For the Win

by Sara Rider

  “I asked you for help getting dressed, not with my personal grooming habits.”

  “Fine,” Jaime said. “I’ll take that as a no. Let’s see if I brought anything befitting the style of hairy-ape chic.”

  Lainey threw her arms up in frustration. “Of course I shaved my armpits! And everything else, for that matter.”

  “Good, try this on,” Jaime said, unfazed. She unzipped one of the navy bags and revealed a slinky black dress with a V-neck cut down to there.

  “I might as well go naked.”

  “Just try it on. The straps might be a bit loose on you, but it’ll look great,” Jaime insisted. With a sigh, Lainey stepped into her bedroom and pulled the dress on. It was made out of a deliciously soft material with black jewels embroidered along the neckline, giving it a subtle touch of sparkle. It was the most luxurious and beautiful item of clothing Lainey had ever put on—with the exception of her first Team USA jersey. The hem hit at mid-thigh, which was shorter than Lainey was comfortable with, but she didn’t mind showing off her legs. She’d worked damn hard for them. The fact that the dress exposed almost the entirety of her chest was the real problem.

  “See, I told you it would look ridiculous on me,” Lainey said as she stepped back into the living room, feeling like an insecure twelve-year-old playing dress up.

  Jaime whistled. “Here’s the thing, Lukas. On me, the dress looks trashy, and that’s just how I like it. But you have no boobs. It’s all sternum, and sternum is classy. You’re wearing it, so stop arguing. Now sit. I need to do your hair before it dries.”

  Lainey parked herself back on the couch and let Jaime work her magic.

  “I’m going to put a simple braid across your forehead and leave the rest down. That way, it won’t be a big mess the next morning if you don’t have time to take it out before falling into bed,” Jaime said with a wink.

  “I’m not going to sleep with Gabe. I just want to make him crazy. Fight fire with fire,” Lainey said, resigning herself to the fact that she’d just put herself entirely in Jaime’s hands. Against her better instincts, she’d told Jaime about the kiss the day before and her theory that Gabe was trying to throw her off her game by seducing her.

  “Has it still not occurred to you that he’s genuinely interested? You’re smart, you’re successful, and you’re gorgeous.”

  Lainey tilted her head to look at Jaime. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Jaime harrumphed and retilted Lainey’s head downward to finish the braid. “Because we’re friends, dumbass. That’s what friends do.”

  “We are?” Lainey hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but she was so shocked that Jaime, one of her fiercest rivals at the World Cup last year, considered them to be friends.

  “Of course. We’re a team, and that means we stick together no matter what. Okay, your hair is done, and it looks awesome, if I do say so myself. I’m going to start on your eye shadow while you tell me all the details about that kiss. Was it good? Did he slip you the tongue?”

  “It wasn’t a real kiss. He was just trying to unsettle me. The only thing he cares about is winning the competition so he can avoid some stupid, fictitious curse. He doesn’t care that our entire franchise is facing the real risk of collapse.” Lainey sighed, sinking back into the memory of Gabe’s hard body and soft lips. “But yes, it was a very good kiss.”

  “It doesn’t matter what his intentions are. If you’re attracted to him, why not just get your rocks off? It would do you some good to loosen up, make you a bit more relatable, you know? Now look up.”

  Lainey glanced at the ceiling and tried not to blink while Jaime brushed mascara onto her lashes. “I don’t need any more distractions. Our team is struggling and I’m failing as captain.”

