“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She glared up at him.
Dalton hunched down on his knees, like he’d seen his old coaches do hundreds of times. The thing about indoor pools was that loud sounds carried. Low sounds, not so much. A coach had to be really close to a swimmer to make sure she heard him.
“Okay, here’s the deal, Jessi. I was a dick, and I’m sorry. There. You’ve got my apology.” The look on her face clearly indicated that he needed to work on apologies. “Not good enough?”
“No.”
“Fine.” Dalton stood and put his hands on his hips. He looked around the pool for some inspiration and, finding none, decided to bite the bullet. “I’m sorry that I led you on—”
“You kissed me.”
Jesus, she wasn’t going to give him an inch. “Well, yeah. That too. I’m sorry that I kissed you—”
“Clearly.”
“No. That’s not what I meant! God, just please be quiet for a sec so I can apologize, okay?”
She started to put her goggles back on again. If she thought she was going to go back to her workout...
“Oh, hell no,” he said to a retreating Jessi.
She ignored him.
Damn it, he was the coach here, and she was not dismissing him like this. “Don’t do it, Pruitt,” he warned.
She gave him an evil glare. “I have to get back to work here. If you’re done?”
“Yeah. Not quite.” He started again. “I’m sorry I led you on—which included kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that.” She was waiting for more, and he dearly didn’t want to give it to her. But he would. To have a chance at Olympic gold, he would do this. “I’m sorry I made fun of you.”
“It was my first kiss, you know.”
He closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know. And just to be clear, I’m not talking about making fun of your kissing.” He had liked the kiss an awful lot. It might have been her first, but it was his sweetest.
“Then what are you sorry for?”
She was going to make him say it. Aw, hell. “I’m sorry that I left you the night of the celebration party to have sex with a bartender. That was uncalled for.”
Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Uncalled for? You not only left me alone at a party you brought me to, but when I caught you outside, you let your new date call me a child. You tried to let her think I was your little sister! It was cruel.”
Man, it sounded so much worse when she said it.
Dalton coughed. “Yes. And it was also eight years ago.”
She simply glared at him. Apparently, his attempt to redirect their conversation wasn’t appreciated. “Still, for what it’s worth, I was stupid and young, but I knew better. You were naïve, and I knew you thought what we had was more than what I was willing to give you. This isn’t an excuse for my behavior. I was flat out wrong. But Jessi, you have to understand, you had everything I wanted, including a gold medal, and I...I was pissed at you. Just so you know, I was pissed at everyone that night.”
Jessi was silent. She stared up at him with those blue eyes, and he felt like the jerk he was all over again.
“I just have one question.”
He was wary, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Shoot.”
“Why did you get involved with me in the first place?”
Well, that was easy to answer. She’d always been golden. She didn’t know what it was like to be anything less than perfect. He looked straight into the eyes that had mesmerized him years ago, and for the first time admitted what had bothered him for so long. “You were as close to gold as I was likely to get.”
Jessi could not believe this. This was supposed to be her moment! Here she was, prepared to stick it to Dalton, and he was going all deep and tortured on her. She really hadn’t envisioned what he would do when they finally saw each other again, but what she did know was that she hadn’t expected him to be...nice...ish.
She shouldn’t have been surprised Dalton would ruin this for her. Despite his apology, the man was a jerk. It was what he did. He wasn’t going to get away with it this time though. She was onto his tricks. She had learned what was on the other side of that charm the hard way. Dalton might be her coach, and she might have to work with him, even listen to him, but he was mistaken if he thought he was going to have the upper hand with her ever again.
“So, what you’re saying is that you were a loser who couldn’t win gold?”
Dalton had eyes so light blue she could almost see through them. Those eyes had made her think the naughtiest thoughts her eighteen-year-old mind had been capable of. Right now, they were narrowing in on her with what looked like extreme dislike. She smiled sweetly at him in response.
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
“So, why did you have to take me down with you?”
