Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Connect With the Author
Evie Anderson
IN THE FAST LANE
Published by Evie Anderson
Edited by Val Hatfield, Finish the Story
Cover Design by May Sage
Copyright © 2016 Evie Anderson
All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. All of the names of characters and incidents that bear any resemblance to actual people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Push. Push. Push. The mantra beat in time to the pounding in Jessi’s head. She felt the burn in her lungs with each gasp of air she took. The searing pain that started in her shoulder ripped through the rest of her arm with every pull of water. Finally, she hit the wall.
“Get out of the pool, Jess.”
Damn it. Sawyer was worried. That was fair. Jessi Pruitt, Olympic gold medalist, America’s sweetheart, and best chance at gold in the upcoming Olympic Games, was worried too. Pulling off her goggles and swim cap, she looked up at Sawyer, her coach, mentor, and friend.
“That bad, huh?”
Sawyer sighed. “Yeah. It’s that bad.”
That was the thing about Sawyer—he gave it to you straight. Grabbing the wall, she pushed herself out of the pool and sat on the edge. Feet dangling in the water, head hanging in dejection, she felt like a kid who’d just disappointed her first coach.
Sawyer squatted down next to her, hands hanging between his knees. “We gotta do something different, kiddo. This just isn’t working.”
“It will, Sawyer. You can do it. You can fix this. Just give me more time.”
“We don’t have time, Jessi. We’re behind as it is. We’ve got two weeks before the Games, and Jess, you can’t win like this.”
“You’re the best, Sawyer. You’ll come up with something.” Jessi had complete faith in Sawyer’s ability. He was the most decorated Olympic athlete in the world. He’d won everything there was to win in the world of swimming and held all the world records... except for one. Dalton McKinney, Sawyer’s lifelong rival—and the person Jessi disliked most in this world—held the record for the 400 Individual Medley. Jessi did her best not to think about that.
Jessi knew Sawyer could fix her stroke. She fully admitted that sometimes her faith in him erred on the side of adoration, but it was well deserved. Eight years ago, he had mentored her through her first Olympics. She had been a teenage girl entering the international swimming world and it had been scary. Sawyer had celebrated with her when she’d won. He had also been there to pick up the pieces when she’d had her first heartbreak—thanks to the same Dalton McKinney. Sawyer would pick her up now, like always, when she needed it most.
Unfortunately, at the moment, he was looking down at the pool deck in resignation.
“Sawyer?” She’d never seen him like this before. His lack of confidence scared her.
“Jessi, I don’t know how to fix this. We’re out of options.”
“No. No, we aren’t.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a shake. “This will work itself out.”
“Jessi, your shoulder isn’t the same. It’s undergone reconstructive surgery. You pushed it too hard at trials—”
“I won at trials.”
“Exactly. You didn’t need to win. You needed to place. But that just doesn’t register with you, does it? It’s all or nothing. Now we’re sitting here with a strained shoulder, a shitty stroke, and a real possibility that you won’t make it out of the first heat, let alone medal. Jessi, I’m not kidding. We are out of options.”
“Well then, what the hell do you suggest?” Jessi rarely got mad at Sawyer, but they’d been at it for the last couple of days. They’d start practice out strong and then end up at each other’s throats. Clearly they were both desperate.
“What I suggest is that I start working with the rest of the team. I’m their head coach, after all. I can’t spend all my time coaching my pet swimmer.”
“What? Are you seriously saying this?” Apparently, it was the time of day to start going for the throat. Jessi ripped off her swim cap and slapped it on the deck. “I’ve never asked you to focus on me! I told you I could work it out, and you insisted that I need more help—”
“You do.”
“Fine. Go help the kids. I’m just a washed-up old lady anyway.”
“Oh my God.” Sawyer rolled his eyes at her. “Seriously? Stop with the crap. You’re not that kind of athlete.” He took a deep breath. “You’re not washed-up; you’re injured. You’re not old; you’re twenty-five and retiring so that you can start on the next phase of your life. You’ve also been swimming since before you could walk, and you’ve never once, not once, Jessi Pruitt, thrown a temper tantrum until now. So look at me, kid.” His voice had softened.
Jessi looked up at him. He was five years her senior, blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful. Confidence radiated off him. He had the medals to back up the attitude, and he was as sincere as they came.
“It’s time to bring in someone else,” he muttered.
“No.”
“Jessi—”
“I don’t like other coaches.”
“You like everyone.”
That was pretty much true. Jessi was a people person. She loved to smile and joke and have fun, but she could pout with the best of them. “Fine. But I only work well with you.”
Again, Sawyer sighed. “Maybe that’s just because we’ve worked together for too long. I’ve probably spoiled you.”
If by spoiling her he meant kicking her ass day in and day out for the last eight years... “You have not.”
