“Can we not talk about that please?”
“I’m not wrong, am I?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You and I cannot have a relationship. We cannot mess around. We cannot...whatever.”
Dalton was pleased to see that she was struggling with defining things too. Jessi took a breath and looked like she was trying for something better to end on.
“Look, I don’t know what this is. I seriously don’t. It might just be close proximity and lack of better options, but there isn’t anything real going on here. Once this is over, we will go our separate ways and never think about each other.” Jessi turned and walked toward the locker room.
“Jess.” Yeah, he said it on purpose. This conversation was not over, but he needed to get her mind in the game. She wasn’t going to like this, but he was going to have to piss her off and get her focused. “Two things.”
She spun around. “What?”
Dalton had his back to her, already heading to join Sawyer in the observation room, but turned to look over his shoulder. “One: That is complete bullshit and we are going to address this little situation later. Two: I might have been a jackass, but you still want me. You’re gonna have to wait though, sweetheart, because we have a lot of work to do. So get your cute little ass in line and let’s get it done.” With a wicked grin he was happy as hell she couldn’t see, Dalton disappeared around the corner, leaving Jessi pissed off and hopefully ready to kick some ass.
Chapter 12
“Damn, that woman is fast!” Sawyer was looking down at Jessi from his and Dalton’s perch in the observation deck. A slow smile spread across his face. “She’s back, isn’t she?”
“Looks like.” Dalton was staring at the same dark figure in the water but thinking about something completely different concerning the woman they were watching.
Sawyer grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Good job, man. I’m serious,” he added when Dalton tried to brush off the compliment. “You’ve done a great job with her. She needed something, and you gave it to her.”
Dalton laughed nervously. Oh, if Sawyer only knew what he’d wanted to give her. “Honestly, man, I just pissed her off a couple of minutes ago. That’s all this is.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. It worked,” Sawyer replied.
“Yeah, it did,” Dalton sighed dubiously. “Look, I gotta go down and stop her to see how she feels. It’s that second fifty that starts to wear on her. I’ll talk to you after practice.”
“Cool. Listen, let’s give the adult swimmers a break tonight. Nothing big, but maybe an extended curfew and lifted restrictions on where they can go.”
“All right. They do need a break. How lifted do you want to go?” Dalton asked.
“They can go out. Can’t drink, of course, but we’ll raise the curfew to eleven o’clock.” Sawyer paused, then added, “In that regard, why don’t you and I do the same, but let’s disregard the no drinking part. I could use a break. And a drink.” He smiled at Dalton.
“Yes. I think that is an excellent idea, Coach.” Dalton felt his body relax as he headed down the stairs. If he needed anything, a night out was it.
Dalton’s aim was damn near perfect. You had to lead the swimmers just a little bit so that you didn’t actually hit them, but close enough that the water bottle distracted them out of their stroke. More often than not though, he hit them. Kinda on purpose.
He didn’t think, given his previous encounter with Jessi, that hitting her was wise. First, she was already seriously pissed and might come after him. Second, that would kind of be like a third grader kicking the girl he liked. He liked Jessi all right, but she’d probably call him on it and that would seriously ruin the effect he was looking for by throwing the water bottle in the first place. Hard to look tough if he was accused of flirting.
Problem was, Jessi was really fast. He hadn’t realized how much her stroke was improving and didn’t account for the added speed. Plus, she was in lane two, so he had to work the extra distance into the equation. The water bottle—it was only half filled; he wasn’t a tyrant for crying out loud—hit her right on the ass. Damn, damn, damn!
“What the hell, Dalton?” Jessi sputtered as she brought her head out of the water, distracted mid-stroke and fumbling for footing.
“Oh, shit...I’m sorry. Bad aim.” He seriously hadn’t meant to hit her, but was still trying really hard not to laugh. She looked ridiculous stopping mid fly, and it was really freaking funny. Now, she just looked pissed...and damn cute.
