by Sean Michael
“I’m not interested. Give me the keys.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not. I didn’t do good enough. I got work to do. You can do what you want. I’m out of here.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you didn’t do good enough? You were fucking perfect, Austin. That the judges weren’t willing to give the gold to the new kid on the block is their bad, not yours.”
“Well, then, I’ll work harder ’til they have to. I’m not doing this here.”
“No, we don’t have to do this here, but you need to go out there and get your medal—look them in the eye and let them know that you know it should be gold, that you’re not going anywhere and they’re going to have to deal with it.”
He grabbed a cheese sandwich out of his bag and pushed it at Austin. “Eat this—you’ll feel better. And then come on out and show them you belong here. The divers and coaches want you out there—they know the real deal when they see it.”
“This isn’t about my sugars.” Austin put his hat on, pushing past Vince and heading to the group of divers, looking as out of place as a man could.
Well, Austin was his own man, and there he was, proving it.
He also belonged here, and there he was, proving it.
Vince was so proud he thought he might bust.
The ceremony started, the announcer called out the name of the bronze diver, and the boy went up and got his medal with a bright smile.
Then Austin, the spectators cheering as soon as his name was announced.
Austin clomped up in those pointed-toed boots, tipped his hat to the judges.
Vince cheered and whistled. They were going to remember Austin at the next meet. He laughed and clapped some more.
Austin stood through the ceremony, then headed over to meet him, handing him the silver medal. “You want it?”
“No, you keep it. It’ll make for some nice color variation when they get their heads out of their asses and give you the gold medals you deserve.”
“Yeah.” Austin dropped it in the bag, zipped it away.
Bobby Fields, the gold medal winner, came over and clapped Austin on the back. “Hey, dude. That dive was wicked cool. You and your coach gonna come have a beer with us?”
“Thanks.” Austin offered the kid a genuine, warm smile. “I might catch up with y’all. Where’re you headed?”
“We’re headed over to Players. They’ve got good munchies to go with the beer. You should come.”
“Good burgers there.” Austin nodded, took a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see y’all over there.”
“Cool! See you later.” Bobby clapped Austin on the shoulder and then took off over to where his coach and teammates were, leaving Vince and Austin heading back into the locker room again to pick up their stuff.
Austin’s boots sounded damn loud on the tile, the noise making Vince smile.
“Hey, baby.” He waited until Austin looked over at him. “Well done.”
“I can do better.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you can—but I’m really proud of what you did today.”
“It wasn’t first.”
“You know that had nothing to do with the work you did. I. Am. Proud. Of. You.” He punctuated each word with his finger against Austin’s chest.
Austin’s cheeks went bright, hot red. “Thanks, Coach. I tried.”
“I know you did. I saw those dives.” He beamed at Austin. “I have never seen you perform that last dive better. Watching you today was almost better than sex.”
Almost. Maybe even better than sex with anyone not Austin himself.
Austin relaxed and Vince nodded. Whatever had been stressing his diver out was gone, eased up.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go celebrate.”
“Yeah, Vince. Let’s get us a celebratory beer.”
Yeah. The first one of many.
Exclusive Excerpt
Despite a life-threatening injury sustained in a vaulting accident, top gymnast Christopher Allen is determined to get back to his former perfect condition and compete again. Brian Rainings is a coach in need of someone to believe in, and he takes Chris on, admiring the spirit and determination that drives Chris to succeed. And admiring the sturdy, muscled body Chris maintains.
Admiration soon leads to something much hotter as they train together. From their scorching first kiss, Brian and Chris’s chemistry is obvious, but they have a long road ahead to get Chris back into shape. Months of hard work lead to success, with Chris gaining strength every day and finally finding the elusive sponsor he needs for financial support. Secrets, hidden dangers, and family troubles plague them, though, and they have to face the fact that Chris might never compete again and score that perfect ten.
Coming Soon to
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Chapter One
BRIAN STOPPED in front of the diner and just looked at the door for a moment.
It was one of those silver bullet, old-style diners, the chrome dull with age, the windows shining clean and bright. It was a strange place for a job interview, but that’s essentially what this was.
He’d heard through the grapevine that Christopher Allen was trying to make a comeback after his vault accident, despite the fact that his coach and corporate sponsorship had bailed on him. He’d also heard it was a long shot, that the guy was lucky he wasn’t in a wheelchair, let alone even thinking about competing again. Scuttlebutt said Christopher was too old to start over, too injured, too past it.
And too stubborn to admit it.
Brian liked that in an athlete.
So he’d called and asked for a meeting. He hadn’t told Christopher he’d have to fly in just for this meeting. He’d kept it casual—let’s have lunch at that little place on the corner of Smith and Fifth.
This could change his whole life. Not that he didn’t like coaching the girls at the private school where he was working, but he missed men’s gymnastics, missed being involved, the feeling of the powder on his hands, the shaking in his muscles as he pushed himself past the point of his endurance….
His own glory days, such as they were, were over, but he had a chance to coach someone else into that sweet place where hard work and achievement met.
