Brother's Best Friend Unwrapped

by Aria Ford

“I’ll train you,” I said without thinking. Could I handle it? I was beyond attracted to her and seeing her parade around in the typical one-piece bathing suit of a professional swimmer would probably leave me with a constant erection, but I wanted to do this for her. I could handle it, and she deserved a shot at making it to the top.

  She smirked. “Yeah right.”

  “I could. You know I could. I’m the best, after all. I’ll bust your ass into shape and make sure you get your spot on the team.”

  She looked serious for a second before she waved a hand in the air, essentially waving away my offer. I knew she could afford my rates. Well, her family could. They were very wealthy, and because of them, I had found a way to make myself quite comfortable as well.

  “Uh-oh,” she muttered, staring over my shoulder.

  I turned to see Brian and another guy I didn’t recognize. Their noses were almost touching. I waited to see if it was going to erupt into a fight or if they would posture a bit before cooling their jets. The two men separated, and Brian made his way toward us.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “That dude is a douche. I bumped into him, and he wanted to fight me,” he said with disgust.

  “Uh, Brian, he’s coming this way,” Lindsey interrupted.

  I turned, and sure enough, big meathead followed by a couple of his buddies was headed to our table. Fucking awesome.

  One of the guys stood directly behind me, effectively locking me in my seat at the table. His chest was pressing into my back. The guy Brian had squared off with was standing in front of him. Brian stood and got back in his face. Mr. Tough Guy’s buddy was standing behind Brian.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I said, throwing an elbow back, landing it in the guy’s solar plexus.

  He didn’t move.

  I shoved back and spun around as I jumped off the barstool. I wasn’t a pussy, and no dumbass meathead was going to push me around.

  “Guys, back off,” Lindsey said in a voice full of warning.

  Before I knew what was coming, Tough Guy took a swing and hit Brian in the jaw. Brian swung into action and pushed the guy before throwing a punch and landing it in the center of the dude’s face. Blood erupted from what was probably a broken nose. Before I got the chance to do anything, the bouncers were on our table, surrounding Brian and the bleeding tough guy, dragging them both out of the bar.

  I looked at Lindsey. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but I think we better get out of here.”

  When I looked around, I could see Tough Guy’s buddies were hanging out and looking mad as hell. They were eyeballing me. Sure, I was always up for a good fight, but Brian would kick my ass if I got kicked out and left Lindsey in here alone.

  “Finish your drink. They aren’t going to run us out of here.”

  She picked up her glass and swallowed the contents in a long guzzle. That was going to go straight to her head and give her a nice buzz.

  “Not exactly what I meant, but it works.”

  I picked up my beer and took a long drink before putting the bottle down.

  “We better make sure Brian isn’t getting jumped out there by himself,” I said, realizing the bouncers wouldn’t do anything once the men were outside.

  “I need to find Brittany,” Lindsey said, jumping off the stool.

  The tiny, tight pink skirt she was wearing had ridden up her thighs, revealing those perfectly shaped, muscular legs. I watched as she tugged it down before tugging down the fitted black shirt she was wearing. It, too, had ridden up, and her flat tummy was exposed just a hint. More tanned flesh. She looked up, her eyes met mine, and I knew she could see the desire. I couldn’t hide it.

  “Stop,” she said, shooting me down.

  “You’re hot, and you know it,” I told her with a grin.

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s find her.”

  “Text her and tell her to get her ass outside. I don’t want to try and find her in this mess.”

  She nodded, and we made our way to the door. I placed my hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the crowd.

  Once outside, we looked around and found Brian leaning up against the wall of the bar. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled.

  “How’s your face?” I asked.

  “Guy barely touched me, but we need to get out of here before his buddies come out and want to start more shit,” he grumbled.

  Just then an obviously drunk Brittany walked out the door with a guy pressed behind her, his arms around her waist and his head buried in her neck. She was giggling and clearly enjoying the attention.