  “Dude, our team kicks ass, and you’re not failing. A good captain leads by example, and you work harder than anyone else I’ve ever known. It’s inspiring.” Jaime paused and bit her lip, as though something was on the tip of her tongue. Lainey raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. “Sometimes you’re too good. We’ve all busted our asses to get to this level, but you’re in a class by yourself. No one has the discipline you do, so the rest of us figure, why bother trying? If you slipped up once in a while, or acted more like a human than a robot, then maybe we could rise to your level. Right now it’s like you’re untouchable. Dumping that drink on Havelak’s head was the best thing you ever did as captain. Haven’t you noticed how much our team has gelled since then?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Lainey said noncommittally. She wasn’t sure what to think. Her strict discipline and unwavering determination made her what she was. If she deviated now, everything could fall apart. Who knew what would happen if she started to slack off, even just a little bit? Maybe just one sliver of temptation would cause her willpower to crumble away, and she’d end up as a beer-bellied couch potato spending her waking hours watching reality TV reruns. No, she couldn’t risk that. Until the season was over, her eyes were strictly on the prize she’d been working toward her whole life.

  “Of course I’m right. And you’re done. Off you go!” Jaime slapped a clutch into her hand, then scooted her up from the couch and out the door before Lainey had the chance to look at herself in the mirror.

  Jaime followed her to the street, where Lainey’s car was parked. As Lainey was getting into the Civic, Jaime said, “And remember to have fun! F-U—”

  “I know how to spell!” Lainey called back through her open window as she turned on the engine.

  “Fine! We’ll just leave it at F-U, then!” Jaime waved her off and stuck out her tongue.

  LAINEY GLANCED AT HERSELF in the rearview mirror. Just as she expected, she looked like a high-class hooker with that heavy black shadow encircling her eyes. She had to admit, though, the smoky look was kind of pretty and made her normally dull brown eyes stand out. Still, she found herself unable to get out of the car until she grabbed the oversize cardigan she kept in the backseat and threw it over her dress. Feeling a touch more confident, she headed to the glass doors of the museum where the gala was being held.

  Gabe was waiting for her just inside the foyer. His smile lit a tiny spark inside her, and she couldn’t help but give a shy smile back. Previously, she’d believed the man was born to wear a soccer uniform, but she was wrong. He was definitely meant to wear a tuxedo. The dapper suit highlighted the broadness of his shoulders, teasing at the sculpture-perfect muscles hidden beneath the black material. Whereas Lainey used to think of him as cute and goofily charming, in a tux, Gabe was heart-stoppingly sexy.

  “You look unbelievable,” he said, offering his arm. For a brief second, Lainey wondered if he chose an ambiguous compliment on purpose. “Stop doubting yourself; I can read it all over your face. You look unbelievably gorgeous.”

  “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She took his arm and let him escort her to the registration table.

  “Of course, only you could look so good while wearing something that makes it look like you upchucked your morning oatmeal all over yourself,” he said as they waited in line to register.

  “The. Sweater. Stays. On,” she said in her most authoritative voice, pointing her finger at him for extra effect. He chuckled.

  “Coat check, madam?” the registrant offered as they approached the skirted table.

  “No, thank you,” Lainey replied politely.

  The registrant gave her a smile so fake he could’ve passed for a wax figurine. “Please, madam. I insist. The event does have a strict dress code, after all.” He pushed a token at her.

  Begrudgingly, Lainey stripped off the sweater and handed it to the registrant. She flashed a look at Gabe, intending to cut off any snide remarks at the pass, but he was standing in dumb silence with his mouth agape.

  After a few beats, he managed to mouth “wow.” She straightened her shoulders and uncrossed her arms. Wit
hout even saying a word, Gabe managed to make her feel a little bit more confident in her near-naked state.

  “Will you be making your donation to the Hearts and Hands Charity by cash or check tonight?”

  “I’ll be paying for our donation in cash tonight,” Gabe said.

  Lainey cleared her throat and pulled a check from her clutch. “That’s not necessary.” Lainey had too much dignity to let Gabe pay her way. She may not make so much as a fraction of his salary, but she could darn well afford to make a charitable donation. Besides, she really didn’t want to give him the impression this was anything other than a mandated publicity appearance. To his credit, he backed off with an easy smile.

  Lainey grabbed a pen and wrote in $200.

