Merry with a Playmaker (Love Beach Holiday Collection)

Chapter Five

The swirl of steam rising from my latte distracts me as I glance around the bustling holiday crowds packing Love Bean Coffee Co. I almost don't notice him at first. But then my eyes lock onto a familiar smile across the room and my lurches at the site of… Evan?

He parts the crowd of knitted scarves and puffer jackets like Moses through the Red Sea, that magnetic charm as potent as ever. I straighten up and steady my mug as Evan strolls over, handsome as ever in his fitted peacoat.

"Merry! I thought that was you." His rich laugh warms me more than my peppermint mocha. "It's been ages. Fancy running into you here."

I tuck an errant strand behind my ear, lips quirking. "Well, you know me and my caffeine. Some things never change."

"Like your brilliant mind?" He taps his temple, eyes sparkling. "I still credit half our rugby wins to that strategic genius of yours. Remember when you stayed up all night plotting out those defensive plays?"

I snort. "How could I forget? You lot would've been lost without me."

Keep it casual, Mer. No need to get swept up again. We're reminiscing teammates here.

He leans on the bar, strong forearms flexing . "Speaking of needing your skills... I've got this charity rugby match coming up. I could use your strategic magic again, if you're game?"

My eyebrow arches as I sip my latte. "Oh? The rugby star needs help from little ol' me?"

I gesture to a quiet corner booth. "I suppose I can spare a few minutes to hear you out. No promises!"

We slide into the worn leather seats, knees bumping under the narrow table. I ignore the tingle racing up my thigh. Focus, Merry. This is business, not pleasure.

"So here's the deal. It's a big charity event, and I want our team to really showcase what we can do. We need an edge."

He taps the table for emphasis. "That's where you come in. Your analytical skills, your knack for seeing patterns and opportunities no one else does... You could help us create new plays."

I bite my lip, considering. It's tempting, the chance to stretch my strategic muscles again. To partner with Evan like old times, putting our heads together...

" It's been a while since I've even looked at a rugby playbook," I hedge, fingers fiddling with my mug handle.

His hand covers mine, sending a jolt straight to my core. "I have faith in you, Mer. You're brilliant. Always have been." His ocean eyes hold mine, unwavering. Sincere. "We could make one hell of a team again."

Damn him and his persuasive charm. What's the harm in a little game-planning between friends?

I exhale, a rueful smile playing on my lips. "Alright, you smooth-talker. I'm in."

I glance at my watch. "Well, if we're going to do this, we might as well go all in." I lean forward, elbows on the table. "When and where should we meet to start strategizing?"

Evan's eyes light up with excitement. "How about tomorrow at my cottage? We can dive into the details without any distractions." He leans back, a playful smirk on his face. "Unless of course, you find me too distracting."

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Please. I can handle your so-called charms." My lady bits break out into a dance at the thought of being alone with him in his cozy cottage.

Focus, Merry.

"How about 10 am?" I suggest, keeping my tone casual. "That should give us plenty of time to go over the playbooks and analyze the team's strengths and weaknesses."

Evan nods, his expression turning serious. "Perfect. I'll make sure to have everything set up." He reaches out, his hand warm as it covers mine. "I appreciate you doing this, Mer. It means a lot."

"Of course. What are friends for?" I pull my hand back, grabbing my purse as I stand. "I should get going. See you tomorrow, bright and early."

Evan rises, his tall frame towering over me. "I'll be counting down the minutes." His voice is low waking up bits eager to join in the party.

I turn towards the door, my mind already racing with anticipation for our strategy session. Stepping out into the crisp evening air, I wonder what tomorrow will bring. One thing's for sure - with Evan de Nemours, I'm in for one wild ride.

**********

Sand crunches beneath my boots as I approach Evan's beachfront cottage, its white-washed walls gleaming in the morning sun. The salty breeze wafts through my curls in welcome. I pause at the front door, taking a steadying breath before raising my hand to knock.

The door swings open almost revealing Evan's grinning face. "Merry! Right on time." He steps back, gesturing for me to enter. "Come on in."

I step over the threshold, my senses assaulted by the warmth and coziness of the space. A plush couch sits in the center of the living room, flanked by worn leather armchairs. But it's the large whiteboard and scattered rugby playbooks that catch my eye, evidence of Evan's dedication to our little project.

"I see you've been busy," I remark, nodding towards the setup.

Evan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know me, always prepared." He leads me further into the room, his hand hovering near the small of my back. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

I breathe out trying to ignore his proximity. "I'm good, thanks. Why don't we dive right in?"

"Eager to get started, huh?" Evan teases. "I like it."

He gestures for me to take a seat on the couch as he moves to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker with a flourish. He sketches out plays, his voice animated with excitement, I lean forward, drawn in by his enthusiasm. The familiar thrill of a challenge courses through my veins, tempered only by the nagging awareness of Evan's presence, his every movement distracting in its fluidity.