  “We need to go, Brit,” Lindsey said.

  “Go ahead, I’m going to hang out with—” she looked up at the guy draped on her back, “What’s your name again?”

  “Dustin,” he mumbled, his mouth still on her neck.

  “Dustin. Dustin and I are going across the street to get a drink,” she laughed.

  “Whatever,” Lindsey said. “Be careful. Text me later. Dustin?”

  The guy removed his face from Brittany’s neck, looked at Lindsey and gave her a lecherous grin that nearly made me hit him, “Huh?” he asked.

  “Don’t do anything that makes me sick,” she threatened, “or I, because I can, and I will kick your ass. Got it?”

  Dustin grinned, his eyes slightly glazed from copious amounts of alcohol. “We’re just having fun. I promise I’m a nice guy.”

  “Whatever.” She turned to me and then looked at Brian. “Let’s go.”

  We all watched Brittany stumble across the street to the other bar.

  “You sure she’s going to be okay?” I asked Lindsey, feeling like I should somehow be the hero that saved the girl but not really caring all that much to step in tonight.

  “She’s fine. It’s a typical Saturday night for Brittany, trust me.”

  Chapter 2

  Lindsey

  “Blah, blah, blah.”

  That’s all I could hear. My psychology professor was droning on about something, but my brain couldn’t focus. All I could think about was swimming or the lack thereof. I hadn’t been in the pool in three days. Sure, that wasn’t a big deal for some, but for me, it was career ending. I had to do something quick or my hopes of making the team and winning an Olympic gold medal were going to evaporate.

  Why my trainer up and left me hanging was anybody’s guess, but I wanted to kick him in the kneecaps or maybe somewhere else a bit more painful. I couldn’t do this. Sitting in a classroom was not fixing my situation. I needed a trainer—now. I checked my watch, fifteen minutes before class would be over. I got the gist of it.

  I walked out, doing my best to be as sneaky as possible, but knowing I was completely failing. Nothing I could do about it. The professor can get mad, but I had bigger problems.

  Tanner. His name kept popping into my head. Had he been serious when he offered to train me? I guess there’s only one way I’d ever know for sure.

  I quickly slid my thumb over my contacts list and pressed his name with a picture of him on the side. God, he was hot. He looked like a surfer. Had the dirty-blond hair, the tanned skin, and the muscular body of a man who was constantly working out in the water and in the gym. I’ve always had a crush on him. What girl doesn’t? At the bar, I noticed he was checking me out, even flirting a little. While we’ve joked around in the past, he has always been like a brother to me, and I’ve never even thought about what it would be like to date him—or sleep with him.

  “Hey, sexy,” he answered on the second ring.

  That hot little shiver of desire washed over me the second I heard his voice, “Hey yourself.”

  “You’re calling me in the middle of the day. Aren’t you supposed to be in school or something?”

  “Yes, I am, kind of. Whatever. Were you serious the other night?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  “About?”

  “Training me.”

  “Hell, yeah I was. I would l
ove to get my hands on that hot little body and mold you into the Olympian I know you are,” he said.

  His words were meant as a joke. I think. But my mind went somewhere else. A vision of him running his hands over my naked body popped into my head, completely distracting me from what I was supposed to be doing.

  “Good, thank you. I’ll have my dad work out all the payment and stuff. I have practice tonight at four, and then, usually, I would train from six to nine. Does that work for you?”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “Yep, that works. Are we training at the school?”

  I thought about it briefly. “High school down the road from the college,” I blurted, giving him the address. “We can work out the details later.”

  “See you tonight, beautiful.”

  “Bye,” I said.

  I relished the feeling that came over me. He was always using various terms of endearment when he talked to me. It was something he had always done, but now the words felt like there was a little more meaning behind them, like he really thought I was beautiful and sexy.