She swam over to the side of the pool, ducking under the lane rope and coming up to the side. “For someone supposedly attracted to me, you sure have interesting ways of flirting.” Jessi hissed through clenched teeth. “Real mature, Dalton.”
See, he knew she’d call him on it. “I seriously did not mean to hit you. But now that you mention it, yeah I’m probably flirting. Since I can’t do what I really want to do to the girl I like, I might as well get some kicks, eh?”
“If you don’t knock it off, I will give you all the kicks you can handle,” Jessi pitched back.
“Promise?” Dalton gave her an evil grin and winked, just for good measure.
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” Jessi had a strong desire to hate Dalton. She had an even stronger desire to shield herself from unneeded drama...and butt trauma. She rubbed the offended spot on her bottom.
Unfortunately, she also really wanted to know what he wanted to do to her. The smoldering look in his eyes hinted at things Jessi would really, really, really like.
“What do you want, Dalton? If you hadn’t noticed, I was swimming there.”
“I told you I’d check on you halfway through your warm up. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine, actually,” Jessi said, a bit surprised. She hadn’t expected to feel this good so early in the practice.
“Yeah, you really are.” His voice was soft, and his eyes had lost some of the edge they usually carried. She blushed a little, looking quickly down to inspect the pool’s drain.
“Thanks. I mean, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t worked me through it.”
“Yeah, you would be.” Dalton smiled at her. “It might not have looked as good,” he added quickly. “And it certainly would have taken a lot longer, but you would have worked it out. Now we can get down to the real workouts.” He turned to leave.
“Real workouts? You mean these haven’t been real workouts?” It wasn’t a serious question. Jessi was more or less teasing. She was well aware that she’d been doing lighter workouts to help get her shoulder back in shape. She really just didn’t want Dalton to go. Okay, fine, call it flirting. She was nothing if not masochistic.
Dalton eyes were smoldering. “Believe me, you’ll know when I give you a full workout.” He didn’t wink this time. Instead, another slow and wicked grin spread across his beautiful mouth. He turned away, barely acknowledging the deliberate double-entendre.
Jessi watched as Dalton made his way down the poolside. “Crappity, crap, crap,” she mumbled.
“What? Did you say something?” One of the other swimmers in her lane, Tanner—a cocky little son-of-a-bitch that Dalton loved to pick on, had stopped his lap to see if she needed anything.
Jessi took stock of her situation. She was just hanging out on the side of the pool, looking like something might be wrong. Well, it kind of was, now wasn’t it?
“Oh, sorry. I just got a cramp. Didn’t mean to stop you up.”
“I hate it when that happens. Coach should know better than to stop you so fast,” Tanner said, glancing at the water bottle still floating in the lane. “I hear older people really gotta cool down before they get out of the pool.”
Jessi fixed him with a stare and took an uncharacteristic indulgence afforded by her seniority on the team. She picked up the water bottle. “Take this to the end of the lane and make sure it gets thrown away.” She pushed off the wall and swam back to the end of the lane to start her set over before Dalton could think of ne
w and creative ways to torture her, both mentally and physically.
“Tanner, you weren’t wrong in your assessment of the elderly.” Jessi pulled herself out of the pool with the last bit of strength she had.
“Huh?” The kid was dragging himself out of the pool, just like her. Dalton had been relentless on all of them.
“Nothing.” If this was Dalton’s way of projecting his sexual frustration, he’d been successful. She hurt, her lungs were bursting, and as she took her first steps on land, her legs wobbled. She was thoroughly worn out.
Jessi took off her cap and grabbed a seat on the bleachers. She found her towel and proceeded to dry out her curls. A trainer came over and started rubbing her shoulder, which got immediate attention after each workout. She sat back and groaned with relief.
“Keep it moving, Jess.” Her trainer’s voice seemed far away, given the odd acoustics of the pool, the water that was still in her ears, and the blood pounding through her head. “You gotta keep the muscles warm. Don’t stop ‘em cold.”