“I was under the impression you bounced back nicely,” he said dryly.
“Oh, I did. I’m sure you saw all the Wheaties boxes with my picture plastered on them when you got home from Brazil.” She wouldn’t give Dalton the satisfaction of knowing she’d cried for weeks after he’d left. When the tears had finally subsided, all that remained was a certain numbness that followed her through her first year of college.
“Sorry, I must have missed those.”
“Well, I was too young to be put on beer cans, so I can see how you might have overlooked them.”
“I preferred whiskey back then, but well played, Pruitt. I see time hasn’t made you bitter or anything.” The last part was said lightly with a little wink at the end.
She could tell he was trying to ease the situation with his innate charm. It was a strategy she remembered well. He liked to couple his inner jerk with a sexy smile that eased some of the sting his words left behind. In his defense, it usually worked. The man shouldn’t be allowed to flash that thing.
The fact that Jessi found herself even slightly attracted to this ass—ever—made her even more upset about their current situation. “Are you done having fun? Like I said, I have to get back to work.”
Dalton let the charm slip and put on a serious face. “Jessi, we’ve got to figure out a way to work together. You know it as well as I do.”
“Yes. I’m aware,” she snapped. She didn’t like him telling her what to do. Attempting to take back the upper hand, she leveled a direct look at him. “I have some conditions.”
“Okay.” Dalton sounded wary, and that was a good thing. He needed to be.
She braced her arms on the edge of the pool and pushed herself up so she could glare straight into his eyes. “First, don’t get the idea that this is eight years ago and I’m all in love with you. That crap is done with. Second, we aren’t doing a damn thing together. I will take your advice, and I won’t start anything, but this is my deal here, and I will take care of it. You’re here, and I can’t—or at least won’t—do anything about that. But I will be damned if you are a part of my life in any way, shape, or form. You’re my coach in name only. Got it?”
She was playing tough. She needed him to think she was made of steel. Jessi was running out of time and couldn’t afford to show weakness.
Unfortunately, Dalton didn’t buy the act.
“Nope. And apparently neither do you,” he replied, standing up. He looked over his shoulder as he walked away. “I’ll meet you halfway though. I agree. You do not have a thing for me. I’m happy you got the chance to vent. I’ll see you after breakfast.”
Oh, the ass was just trying to piss her off!
He also strategically ignored the wet mass that hit him square between the shoulder blades. Jessi Pruitt, grown woman and team captain of the United States Olympic Swim Team, had just thrown her swim cap at him. He stopped short, cocked his head to the side, but never turned around. Instead, he continued straight to the pool’s exit.
Chapter 4
“You threw your swim cap at him? Why? What did he say?”
Jessi was eating breakfast with Amelia Robertson, the youngest member of t
he U.S. Swim Team. The girl had come out of nowhere at trials. Given their similar backgrounds, Jessi felt compelled to take Amelia under her wing.
“Unfortunately, nothing,” Jessi muttered. “It would have been so much more satisfying if he had.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “But he just kept walking. Which is probably best.” Jessi supposed she’d better play the adult here.
That did not, however, mean she was going to review tape with Dalton. There was no way she was caving to that man’s demands. Her happy little butt would be on its way to physical therapy right after she worked up the gumption to eat the crappy breakfast lying in front of her.
“I would love to tell my coaches off like that. The breaststroking staff are complete douches.”
Jessi smiled. She remembered that feeling well. “It’s tough being the youngest person on the team. You’re being held to standards most adults would squirm under. Still, you have to play along. Coaches tend to be douches. It’s part of the job description. Sadly, so is being right, and most of the time, they are.”
“I know,” Amelia grumbled. “I just don’t see why you get to mouth off and I don’t.”
“Listen, Dalton and I have known each other a long time. We were teammates back in Brazil. We just rub each other the wrong way and say and do stupid stuff. We don’t mean anything by it,” Jessi lied. She quickly added, “I mean it, Amelia, don’t ever do that to a coach, okay? I really shouldn’t have, and if I didn’t know Dalton better, I wouldn’t have.” That part, at least, was true.