“I’ve made it hard for you to work with other coaches.”
“Maybe, but don’t worry about it, Sawyer. I can fix this.” He was right about one thing—even though she hated to admit it, he spent way too much time working with her. It was his job to get the team ready for the Games, not just the girl he thought of as a kid sister. And if she was his little sister, he was her big brother. She owed it to him to fix this.
“I’ll fix it, Sawyer. You go work with the rest of the team.”
“How are you going to fix it?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Like I always do. Balls out until I slap the wall.” She grinned up at him.
“God, you’re just like him, aren’t you?”
Jessi’s smile immediately fell. “Like who?” Something cold and dark swept into her heart. She had a really good feeling she wasn’t going to like what Sawyer would say.
“You know who.”
“No, Sawyer Jameson, I do not. Why don’t you elaborate?”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re the best butterflyer the U.S. women’s team has ever had. You’re the best in the world, Jessi. It just makes sense—”
; “Sawyer, I don’t like the way this conversation is going.” She tried not to panic as a horrible possibility solidified in her brain.
“I’m bringing Dalton McKinney in to coach you.”
Jessi felt herself go numb. Her body went still in the preternatural way bodies do right before everything goes to shit. “Oh, hell no.”
“Jessi, he’s the best at the butterfly.”
“No. He is not.” Jessi held on to her temper with everything she had. Taking a calming breath, she continued, “You are. You have the gold medals.”
Sawyer just stared at her.
Jessi took the last step from pissed to panicked. Dalton McKinney was the one man from her past that had no business in her present. He had quite thoroughly broken her heart when she was a young swimmer in her first Olympics. He had been young himself at the time, but more seasoned—and far more jaded. After a few short weeks of pouring their souls out to one another, he had promptly let her know she was no longer needed for emotional support. The bartender she had caught him screwing would apparently do nicely for that kind of thing.
Sawyer sighed and continued to stare her down. “I’m the most disciplined in the pool, Jessi. He’s the better swimmer.”
“Is not.”
“Jessi! Damn it, be a grown up here. It was a kiss, and it was eight years ago. Let it go. He broke your heart. I know—I was there. I was also there when you went to college and started dating and forgot all about him. Why in the hell do you still hold a grudge? It wasn’t that big a deal. This isn’t like you.”
“Do not insult me. It doesn’t matter why the hell I still hold a grudge. This is not happening. It was a big deal to me, and even if that is stupid, it’s my career. I’m the one who wants to go out with a bang—”
“Yes. And I’m the one trying to prove that I can handle being a head coach here. You think it’s easy being thirty and in charge of the U.S. Swim Team? You’re America’s goddamn sweetheart. No one cares about your damn shoulder. They want you to win. I have to deliver that.”
“So you’re going to bring in a playboy with a drinking problem? Smart, Sawyer. Way to prove your capabilities.”
“He’s not a drunk anymore.”
“Yeah, a tree fixed that little problem, didn’t it? How about the playboy part?” She’d been such an idiot to think that Dalton had ever loved her. His poorly timed peep show had helped nicely to alleviate her of that mental deficiency.
“Probably. Is that what bothers you? That he likes women a lot? That he just didn’t like you?”
Sawyer couldn’t know how much that hurt, even now. There was still a part of Jessi that was a young girl in love with a troubled boy. Cliché it might be, but the fact was, that part of Jessi—a part that she loathed—was simply the good girl attracted to a bad boy she thought she could change. She had worked damn hard to make that girl stay where she belonged—in the past. Jessi had been horribly and humiliatingly wrong about Dalton. She would not make the same mistake again.
“You are such a jerk.” She started to walk away.
“Stop right there. Like it or not, I’m your coach here, not your friend. You are going to do what I say, and you’re going to let some crush from eight years ago lie in the past where it belongs. You were a kid in puppy love. You’re a grown woman now. Act like it.”
Sawyer might have gone and lost his ever-loving mind about coaching, but he was right about that. She was an adult. Which meant she could pull a few punches of her own. “Sawyer, if you bring that man in here to coach me, I swear I will drop out of these damn Games.”
“Don’t threaten me, Jessi. We both know you aren’t going to do that.”
“Maybe not, but I can sure as hell make life difficult for you. If I don’t play along, you’re stuck trying to make your name as a coach with a bunch of college students who are more likely to drown than win you any medals.” Jessi glared at Sawyer, who was giving back as good as he got.
With a final glare, Sawyer said, “I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”
“Fine.” Jessi turned toward the locker rooms, stood up straight and tall as if she owned the damn place, and like the gold medalist she was, strode across the pool deck, letting the doors slam behind her.
Chapter 2
Dalton McKinney squinted to look at the shadowy figure that had just stepped into his sunlight. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Great. Sawyer Jameson.