Yeah, Dalton, Jessi thought. Listen to the trainer. Don’t stop a girl’s muscles cold. She was pretty sure it was a “That’s what she said” moment, but was too tired to work the joke out. Instead, she took a breath and let the aching muscles move with the assistance of her trainer.
The rest of the swimmers had made their way over to Jessi’s spot on the bleachers. They all congregated together at the end of practice to get their directions from the coaches. Today, Dalton was in charge. He walked over with his clipboard. He had an air of authority Jessi would have sworn was foreign to him just a few short weeks ago. Now it just seemed to be a natural part of him.
“You guys did well today. We have a lot of work to do, but you’re getting there.” He took a few moments to go over the announcements and laid out the schedule for the rest of the day. Then he stopped, looked around, and smiled to the group. “Coach Jameson is giving you a night off. If you’re over 18 and out of high school, you are free to leave the facility and do whatever you like from seven until eleven. We’ll start practice an hour late tomorrow. For those of you who don’t meet those requirements, we’ll be showing a movie in the commons. Bring your pillows and blankets. The coaching staff will be providing popcorn and soda—one soda each.”
Dalton left the group to a chorus of groans. A little smile played on the corner of his lips. He knew, just like Jessi did, what it was like to be a kid on an Olympic team. After you made it through trials, you lost all freedom, if you’d had any in the first place. That included what you ate.
Jessi noticed that Dalton left out what dietary restrictions the older swimmers were to follow. He didn’t need to tell them “no drinking.” Every athlete knew alcohol was off limits during training, and as the bad boy of U.S. Swimming, Dalton knew it best of all.
Jessi’s trainer broke her out of her contemplations. “Where do you think you’ll go on your night off?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ll probably stay in. I don’t really do the whole going out thing much anyway. Besides, while I’m training, it’s really not that fun. There’s something so depressing about being in a bar and not being able to drink.” This was patently true, but the real answer was that Jessi didn’t really have anyone to go out with. The other swimmers were younger than her and had their own thing going on.
Before she could feel too bad for herself, a familiar blond head started to make its way through the crowd of departing Speedos. “Hello, my love.”
Great. She could barely breathe, was beet red from exertion, and here was Claudel, weaseling his shady little way into an interview. She could tell by the cajoling tone in his voice that he intended to flirt his way there, too.
“Hi, Claudel,” she replied dispassionately. She didn’t have the energy to fight off his advances right now.
Claudel moved in for the kill. “Jessi, you are swimming so well. I am so proud of you. To come back like that...that’s something, my love.”
“Please, please, Claudel, knock it off with the ‘my love’ crap. I’m not in the mood. I’m tired and I’m sore. I just got my ass kicked by Dalton’s workout, and all I really want to do is go to my room, watch something I’ve DVR’d, and go to sleep.” Jessi knew her voice sounded pathetically pleading, but she was desperate to find some rest.
“Great! I’ll join you. That sounds like the perfect evening to me. No wedding shows though, Jessi. Those creep me out.” Claudel reached out to pull her up.
“I’m pretty sure Sawyer’s easing up on curfew doesn’t include letting guys into our rooms. Even the married people can’t be with their partners, Claudel. What makes you think they’re going to let you into the dorms?”
“Jessi, please. I’m a reporter.” Claudel’s accent was all but gone now. He was feeling confident and losing the act. “We’ll just say we’re doing the interview in your room. Besides, you know those rules are meant to be broken. I can’t count how many women I’ve had in my room while I’ve been training.”
By now, Claudel had succeeded in getting her to her feet. She had been far too tired to spend the energy required to fight him. At this, though, Jessi felt a kick of energy.