This is going to be one long day, I think forcing my attention back to the task at hand. But as Evan shoots me a conspiratorial grin over his shoulder.

Evan launches into an explanation of a new play he's been working on, his hands moving animatedly as he sketches out formations on the whiteboard. "See, if we have the forwards create a diversion here," he taps the marker against the board, "it'll open up space for the backs to break through the defense."

I lean in, studying the diagram with a critical eye. "What about their flankers? They could disrupt the play if we don't account for them."

"Ah, that's where you come in, Mer." Evan grins, the nickname rolling off his tongue with easy familiarity. "I was hoping you could help me find a way to neutralize their threat."

The challenge ignites a spark within me. I rise moving to stand beside him at the whiteboard. "Okay, let's think this through." I take the marker from his hand, our fingers brushing.

Ignoring the sensation, I focus on the task at hand, making quick notations on the board. "If we shift the scrum-half to this position," I draw an arrow, "it could provide extra support and throw off their flankers' timing."

Evan nods, his eyes bright with excitement. "Brilliant! We could have the fly-half exploit the gap created by the confusion."

We lose ourselves in the strategy, our voices overlapping as we build upon each other's ideas. The world narrows down to the whiteboard, the plays taking shape before our eyes, the thrill of intellectual synergy driving us forward.

Hours pass in a blink, the sun dipping lower in the sky, sending a golden glow through the cottage windows. It's only when my stomach growls audibly that I realize how much time has elapsed.

Evan laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Looks like we lost track of time. I guess that's what happens when you're in the zone."

I chuckle. "I suppose we should take a break. Wouldn't want to strategize on an empty stomach."

"Agreed." Evan caps the marker, tossing it onto the coffee table. "I've got some snacks in the kitchen. We can refuel and then get back to it."

He heads towards the kitchen, I stretch, my muscles protesting from hours of standing. The cottage is warm and cozy - a stark contrast to the intense strategizing session.

I marvel at how easily we fell back into our old rhythm, the years melting away as if they never existed. It's both comforting and unnerving, the pull of our connection as strong as ever despite the time apart.

I follow Evan into the kitchen, determined to keep things light and focused. We've got a match to win, after all. No time for distractions, no matter how tempting they may be.

**********

Evan rummages through the cabinets, pulling out a variety of snacks. "Alright, we've got chips, pretzels, and some trail mix. Take your pick."

I grab a handful of pretzels, popping one into my mouth. "Trail mix? Feeling healthy, are we?"

He grins, tossing a piece of dried fruit at me. "Gotta keep up with the nutritional demands of coaching. Can't have the team outpacing me."

I catch the fruit, my reflexes still sharp. "Oh, I'm sure you can keep up just fine. You always were full of surprises."

"Speaking of surprises..." Evan leans against the counter. "Remember that time you convinced the team to switch to a completely new strategy right before the championship match?"

I laugh, the memory vivid. "The look on the opposing team's faces when you executed that first play... priceless."

We fall into a comfortable back-and-forth, trading stories and jokes as we munch on snacks. The tension from earlier dissipates, and it's like slipping into a favorite sweater, familiar and comforting.

The laughter dies down, I glance out the window, surprised to see the sun dipping below the horizon. "Wow, I didn't realize how late it was getting."

Evan follows my gaze, a satisfied smile on his face. "Time flies when you're having fun and making progress. I think we've got a solid plan coming together."

I nod, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Definitely. I'm actually excited to see how it all plays out on the field."

"With you on our side, I have no doubt we'll crush it." Evan's words are laced with confidence, his belief in my abilities unwavering.

"Well, I should head out. Let you get some rest before we tackle this again tomorrow."

Evan walks me to the door, his hand brushing mine as he reaches for the handle. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I pull back trying to ignore the way my skin tingles.

"Thanks for today, Merry. It means a lot to have you here, working with me again."

"I'm happy to help. I'll see you tomorrow."

The air is crisp, cold, but does little to calm the racing of my heart. The cottage disappears behind me as I walk towards my car, but the warmth of Evan's presence lingers, a reminder of the bond we once shared.

Or a hint of what could be.

My mind is abuzz with rugby plays and strategy as I drive away from Evan's cottage. The intellectual thrill of diving back into the world of competitive sports analysis has me grinning like a fool. It's been ages since I've flexed these particular mental muscles, and damn, it feels good.

But it's not just the strategizing that has me smiling. Spending time with Evan, falling back into our old rhythm of playful banter and challenges - it was like slipping on a favorite sweatshirt, cozy and familiar. I can't deny the spark of excitement that comes with being around him again.

Dangerous thoughts, Merry.

I navigate the winding roads back to town, I focus on the tasks ahead. Tomorrow, we'll dive deeper into our game plan, refining plays and anticipating potential obstacles. I can already picture Evan's face as we break down each move, his eyes lighting up with every clever suggestion.

Stop it, Merry. Professional. Remember?