Unwrapping Her Perfect Match

Chapter Nine

The journey home just about finished the job that the Leicester forwards had started when they'd knocked him over. Although Liam had done his best to drive slowly and carefully, he'd had to swerve and slam on his brakes twice—once for a cyclist with a death wish and once for a minicab that pulled out of an alley and nearly blindsided them. Driving in London: more of an adrenaline rush than eighty minutes on a rugby pitch.

By the time Liam pulled up outside John's building, John's head ached as if it would burst open like an overripe watermelon. Gwen had insisted that he take the front passenger seat. They had argued about it for several minutes, each offering to squeeze into the back of Liam's midsize Toyota—which didn't feel midsize to anyone oversized—until Liam had yelled, "For fuck's sake, Shelly, let her take the back seat so we can get you home, you stubborn git." Now, as Liam put the car in Park, John sat there holding his head in his hands, praying it wouldn't explode. Consciousness drifted away from him, and he only vaguely heard Liam and Gwen's voices as if they came from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

"Shelly, mate, wake up. Come on, we're here and I don't want to have to carry you like my bride."

Liam had to be joking, considering he was nearly a foot shorter than John.

Gwen's voice sounded calm as she said, "John, we want to get you inside so we can start making arrangements for Agnes. Will you help us?"

Agnes. His beautiful girl who seemed like a completely different person each time he saw her, since he saw her so rarely. How did Gwen know about Agnes?

Oh, yeah. He'd told her at the hospital. Concussion. Christmas. He pressed the button on his seatbelt, and it unlatched.

"Good lad," his skipper said. "I'll get the door for you."

Next thing he knew, hands grabbed at him and hoisted him to his feet. His vision swam and he stumbled. A pair of strong arms wrapped around his ribcage, giving him someone to lean against. He looked down, fully expecting to see Liam hugging him. But the pale blond head tucked under his chin didn't belong to his captain. It belonged to someone a little taller.

Jesus, Gwen was taking most of his weight and helping him take steps that were so unsteady he reminded himself of a newborn giraffe attempting to walk on shaky, untried legs.

"You're strong," he muttered against her hair. It smelled faintly of strawberries and a little of sweat. That shouldn't turn him on, but knowing how she'd exerted herself all day made his heart thump harder. No shrinking violet, this one.

"And you're massive," she replied.

"Huge. I still want to hear you say I'm huge."

"Mate, could you save the sexy chat for when I'm gone?" Liam asked. "I'd appreciate it."

He'd forgotten Liam was here. Fuck, just how bad had he messed up his brain?

Someone's fingers reached into John's pocket for his keys, and Liam jogged up the three steps to open John's front door.

"I can do the stairs myself," he assured Gwen. But she clearly didn't trust him to stay on his feet because she and Liam flanked him, both hooking an arm around him and taking each step with painstaking slowness.

When they finally reached the third step, his body leaned forward. Suddenly the air around him disappeared and he was falling...

Something hard jammed into his stomach and broke his fall, sending him only to his knees instead of his face. A feminine cry of pain brought reality back with a rush. Gwen was hunched over in front of him, Liam on his knees too, his hand cupping the back of her head.