  “Ahem. I’m sure you’re aware the minimum donation is $500,” the registrant added coolly.

  “Of course,” Lainey replied, knowing full well that a mottled flush was spreading across her cheeks and neck. Since the stupid clutch Jaime insisted she bring was so tiny, Lainey had only brought the single check and left the rest of her checkbook at home. With a trembling hand, she added an extra zero.

  Two thousand dollars.

  What the hell had she just done? That was two months’ rent. By the time she signed her name and slid the check over to the registrant, delirium had set in. She’d adjusted her budget to afford the extra expense this month, but there was no way she could donate two thousand dollars without clearing out her entire bank account.

  Damn her pride.

  There was nothing she could do about it now. She used her visualization techniques to “park” her inevitable freak-out about the money for a later time. Right now, her focus needed to be entirely about getting through the gala without incident.

  Gabe escorted her into the reception. Thick crowds of beautiful people were laughing and chatting in every corner of the room. Waiters were flitting about with trays of champagne and canapés. Iridescent chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling and were complemented by dazzling blue-light projections on the walls. Bright orange and yellow blown-glass centerpieces sat on each of the round tables. It was a scene that almost every little girl who fancied herself a princess grew up dreaming about. A scene that could trigger a panic attack in someone as shy and socially awkward as Lainey.

  “You will not let your fear get the best of you. You will walk into this room and smile. You will strike up a conversation with strangers,” Lainey whispered to herself with her eyes clenched shut.

  “Crowds make you nervous, huh?” Gabe asked her in an equally hushed voice.

  Lainey opened one eye and nodded, continuing her rhythmic breathing and chanting. “Envision yourself smiling at people as you walk in the room. You will say witty things to people when they speak to you. You will not hide out in the bathroom for three hours faking a stomach bug.”

  “How about I just promise not to leave your side for the entire evening?” Gabe slipped his hand around her waist, settling his grip possessively along her hip bone. The butterflies dancing in her stomach snapped Lainey out of her trance. “Better than having everyone assume you’re in the midst of a schizophrenic episode.”

  She nodded, grateful for his promise to stick close even if it meant blending personal space bubbles with him all night. Lainey could never seem to read the smile on Gabe’s face. It was a weird mixture of gloating and sincerity that she didn’t think was humanly possible, but there he was beaming it at her. Lainey couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to always project such unwavering confidence in oneself outside of a soccer field.

  “I have to be honest, Lukas. I kind of assumed you were fearless.”

  “I know that I play like a god, but I’m still human.” Gabe laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile, too. “After my injury, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to head a ball again. I was sure my career was over.”

  “I can’t imagine how you overcame that.”

  “I cried every time I touched a soccer ball for the first month of my training. But I kept pushing myself, and eventually I got over it.”

  “Wow,” he said in the saddest voice, clenching tightly at her waist. “That must’ve been so difficult.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, it helps that Coach Labreilla is a son of a bitch who wouldn’t tolerate any girly tears.” She hadn’t meant to confess quite so much to him. Something about the location, the clothes, and the chemistry between them made her feel that the moment was more intimate than it was.

  A server carrying a tray of champagne flutes approached them once they descended the few stairs to the ballroom. Lainey’s first instinct was to pass, but then she remembered the two thousand dollars. “Screw it,” she muttered, and picked up a glass by the long stem. She had to get through this evening one way or another.

  The liquid was crisp, bubbly, and delicious as it slid down her throat. She’d never tasted champagne before, but she instantly understood what all the fuss was about.

  “Another?” the server offered. Lainey hadn’t even realized she’d finished the first glass.

  She wasn’t an impulsive woman. Every bite of food she consumed was planned out weeks in advance. But Lainey also wasn’t a woman who paraded around in fancy dresses, threw away money like it was confetti, and confessed her tales of woe to veritable strangers. Tonight, one thing was certain: she was a woman who really enjoyed the bubbly goodness of champagne.