Dalton shook his head. Did God hate him? Probably. Why else would Sawyer be standing over him?
He turned his attention back to the framing wall for the house he was working on. He needed to get the boards lined up so he could erect it later today.
“Nope,” Sawyer said.
What the hell? Sawyer had a way of reading his mind. He was most effective at it in the pool, but that didn’t mean the skills weren’t transferable to land. “Nope what?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t drink during the day anymore, so Sawyer couldn’t be here to give him one of his holier-than-thou pep talks about Dalton being better than “this.” Whatever “this” was.
“Nope, I won’t go away,” Sawyer replied.
“That sucks.” He looked up to find Sawyer glaring down at him. Crap. He really wasn’t leaving. Focusing back on the boards, Dalton replied, “Well, what do you want then?”
“It’s time to stop punishing yourself and come back to swimming.”
Dalton closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “As you know, due to a tree, an unfortunately placed curve, a bottle of Jack, and a seriously sweet Viper, I will never swim competitively again. Thank you, though, for bringing up such lovely memories.” Dalton went back to hammering.
A lot of things could happen to swimmers’ bodies that would still allow them to be competitive. Reconstructive surgery to repair severe muscle, joint, and bone damage to a shoulder wasn’t one of them.
“I’m not talking about swimming, and you know it.”
“I’m not coaching either.” They’d been over this before, a number of times. Sawyer had the misfortunate notion that coaching a bunch of entitled college kids into world-class athletes would somehow help Dalton let go of his past failures.
“Dalton, you need more than this, man. When you walked away from that courtroom, all you had left in life was a sweetheart plea deal and the ability to pretend you didn’t give a fuck. You’ve been faltering ever since.”
Dalton refused to acknowledge him. It wouldn’t stop the bastard, but ignoring Sawyer gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. Predictably, it didn’t work.
Sawyer went for the gold. “I need you to coach her.”
Dalton froze. By her, of course, Sawyer meant Jessi Pruitt, America’s kindest, sexiest little sweetheart, and the one girl in this entire world that had gotten under his rather thick skin. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I heard she made the team. Good for her, and you, and everyone else, but I’m sure as shit not coming back to coach Jessi Pruitt.”
There could be nothing worse than seeing that woman again. Most men had the “one who got away” in their pasts. In his case, he’d done his damnedest to push that girl as far the fuck away as he could, and like the smart little thing she was, she’d run screaming. Or crying, as the case had been.
God, it still embarrassed him to think about it. He couldn’t remember the woman he’d been with that night--not her name, not what she looked like, nothing. He had lost to Sawyer for the fourth time earlier that day. He had promptly started drinking, picked Jessi up as he had promised, and then left her to fend for herself while he found someone just as fucked up as he was to help him forget all the reasons he hated himself.
In a cruel twist of fate, while he couldn’t remember the bartender’s face, he could see with acuity a sweet, innocent Jessi catching him on the balcony with the woman. The look in her cornflower blue eyes had pissed him off more than the gold medals she had won. Jessi had been confused and surprised, but the thing that had set him off was the disappointment radiating from her angelic face.
>
Deep down, Dalton was a dick, and that disappointment had brought out the worst in him. He’d chided her for caring about him, for thinking their time together was anything more than friendship, and pretended to go back to the festivities at hand. In reality, he’d waited until she went inside, then excused himself. Jack Daniels was always better equipped to handle self-loathing than any woman could be.
He would regret everything about that night for the rest of his life, but that didn’t mean he was eager to confront the woman in question or to make amends for his transgressions. Some things were better left in the past.
“Don’t you think that it’s time you and she talked it out? You know, clear the air. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, move on.”
“No,” Dalton said forcefully. Sawyer was all about that self-actualization crap. It didn’t make him right. The last thing Dalton needed was a not-so-happy reunion. He could just imagine what an epic fail that would be.
Sawyer barked out an angry laugh. “This is ridiculous. You two seriously need to get over your shit. I’m offering you this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re worried about a three-week relationship from eight years ago. You two are unbelievable.”
“I take it she wasn’t on board either.” Dalton could just imagine Jessi’s face when Sawyer had told her the news.
“No. She wasn’t.”
“But she’ll toe the line because her hero says it’s the right thing to do?” His lips quirked at the image of the two blondies bonding over the opportunity to save his soul. God help him.
“Actually, she told me to go to hell.”
“Really?” Dalton’s eyes popped open. He couldn’t imagine the Jessi he remembered saying anything like that, ever.
“Her vocabulary has expanded exponentially in the last eight years,” Sawyer said dryly.
“Well, Coach, it looks like you have your answer. There are plenty of butterflyers on your team, and plenty of people to coach them. Find someone else to help Pruitt. She doesn’t want it, and neither do I.”
In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) Page 1