“Not to worry. I saw the way Coach McKinney looked at you. I would never say anything like that to a coach like him. That guy is hard sauce,” Amelia said in wide-eyed honesty.
That part was probably true as well. Amelia was clearly terrified of Dalton, and she didn’t scare easily. “That’s good. It’s important to listen to your coaches. I know they’re tough, but they have your best interests in mind. Keep your head down and listen to everything they say. Your job is to support your teammates and swim as fast as you can. Let them do the rest.”
A teenager through and through, Amelia gave a sigh of the perpetually afflicted. “He might be mean, but it’d be so much easier to listen if my coaches looked like him. If I were you, I wouldn’t fight with him. I’d be all ‘yes, sir, and what else can I do for you, Coach McKinney?’” She batted her eyelashes.
What was wrong with kids these days?
Jessi pursed her lips. She had noticed the girls looking at Dalton. She couldn’t blame them—he exuded sex appeal. But seriously, a little self-dignity would be nice. “Trust me--good looks are not all they’re cracked up to be.”
“They don’t hurt.”
“Just note that the good-looking ones usually know it. Don’t fall for their crap.”
The thought of Dalton and his good looks made her already waning appetite almost non-existent. This wasn’t helped in the slightest by her disgustingly healthy breakfast. Man, eating during an Olympic year sucked.
“It’s not like any of the guys notice me anyway,” Amelia grumbled. At sixteen and gangly, she’d yet to grow into herself.
“Give it time. They will.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Amelia nodded and pushed her food around her plate. “Why were you guys fighting anyway?”
God, she didn’t want to talk about this. They hadn’t made it through the morning yet, and people were already whispering about Dalton and her. “He just told me I had to fix some things with my fly. I guess I have a hard time taking directions from some guy who used to be a teammate, you know?”
“You don’t have problems taking directions from Coach Jameson.” Amelia eyed her with suspicion.
Jessi tried not to be annoyed. “Yeah, but Sawyer was better than me,” she said with a conspiratorial grin. “Dalton wasn’t.” Jessi wasn’t normally cocky, but when the situation called for it...
Amelia laughed and started back into her food. She stopped mid bite though and looked up, mouth and eyes gaping like a scared fish. Someone was obviously standing behind Jessi, and that someone frightened Amelia. There were only two people that really intimated her, and Jessi had the sinking feeling it was someone in particular. Someone who was not Sawyer.
“Jessi, we need to go over that tape.”
Damn it. Seriously? He had to interrupt her breakfast... such as it was.
“I told you I would meet you in the film room after I was finished,” she tersely lied without looking up from her tray. After her little speech to Amelia about listening to coaches, Jessi couldn’t afford to look hypocritical. The girl was already onto her. Still, she wasn’t going to meet with him, ever. She saw absolutely no reason to let him—or Amelia—in on this little tidbit of information.
“Actually, no, you didn’t. Unless, that is, you consider throwing your swim cap at me a way of telling me you’ll see me later.” Dalton paused.
Since she refused to look at him, she couldn’t be sure what had grabbed his attention, but Jessi got the feeling he was looking at her food. She resisted the immature urge to wrap her arms around her tray and hunch over it to keep him from his perusal.
“Besides,” Dalton continued, “given what they’re feeding you this morning, it could be hours before you finally work up the nerve to choke it down. Just bring it with you.”
Jessi spared Dalton a glance over her shoulder. Just as she’d thought—he was currently looking at her plate with some disgust. As her coach, he would have all the stats on her, from when she started her period to how much she weighed in the morning and at night. His knowledge would extend to what she consumed at her carefully appointed meal times, too.