  With a plan in place, I managed to get through my next two classes without completely spacing out. Instead of worrying about what I was going to do, I was focused on seeing Tanner. I couldn’t wait!

  “Come on, Lindsey,” my swim team coach hollered.

  I bit back the foul language I wanted to spew at him. The guy was not in the same league as Tanner or my previous trainer. He was a college swim team coach—not an Olympic coach.

  I used my arms to pull myself up and out of the pool, standing there on the cement, water dripping off my legs, I put my hands on my hip, “I’m doing the best I can,” I seethed.

  “No, you’re not,” Coach Dewey shouted. “You are better than this. You’re supposed to be heading off to the Olympics. You aren’t going anywhere if you don’t get your head in it. Now get your ass in there and do it again.”

  I growled, “What was my time?”

  He narrowed his gaze at me. “twenty-nine point two.”

  Ouch. That was definitely not good.

  “I’ll do better,” I said, stretching my arms and moving my neck around.

  I was working on my fifty-meter freestyle run. If I hoped to have a chance at a medal, I had to get down to the twenty-four second range. Five seconds is a lot to shave off. I hoped Tanner could whip my ass into shape.

  The hour-long practice was nothing compared to what was coming. I trained six days a week, one hour with the San Diego State team and then three hours with my trainer. We had been granted access to use the local high school’s pool, but I didn’t know if that was still possible since it had been arranged with my previous trainer.

  Once practice was over, I raced home. My parents spoiled me, there was no doubt in my mind. They paid for my apartment, demanding I focus on my education and swimming. When I lived at home, my dad had put in a huge pool so I could train without leaving. It also allowed my parents to keep an eye on the trainer. There had been too many horror stories of trainers abusing the young women in their charge.

  “Hi,” Tanner said, meeting me in the parking lot of the high school.

  “You’re early,” I said, climbing out of my little black Mazda Miata.

  “And you’re late. Rule number one, if you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late,” he said in a serious tone.

  I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I will fire you. Practice went long. We’re gearing up for our meet at home against the Nevada Relays. Then the following week we go up against USC. It’s going to be a tough couple of weeks.”

  He nodded. “You’ll do fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  He greeted me by putting his hands on my waist and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’ll let you get away with it this time, but next time, you won’t get off so easy.”

  “Hmm, what will my punishment be?” I said it in a voice dripping with sexual connotation, and I knew the instant it had the desired effect.

  His hands dropped from my waist, and he stepped back. “Get changed. I’ll be at the pool waiting.”

  I laughed and quickly went inside to put on my suit.

  When I got out to the pool, he was in trainer mode. His shirt was off. It made my heart leap and my stomach do flip flops. When had he become so fucking manly? He wasn’t that gangly teenager I remembered or the kind of cute, older college guy. He was a man in every way. I couldn’t help but stare at the defined pectoral muscles that flowed into his washboard stomach. His arms weren’t overly muscular but perfectly defined. The tattoo wrapping around his bicep practically had my mouth watering as I thought about holding that exact area while he drove into me.

  “Uh, Linds?”

  I looked up at him, and he was staring back at me with those green eyes that said he knew exactly where my mind had been going.

  “Sorry,” I squeaked.

  “Please, feel free to worship my body, but I get to do the same without you slapping me or your brother kicking my ass.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t worshiping your body. Get over yourself.” I said it with as much disdain as I could interject into my words. I doubt it worked, but I walked closer to him. “Train me.”

  He eyed me up and down in my plain one-piece blue swimsuit.

  “I plan to. Get in and let’s see what I’m working with here.”

  I instantly felt apprehensive. Today was an off day. If I couldn’t pull better times than I had at swim practice, he would probably laugh at me for even trying to make it on the Olympic team.

  He sensed my hesitation. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, sorry. Remember, I need a trainer because I need to improve, not because I’m a gold medalist—yet.”

  He looked at me, cocked his head to the side and said, “I only train the best, Lindsey. I want to train you because I know you’re the best.”

