked up at him. His eyes were dark and full of amusement, which was just so damn annoying. “Hi,” she said stiffly. “You told me to meet you here.”
“I did. And here you are.” He smiled. “Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem.” She braced herself for some massive amounts of teasing over wet jock shots or something similar.
All he said was, “Thought we could have coffee after this. Discuss the schedule and the other people involved in this calendar thing.”
No babycakes? No teasing about the studmuffin? No flirting? Judith realized she was fiddling with her hair and stopped. “Oh, sure. No worries.”
He glanced over the wet playing field. “I thought you’d want to wait in your car. It’s too wet to stand around here unless you’re a die-hard fan.”
Yes. The car. Good point. So why had she stood there watching him? She didn’t like rugby. She didn’t like rain. There was no reason at all for her to be here watching him.