So, yeah, he probably knew what she was being forced to eat this morning: a meal carefully planned out and individualized for each swimmer by the team’s nutritionist. The reality of actually seeing the food, as opposed to reading it on a spreadsheet, seemed to be bringing back some bad memories for Dalton. Jessi aborted her earlier plan and leaned to the side so he could get a better look.
Dalton scowled at her, then turned around and headed for the doors of the cafeteria. Man, he was taking this coach thing seriously. He was playing the jerk well. Then again, that was really his forte.
“You’d better go,” Amelia whispered, even though Dalton was well out of earshot.
Damn it. Jessi’s conscience was getting the better of her. After her inspiring speech about following coaches’ orders, she could hardly skip out on Dalton now. She smiled at Amelia reassuringly. “His bark is meaner than his bite. Don’t worry.”
Amelia didn’t really have to worry. She was a distance swimmer, and a breaststroker at that. The likelihood of her working directly with Dalton was slim. He was all about fast and hard. Long distance breaststroking didn’t fit that description.
Nevertheless, Jessi reached across the table and gave Amelia’s arm a little squeeze. Then she got up, grabbed her tray, and walked out of the cafeteria. Better to get this over with so she could focus on fixing her stroke and getting rid of Dalton McKinney.
Chapter 5
Jessi entered the film room that was reserved for watching tape. In this day and age, it was actually digital media; the vocabulary hadn’t caught up with the technology. Dalton was queuing the footage of her practice at the computer. He’d had ample time to get things set up.
She looked at his face. He was working hard to keep his features in check, but she could see a little pink on his cheeks. Ah, the curse of the Irish--beautiful, blushing cheeks. She’d have to keep that in mind. Dalton McKinney did have tells after all.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?” He didn’t look up.
“For keeping the lights on. I really do appreciate it, but it’s not like I’m uncomfortable with you.”
“Yeah, well, the last time I saw you, I was doing something a little...inappropriate. I thought you might be more comfortable if the first time we were in a room alone together it was a lit one.”
“Um, so you know I’ve had sex at this po
int, right?”
Dalton’s eyes popped open.
“It’s not like I was traumatized by what you were doing in Brazil. Well, at least not forever, anyway. I’m well over the shock and awe of Dalton McKinney. Turns out you’re not a sexual deviant after all.”
It annoyed her to no end that she was letting him off so easy, but the fact that he’d left the lights on was just the tiniest bit touching. He must have really thought he’d scarred her.
Well, he kind of had. She took it as the olive branch it was.
Her forgiving mood deteriorated substantially as her eyes fixed on the croissant sandwich and hash browns encased in a take-out box on the desk next to him. The box was wide-open and sinfully aromatic.
“You rat bastard!”
Dalton’s head jerked back up from the screen. He followed her eyes to the food and grinned. “What?” he asked innocently.
“Oh, you know what. You are not supposed to have that stuff in here!”
“Jessi, coaches have been sneaking food in since the center was opened. I once caught Coach Burt and his buddies killing three different kinds of deep dish pizza.” He paused and tilted his head. “Although, I think that was part of Burt’s sick and twisted coaching style. He enjoyed making cocky swimmers suffer.”
“Speaking of Burt,” Jessi huffed, “You seem to be following in his footsteps nicely.”
Dalton snorted. “I wouldn’t say that, but I’m trying.” He smiled.
Dalton’s eyes were still as unnerving as they had been eight years ago. Framed by dark brown curls, they stood out like beautiful, light blue jewels. The rest of him looked good too, unfortunately. He was still fit as ever, fatty breakfast foods notwithstanding, the ass.
Jessi chided herself once again for being in any way attracted to this man. He was trouble for her, through and through. But his eyes told a rough and hard story, and it was a story she’d always been a sucker for.
“Jessi, seriously. I’m trying to be a good coach here. I’m sorry for the past, and believe me, I wish it wouldn’t have happened. I really do want to get you where you need to be. So...” Dalton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Take it for what it’s worth.”
In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) Page 3