  The way he said it inspired me. His words gave me the confidence I needed to try. I wanted to be the best to make him proud of me.

  Chapter 3

  Tanner

  “Lengthen your strokes. You’re not extending your arms like I told you to,” I yelled across the pool.

  My client wanted his kid to be the next Michael Phelps. It wasn’t going to happen, but the dude was paying me double my normal fee to try. The extra income meant I could send more to my mom. Maybe I’d buy her a new Beamer. The kid wasn’t terrible, but he just wasn’t as good as Lindsey.

  Dammit. Again. I couldn’t get Lindsey off the brain. Yesterday had made me a little crazy, watching her swim across the pool, turn and move through the water back to where I stood on the side. Her lean body stretched with every stroke. She wasn’t as tall as most professional female swimmers, but she was just as fast—maybe faster. I knew I could take her all the way to the Olympics. Her body was perfect.

  Stop! She was Brian’s sister and a client. I don’t know what had changed, but every time I thought about her or looked at her, my mind jumped to me buried deep inside her. I wanted her more than I have ever wanted another woman. It was harder than hell to concentrate on anything else. Even now I could feel my dick hardening at the thought of running a hand over her tight ass, squeezing and pulling her into me.

  My young client jumped out of the pool at the opposite end. “What are you doing?” I shouted, my frustration level growing.

  He didn’t listen quite like Lindsey did. I could admit I was kind of an ass when I trained. I pushed people harder than they liked, but the results were always what they wanted. Some people pushed back. Then there were those, like Lindsey, who took everything I said and used it to get better. This kid was struggling. He refused to take my advice and continued to do what he thought was best. The kid was a pain in the ass.

  “If you can’t listen to what I say, you aren’t going to get better,” I told the kid stalking toward me, leaving wet footprints on the perfectly smooth cement in his wake.

  “I don’t care. My dad will hire a different train
er. Maybe I can find a hot chick to take over. You’re a dick,” he said, glaring at me as he grabbed his towel.

  We were at his mansion, training in his Olympic-sized pool his father had put in on the grounds. The brat was spoiled. The pool was, of course, indoors and outfitted with every amenity, including a well-stocked bar. I needed a drink.

  “Hire another trainer. I don’t care. Maybe you’re not good enough for me. I’m the best. My clients are the best. You won’t be the best if you go elsewhere, but that’s not my problem.”

  “Dude, you’re such an asshole.”

  I chuckled. “I am. You’re right.”

  I was, and I really didn’t care. I had worked hard to get to this point. People thought I was arrogant—I was. There was no shame in striving to be the best at what you did. It was something Lindsey and Brian’s dad had told me more than once. James Scott was a self-made millionaire and knew all about working hard to achieve your dreams. I’d heeded his advice, and here I was, well on my way to making my first million.

  “We’re done for the day,” I told him, grabbing my keys off the small table. “If you’re dad wants to fire me, please have him leave me a message. I’m not up for wasting my time or his money.”

  With that, I walked out of the covered pool area and headed down the long circular drive. I jumped in my big F-350 and drove toward the gate at the end of a long driveway. Once there, I waited for the guy in the little guardhouse to open the gate.

  My phone rang, and I checked the screen to see it was Brian. “What’s up, man? You still around?”

  “Yeah, I decided to stay for a couple more days. Is that cool?”

  “Of course. I’m happy to have you around. Is everything okay?”

  “I just want a break. Want to grab lunch?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’ll be back in the city in about fifteen minutes. That work?”

  “I’ll meet you at the pub.”

  “Okay, see you in a few,” I said, ending the call.

  The pub was one of our favorite haunts. Good food and even better beer and it was low-key. Brian usually visited every weekend, but he hadn’t been around for a month. I missed the guy I considered a brother. It would be nice to catch up. Hanging out at the bar with him over the weekend was not the same as actually sitting down and having a conversation we could both hear.