He just had to convince Christopher Allen that he was the man for the job.
He took a breath and went in, the sounds of the street replaced by the sound of people talking, china and silverware clinking, the smell of grease filling his noise.
He scanned the booths, looking for Christopher.
It took him a second to find the guy, the signature blond hair dull and overgrown where it was bent over a menu, the square jaw hidden by a scrappy beard. The man had lost some weight, some form. Brian could see the musculature still evident through the tight T-shirt.
He made his way over slowly, that feeling coming over him, the one that said this was a moment he wanted to remember, one he wanted to be sure to live in.
He stopped at Christopher’s booth and cleared his throat. “Christopher Allen? Hi, I’m Brian Rainings.”
“Hey there. Call me Chris.” Chris stood, unfolding himself from the booth, the motion a little awkward, a little stiff. “Nice to meet you. How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks. What about you? How’re you doing?”
“Doing good. Doing real good.” One square hand was offered over. “Have a seat, man.”
He shook Chris’ hand. The man had a good grip, warm and firm, not overbearing. “Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to see me.”
Chris might have been on the injured list and abandoned by his people, but the buzz around him had been incredible before the accident, and Brian figured he couldn’t be the only one who wanted this job.
“Sure. You and I competed together once, a long time ago. Back when I was a junior and you were on top.”
“Yeah, I do remember. The buzz in the locker room was all about this blond kid who was going to just smoke everyone in a few years.” The vinyl seats we
re surprisingly soft, like they’d been well taken care of.
“Yeah. Talk’s probably still the same, just for another kid.” It was a little unnerving, looking at Chris. One eye was a bright blue, the other a deep, dark green.
“It always is. Everyone wants to discover the next big thing. Of course, I might just be sitting right in front of him.” Brian grinned, knowing he was laying it on thick.
Chris chuckled, eyes dancing. “You do know I had back surgery, yeah?”
“Oh, you’re that Christopher Allen.” He winked and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I also know you’re looking to come back.”
“Looking to, yeah. I’ve been working on the trampoline, stretches, getting up to speed. I want to be ready.”
“Sounds good. You tried any of the equipment yet? The vault?”
“The rings. The bar. No landings yet.”
“How’s it feel?” He still worked out using some old routines himself—it was a hard thing to give up, pushing your body to its limits and beyond like that, feeling high and free.
“Stiff. I’m loving the tramp work. I can’t do much else—nowhere wants a guy without a coaching staff doing much training.”
He nodded. “Yeah, they don’t want the responsibility. So you still need a coach, then?”
“Yeah, Harry and Jeff moved on. They got Les Martin and both Evvie and Jean Parsons. Three for the price of one, you know?”
“Sounds like a good deal. For them. Kind of left you in the lurch though, yeah?”
Man, that was a practiced shrug. “It’s a business. I’m not a sure thing.”
“Neither are they. What if there’s another accident? Harry and Jeff going to move on again?” He held up his hands. “Sorry, loyalty’s just a dying art, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. You want a burger? Chili dog?”
“Chili dog. With fries. And I hope they’re greasy.” And a milkshake. He loved diner food. “What about you? Burger? Chili dog? Coach Rainings?”
Those eyes just caught his, curious, questioning. “You haven’t even seen what I can do yet.”
“No, but I know what your heart is. You had every reason in the world to give up—between the surgery and losing all your support—but you didn’t. You’re still out there working, getting ready. I know I’m not a big name coach and I haven’t proved myself yet. I’m sure you’ve had a number of offers, but I promise you, I will meet you heart to heart and I won’t let you down.”
Chris nodded, stopped as the waitress came up. “I want a cup of black coffee, two beef patties with cheese and a salad.”
“Chili cheese dog, fries, and a chocolate milkshake, please.”
“Mmm. Chocolate.” Chris chuckled, winked. “Where do you like to work?”
“Well, frankly, I’d prefer somewhere small, quiet. You don’t need the pressure of a high profile gymnasium with big names. There’ll be pressure enough without that.”
“Yeah. I’d prefer to fall on my ass in private the first few zillion times.”
“There’s a facility in Monterey. I know the guy who owns it. It’s a beautiful town, weather’s nice, and it’s off the beaten path as far as gymnastics goes, but it’s still close enough to a lot of the big meets.”
“Monterey? Like California? Man, I don’t have any sponsors. I can’t afford an apartment out there.”
“Well, all it takes is one. Have you made any calls?” He started sorting names through his mind. Mars used to sponsor him; he bet if he gave Bob Silmon a call, he could work something out—they were good people.
“No. No. I…. Well, I sort of hoped that Harry and Jeff would….” Christopher stopped, blushed. “No, not yet.”
The waitress came with their drinks and he said, “Thank you,” waiting until she’d gone again before answering. “They aren’t going to, though, are they? But I’m here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not caught in the past, man. I’m not.”
