ever come across.” She grimaced. “So apologies in advance.”
“We play for fun, right, team?” Maddy said with a twinkle in her eye. “Right, Nick? Kellan?”
The two men grumbled something incoherent, earning them a swat each from Maddy.
“Well, I say we play for fun,” she said. “And today is an excuse to hang out anyway—we’ve got our first game of the season next week, so plenty of time for you to practice.”
A week was not plenty of time. But Cora decided right then and there that her trip to Australia wasn’t simply about getting some space from her troubles back home and working on her novel. This time would be a chance for her to let loose, go with the flow, and be spontaneous—all things that she wouldn’t dare do normally.
Because one thing was certain, whatever she’d been doing for the last several years of her life had gotten her absolutely freaking nowhere. What did she have to show for all that time of trying to win others over? A failed engagement, a job that she’d only gotten because of her father and that came with no advancement opportunities, and a fancy apartment that felt like a gilded cage.
She didn’t have to be that person here. She could be anyone. Even herself.
Chapter Seven
“Okay, this is my beach cricket lesson, speed edition.” Trent picked up the bat and handed it to her. The rest of the group were applying sunscreen, drinking water, or chatting among themselves while waiting for the action to get started.
The bat was strange—flat on one side and pointed on the other. She’d heard people say that baseball and cricket were kind of comparable, but she’d only ever seen baseball before. Yankees box seats, through her father’s work, and she hadn’t paid much attention to the game. Given her minimal interaction with sports as a kid, she found it hard to follow.
But she knew how they held the bat, at least. So she hiked it over her right shoulder, unsure whether the flat or the pointed side was supposed to be facedown.
Trent chuckled. “In cricket, we hold the bat to the ground.”
“Oh.” Cora’s cheeks warmed. “Whoops.”
“Let me show you.” He guided the bat off her shoulder. “This part is called the toe, but that’s basically a fancy way of saying the bottom of the bat. We stand side-on, flat part forward and swing with that toe coming down toward the ground.”
Trent executed a movement, pretending he was holding a bat. Cora swallowed. Unlike the others, he still had a T-shirt covering his top half. But the soft white cotton hugged his body in a way that was mouth-wateringly perfect. As he twisted, the movement enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the trim vee of his waist, and it made the muscles in his arms flex and bulge.
Good Lord. What do they feed the men down here?
“Okay,” Cora mumbled, trying to mimic the movement. But clearly, she’d been too busy checking out Trent’s cut physique to actually figure out what she was supposed to do, because her swing was clunky and awkward.
“It’ll be easier if I help put you into position.” He came closer. “Do you mind getting up close and personal for a second?”
“No.” The word came out like a dry croak.
Dear Lord. Getting up close and personal with Trent wasn’t going to help her learn how to play cricket at all. Because her brain was already speeding toward Jell-O territory as it was. But he came around behind her, his hands moving to her wrists. The warmth of him seeped into her body, stoking the fire already burning bright.
“Let’s get you into a setup position.” He maneuvered her body, making her face to one side. “Start the bat here, with the toe touching the sand. Always have the face—which is the flat bit—facing the front. Then we’re going to flex your wrists and bring the bat back a little and then swing through.”
He was being a gentleman, keeping some space between them, but it was impossible not to get close with the swinging motion. Trent’s thighs grazed her ass and the touch—subtle and innocent as it was—made her blood pulse hard and hot in her veins. She wanted to arch back into him, to feel his body cradle hers.
To feel those strong, muscular arms wrap around her like they might whisk her away from her troubles forever.
“Let’s try that again.” Trent helped her draw the bat back, flexing her wrists so that the bat was raised and