Just My Luck by Rosalind James

“Giving himself the upper hand, because he knows you’ve been waiting to hear from him. Now he knows he doesn’t have to bother to call in advance, or to hide the fact that you’re not the one he’s taking out on Saturday night. He’s not even coming to pick you up.”
    “Maybe he’s broke, like me,” Ally protested. “Maybe breakfast is all he can afford.”
    “Then why couldn’t he have called you a couple days ago to schedule it?”
    Ally shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s been busy. Or maybe he’s more spontaneous, also like me. Anyway, I can’t play those kinds of dating games.”
    “OK,” Kristen sighed. “But I have a feeling he can.”
     
    “So. Sport,” Devon said when the two of them were perched on tall stools in a seating alcove behind the City Market on Sunday, drinking coffee and eating an assortment of delicious items, from tiny dumplings filled with chopped prawns and fresh ginger to an almond croissant from the French Bakery table that had Ally’s eyes almost crossing with food lust on her first bite.
    “So,” she agreed, smiling back at him and taking another bite of croissant. Oh, yeah. Just as good the second time. “Sport.”
    He laughed. “You’ve had a good dose of it, sounds like, since you moved to En Zed. Not only everything you’ve done, but all the rugby exposure. Most visitors seem to manage to discover, eventually, that Kiwis are keen on rugby, but not many of them spend their Christmas with the captain of the All Blacks.”
    “Retired captain,” Ally pointed out over another sip of her trim flat white. Boy, Wellington had some good coffee, she thought appreciatively. And this was one of the best yet.
    “You’re able to see, though,” Devon persisted, “how much more important rugby is here than any other sport. Oh, people love it when we do well in basketball,” he admitted, “or when we send the All Whites to the soccer World Cup, win the sailing and rowing medals at the Olympics, but nothing really compares to rugby.”
    “I’m gathering that. It must get a little frustrating, trying to drum up interest in something else.”
    “Exactly! You’ve got it exactly.” He smiled at her with an appreciation, a warmth that made Ally feel just a little bit smarter, a little bit more appealing. “Which is why,” he said, “though I’d never presume, I do hope you’ll tell me if Drew and Hannah pop down again to visit Kristen.”
    “How do you know her name?”
    “You told me.”
    “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t think I did.”
    He shrugged. “Must have read it somewhere. But, yeh. If they do, I’d love an intro. That’d help. Having Nate so dead set against me—it makes it tough to break in. And now that he’s captain, it’s even harder. But Drew still has heaps of clout.”
    “Mana,” Ally remembered. “Right?”
    “Yeh. You know about that? You keep impressing me, the way you pick up on things. The way you get straight to the essence. That thing you said about athleticism, last time we were out, that we’d focused too much on glamour . . . that was brilliant. I took that straight back to the office. Made us all think a good bit.”
    “Really? That’s great. I’m glad I could help.”
    “Yeh. So, much as I hate to ask . . .” He smiled ruefully. “I’d love the intro, if the chance ever comes up.”
    She looked down at her coffee cup, rearranged her croissant on its paper napkin, then met his eyes again.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t think I’d be comfortable doing that. Drew gets so much of that, I know. And they’ve both done a lot for me,” she hurried on. “I just can’t . . .”
    “No worries,” he smiled easily. “I’ll get my chance someday, one way or another. Keep working hard, doing my best, and the opportunities will come, I’m dead sure of it.”
    “I’m sure they will. And I’m sorry I can’t help,” she said again.
    “Nah.” He waved her apology away. “Forget it. Now, let’s