The Player and the Pixie(3)

I snickered to myself when I realized I’d almost commented on it out loud. Okay, I’d officially had too many glasses of “bubbly” as Sean so douchebaggedly called it. He must have heard my snicker because his attention landed on me. He stared at me for a second, arched a condescending brow, then dismissed me all in an instant, returning his attention to the bar.

Huh.

After about thirty seconds everyone went back to their conversations, trying their best to ignore Sean. Ronan had told me once that Sean was the kind of person who thrived on attention, so ignoring his presence was probably the best course of action to take.

It was my own fault I couldn’t stop staring. We’d never spoken before. In fact, I’d only ever seen him from afar at parties like this one, or on television when there was a match on. But right now he was close, close enough for me to realize just how devastatingly and legitimately handsome he was: light blue eyes, a strong jaw, nice lips, attractive nose.

Sigh.

Why were the beautiful ones always such pricks, huh?

He leaned back against the bar, having uncorked the champagne bottle and poured some into a glass. He wore a shit-eating grin as he stared right at Ronan, holding the glass to his lips, his pinky popped. I knew he was getting to Ronan when my brother muttered to Annie under his breath, “Is he fucking shitting me?”

Annie sat beside her fiancé, wearing a gorgeous blue dress and looking worried. She quietly placed her hand on Ronan’s thigh in an effort to soothe him.

Sean just kept on smiling while Ronan became more and more aggravated. It was only another minute or two before my brother finally snapped.

“All right, Cassidy, you’ve clearly got something to say, so say it,” Ronan announced loudly. “And put your fucking pinky down.”

Sean’s lips moved in something akin to satisfaction as he wiggled his little finger. “What? This pinky? Do I challenge your Neanderthal notions of masculinity, Fitzpatrick? Or do raised pinky fingers turn you on?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re about as gay as a Snoop Dogg music video. Now spit it out.”

Sean gave Ronan a bored look then cast his eyes across the room to one of the new players, an American guy named William Moore.

He pointed his finger at him; his index finger, not his pinky finger. “I know you’re fixing to have this hillbilly replace me. Well, let me tell you right here and now, it’s not gonna happen.”

William was built like a brick shithouse and came from a small farming town in Oklahoma. His mother was of Irish descent and he originally played for a semi-professional team back in the States. William was also one of the kindest, most well-mannered men I’d ever met, so it irked me that Sean was targeting him.

It seemed to be irking everyone else, too, and I noticed a number of the guys bristle, their postures growing stiff. Sean wasn’t doing himself any favors by calling out William. Everybody loved William.

“You’re being paranoid,” said Ronan. “No one’s looking to replace you, Cassidy. Despite the fact that we’d all like to shove your head down a toilet most days, you’re unfortunately talented. It’s the only reason we put up with your piss-poor personality.”

Sean didn’t seem to hear the veiled compliment Ronan had given him, and instead focused on the insult. “That’s funny, because your girls have a history of finding my personality irresistible. Or maybe they just find you lacking.” His glacial eyes slithered to my brother’s fiancée, “It’s really just a matter of time.”

Ronan stood from his seat and took a step forward. Annie tried to grab his hand and pull him back down but he was already gone. Before we knew it he was inches away from Sean, glaring daggers.

“If you want to keep playing for this team then you’ll shut your fecking face right now.”

Sean stared at him, apparently unaffected by Ronan’s aggression. “Oh, so now you have a say in who does and doesn’t play for the team? I failed to receive the memo regarding your promotion to our manager.”

“Leave. Now,” said Ronan, his jaw working. If I knew my brother, it was taking a great effort for him not to deck Sean right then. He had a notoriously short fuse, and Sean Cassidy was an expert at knowing how to light it.

Barely a second passed before several of the guys were up from their seats and leading Sean out of the room. He went, but not before flashing Ronan an immense, challenging smile as he left. Ronan sat back down beside Annie, who gave him a soft kiss on the lips and whispered in his ear. I guessed she was telling him not to let Sean get to him.

I knew she meant well, but there was too much animosity between the two men for them to just let it go. Granted, I’d only ever been an outsider looking in, but if I knew anything about rugby, I knew it was chock-full of testosterone and egos, and those two were not a good mix.