  “I WOULDN’T HAVE PEGGED you for a champagne drinker,” Gabe said. The sensual and delighted expression on her face as she savored the golden liquid was turning him on like nothing ever had before. He liked seeing this side of her. It was hard to believe that this effusive woman was the same one who talked about her devastating injury and recovery with such matter-of-fact coldness.

  As much as he liked to support worthy charities, he’d been growing weary of attending these types of high-society events. This was the first time he’d attended one with Lainey, though, and the dress she was wearing could make the Pope reconsider his celibacy vows.

  “What? I’m not fancy enough for champagne?” Lainey asked teasingly, tipping the glass against her sly smile once again. “Opposites attract. It was love at first sight.”

  “I can tell. You’re making an orgasm face every time you take a sip. Isn’t it traditional to drink champagne after winning the World Cup?”

  She gave him a dirty look and polished off the rest of the glass. He winced, realizing he’d just put his foot in his mouth. “Contrary to popular belief, Norwegian hospitals do not administer alcoholic beverages to unconscious patients through IV—even patients who’ve just won the World Cup. So what do we do now, Mr. Smooth?”

  He raised his eyebrows at the “Mr. Smooth” comment but let it go. “We find some interesting people to talk to.”

  A look of terror passed over her face. “You’re interesting. Can’t I just talk to you all night?”

  Gabe could think of a lot of things she could do to him all night, but instead of saying that, he pulled her tighter against his side. “The point of schmoozing is to interact with people who might prove to hold some mutual benefit.”

  “We can be mutually beneficial,” Lainey insisted. Gabe dissolved into laughter. “Oh my gosh. I did not mean that the way it sounds.”

  “If you don’t want to talk with people, how do you propose we spend the rest of the evening?”

  “Um . . . I spy with my little eye something that is green and—”

  “You want to play I spy?” Gabe asked incredulously. Here she was looking drop-dead gorgeous in a killer dress amid the movers and shakers of Seattle, and Lainey wanted to hide out with him in a dark corner to play children’s games. It blew his mind that the two of them could have such similar career paths yet completely opposite temperaments.

  She smacked him lightly on the chest. “You didn’t let me finish. I spy with my little eye something that is gr
een and wrapped in bacon. There’s a waiter over there with asparagus wrapped in bacon. Bacon! I want some.”

  “Are you drunk after two glasses of champagne?” Gabe asked, finally making sense of her curious, yet entertaining behavior.

  “I don’t know,” she responded with a pout. “I’ve never been drunk. Is that why my brain feels tingly?”

  “Hmm, are you willing to tell me what you have planned for the fund-raiser?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Then you’re probably just tipsy.”

  “Good, back to the subject. Did you know I haven’t had bacon since I was nine?”

  “Seriously?” Every word out of her mouth was increasingly hilarious.

  “It’s number sixteen on my list,” she said whimsically.

  “That’s absolutely tragic. Let’s get you that bacon while you explain what you mean by that list.”

  For the next twenty minutes, they stalked waiters across the large room, sampling their offerings and bickering playfully over which was the tastiest. It was the most fun Gabe had had while wearing a stuffy tuxedo. If she was this excited over tuna carpaccio and prosciutto-wrapped cantaloupe, he could only imagine how she’d react to the chocolate fountain.

  Just as they were about to sample the shrimp popsicles, Gabe felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Mean Jim Green in the same oversize brown suit he wore to every press conference and social function and wearing a facial expression that said he was about to make someone cry.

  “Interesting seeing two rivals cozying up together. Does this mean the Great Battle of the Sexes is a sham?” He pulled a handheld notebook from his inner pocket.

  Lainey snorted. “I fully intend on kicking Gabe’s ass in the next three challenges.”

  “It’s a friendly competition in the name of charity. We’re not interested in creating mock scandals for you to sell your newspaper,” Gabe added coolly, putting extra emphasis on the word “friendly.”