“I don’t know what the French Olympic Swimming Team does in its downtime, but I know that crap doesn’t fly with U.S. Team. Maybe that’s why we keep kicking your ass.” Jessi sauntered closer to Claudel, bringing her lips seductively close to his ear. “Regardless, Claudel, I’m pretty sure we were dating during at least one of those Olympics you like to brag about, so I seriously hope you were able to sneak a few condoms into your room along with the girls.” That last bit had been harsh and unnecessary. Like Jessi, Claudel was careful. Asshole he might be, but he was ridiculously tedious about his person.
Her venom seemed to work its magic. Claudel had stepped back a little and looked as though he was trying to dig his way out of a hole. She snorted in disgust. He was guilty as hell. She took the opportunity to start walking away. She didn’t care that he might have cheated on her. She’d been pretty sure that he had anyway. At the moment, she just really wanted to be rid of him.
As she left the pool, she looked over her shoulder. Claudel was still standing there, staring at her, a look of contemplation on his face. Great. He was thinking of his next move. Jessi supposed that as long as it didn’t come tonight, he could plot all he wanted to.
Before she exited through the double doors that led to the women’s locker room, she felt the strange feeling of being stared at. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. Then, just as she stepped through the doors, Jessi looked up into the observation windows above her. There, with hands on his hips and looking pissed, stood Dalton.
Double great. Jessi stepped through the doors and prayed for peace.
She really needed to go to church more. Maybe then God would answer her prayers. After showering and pulling on a pair of Team USA yoga pants and white stretch tank top, Jessi felt the stirrings of being a real person again. That changed abruptly as she stepped out of the locker room.
“I cannot believe you slept with that guy.”
She’d taken extra care to take a long time in the shower, hoping to thwart any attempts from angry men looking to confront her. She’d succeeded in waiting out all of her teammates and a certain French reporter, but Dalton was made of stronger stuff. He stood right outside the doors, alone, pacing, and upset.
“How do you know I slept with him?” Jessi said offhandedly, moving past him.
“Pfft, please. Give me a break, Jessi. I’m not blind.”
She stopped, turned around, and folded her arms over her chest. “Okay, better question: How is it any of your business?”
“I’m just concerned for you.”
It was Jessi’s turn to make disgusted noises. She turned and started to walk away. She would put up with a lot, but this was too much.
“Yes, I’m aware of how ironic that is,” Dalton answered her unspoken question. “But I’m your coach, and I need you focused right now.”
&
nbsp; Jessi whirled around. “I am completely focused right now. Claudel and I are not together. Nor are we getting together.”
“Right now,” Dalton took the liberty to finish to her sentence.
“Whatever. But yes. For what it’s worth, no, we are not getting together right now.” Jessi failed to elaborate that she had no intentions of ever getting back together with Claudel, but that was a little more information than Dalton deserved. It also fell under the header of “Not Dalton’s Business.”
“Jessi, you can do so much better than him. He looks like a drowned rat, for Christ’s sake!”
“What, you mean his hair?” That was an actual question. The hair really was an entity unto itself.
“Well, yes, that too. But have you seen the guy in his Speedo? He can barely hold it up!”
“Actually, I’ve seen him in much less than his Speedo, and I assure you, he can hold it up quite well.”
“Cute.”
“Seriously, Dalton, when is the last time you saw Claudel? Did you even know him?”
“Yessss,” Dalton replied childishly. “I mean, no, I didn’t know him. He was like seventeen. Why would I care? But,” he added hastily, “he wasn’t much to look at and he sure as hell wasn’t much of a swimmer.”
“Like that really matters, Dalton. And besides, he was a fine swimmer.”
“Just the fact that you have to use the word fine proves that he couldn’t swim for shit.”
Jessi snorted again, oddly enjoying the sight of Dalton rattled.
“Well, no, he wasn’t as good as you,” she admitted.
“Or you.” Dalton put in, as though that had anything to do with it.
“So it should matter how good a swimmer my future boyfriends are, or were?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Um, yeah. That’s just obvious, Jessi. I don’t even know why you’d ask.”
“Well he beat your time in the fifty free.”
In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) Page 8