“Well, I don’t know if anyone could blame you if you were, but in order to get past what happened, you are going to have to face forward, reach for that brass ring and not live in I-used-to-be-somebody land, you know?” He leaned forward. “You also need to do this because you have to. If you’re not going to put two hundred percent into it, you’re not going to come back.”
Chris met his eyes, gaze still, steady. “If I give it five hundred percent, there’s a good chance I won’t come back, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.” Jesus, Brian thought, there was some fury right there, just under the surface.
“I’m glad you know that. And now you know that I know it. So it’s all out in the open. And I’m still here.”
He took a sip of his drink, the bubbles fizzing in his mouth. He bet that anger alone would push Chris far. But it wouldn’t be enough on its own.
“So what do you get out of this? You looking for a springboard to the big leagues? Because I’ll be honest, I’ve just finished being that and it sucked.”
Chris finished one cup of coffee, motioned for another, offering the waitress a half smile of thanks.
“Well, I’ve got a job right now. Coaching gymnastics at a girl’s private school. The money is good. It’s steady work. And the girls are great, they really are. But it’s not…. Men’s gymnastics is where my heart is, but I don’t want to be some assistant coach for some big club or school. I want to work hands on with someone.” He gave the waitress a smile of his own as their food came. “I want a challenge. I want to believe in someone.”
“I hear that.” Chris dug into his burger, slathering it with mustard and using lettuce leaves for the bun.
Brian grinned as he dug into his fries. That was one thing he didn’t miss about competing—the constant need to watch your carb intake, to chart body-mass indexes, watching every pound you added, making sure it was all muscle.
“I can tell you this, Chris. If you agree to let me coach you, you will always have someone in your corner. Someone who will push you when you can’t push yourself, who will believe in you. Someone who will be in your corner no matter who or what else is around.”
Chris nodded, stared at the table. “I need to think about it. I have to finish this semester before I can do anything, before I can make plans.”
He nodded. “I’d heard you were back in school. How close are you to graduating?”
He hadn’t given up his day job. Hell, he wouldn’t be giving up his day job to train Chris, not to start with anyway. He had a few contacts in Monterey, knew there was a phys. ed. teaching position for him if this worked out. Until Chris had proved himself, sponsorship money was going to be damned tight.
“I have my bachelor’s in May. Then I have to decide where to go from there. There are lots of options.” Chris had a reputation for being driven, for being stubborn and one-track minded. Brian could so see it.
Chris was going to need that, coming off an injury like his.
“If you’re going to come back, though, you don’t want to wait too long. Once you’re an old man like me, you’re washed up, injury or no injury.” He grinned wryly, recognizing the irony of being not quite yet thirty and over the hill.
“Shit. I’m trying. I’m fucking trying, but no one lets me on the equipment. I need somewhere to train, to take chances.”
“Well, why don’t you come out to Monterey for the summer? I have a teaching position and no other commitments until, possibly, September. That would give us a few months to work together, let you push it, see how you’re feeling.” There it was. He couldn’t lay it out there much plainer. Come and train.
There was a spark in those eyes, a sudden hunger. “I… Is there a place I can stay? Rent a room?”
“Well, Monterey has this private school. Kind of a sister school to the one where I’m currently working. They run a summer program for the girls and the job’s mine if I want it. I could use an assistant coach, someone who knows what they’re doing. Pay should cover room and board, and the equipment would be ours as soon as the girls clear out.” It wasn’t a
big facility, or unlimited time for training, but it was workable.
“That sounds like a damned sweet deal….” Chris drank another cup of coffee, starting to bounce a little.
“That’s because you’ve never worked with teen and pre-teen girls.” Brian winked, but then grinned, finishing up his fries. “So should I tell my friend he’s got a coach and assistant coach?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I could. I can do that. Hell, worse comes to worse, I can run on the beach.”
Brian nodded. “A change of scenery can be a great boost, but you’ll get time on the equipment. It’ll be part of our contract.” He’d make sure of that.
He kept his knees from bouncing by sheer force of will, eager for a definitive yes.
“Okay. Okay, I can do that. I graduate the twelfth.” Brian got a half grin, a bittersweet smile. “I can tell my folks I already got a job.”
“Oh, you’re good at the putting a good spin on things. One of the first lessons, isn’t it?” Brian held out his hand. “Shall we shake on it? On new beginnings?”
Chris stared at him for a long, slow minute, then took his hand, shook it. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or not.”
Brian shook his head. “I’m a big boy, Chris. I make my own decisions. And I’m not here for altruistic reasons. I’m here for me.” He held onto Chris’ hand a moment longer and then let go. “I’m just lucky what I want and what you want are the same thing.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Do…. What all paperwork do you want? Doctor stuff? Therapy? I have it all in a box at my apartment.” Chris started eating again, just chowing down.
“Yeah, that would be good. Would it be possible to take it with me today? I’m on a flight back home tonight, and it would be cheaper for me to take it than for you to ship it. I’d like to get a look at you, too, if I can. See what you can do, where you’re at.” That was likely more important than anything papers could tell him.