Hadn’t I just been pining over how lonely the week was going to be? How lonely my life had been? He was dangling himself in front of me, and the hurt and anger from yesterday faded away like it hadn’t happened.
He was stroking my cheek with his thumb, his fingers curled around my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the heat of his touch.
“It’s only for a week. Then I have to go home, and you have to go back to work, and that’ll be it.”
His eyes narrowed, and his expression tightened as if he was thinking, “We’ll see about that.”
“I have surgery, Lincoln. And recovery.” And then piecing a life out of what was left while waiting until the magical five-year mark. All the studies cited five-year statistics, and the timeline was stuck in my head. “A week is all I have.”
“Then a week is what I’ll take.”
Chapter 5
We were doing this. I hung out in the room, sprawled across the bed as Lincoln ran back to the other hotel to checkout and cancel the rest of his meetings.
A whole week with Lincoln. How did being so enraged I wanted to dump my milkshakarita all over his smug face turn into “Hey, let’s spend the week together and share a room.”
But I couldn’t deny I was excited to just…hang out. To keep talking with him and find out more about what made Lincoln Keating tick. Or to learn how much we had in common. I was giddier than any first date I’ve ever been on.
As the minutes ticked by, I started to think I’d imagined it all. The room was quiet, and I had no idea what I would do first. This was what it would’ve been like on my own. No different than the rest of my life.
The door opened, and Lincoln walked through, a black duffel in one hand and a rolling suitcase in the other. Flutters ran through my belly and sent a shiver down the rest of my body. No, I hadn’t imagined this. Nor had I imagined how attractive he was. He filled the room, sucking all the air out until all I had to breathe in was him.
“Did you get some rest?” he asked, arranging his stuff next to mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off our bags sitting together on the floor. We were together.
If you want more, I’ll give you more.
Part of me innocently wondered what he meant. The other part knew exactly what more entailed and how much of it I wanted.
He turned and caught me watching him. “Just like old times.”
I flushed. How was I going to sleep in the same bed with him—sex or not—if I couldn’t quit blushing? “What do you mean?”
Heat infused his eyes. “I know you were glaring at me at the track whenever we crossed paths. But I thought it was probably because you hated me. I couldn’t tell.”
Oh my god, I had stared at him. Unabashedly—at the time, because I thought no one would notice. “I did not.”
“You did.”
“Everyone else was doing it.” Weak argument.
“I didn’t care about everyone else.”
My heart thudded, flushing my body until I was achy. My breasts that I’d thought about way too much lately were heavy and tender. The force of his kiss blazed through my mind, only swamping me with need.
“Hungry?”
More like desperate for a distraction. “You seem to be trying to feed me a lot.”
“It got me talking to you in the first place. It’s a short walk downtown, and we can sightsee.”
“Lead the way.”
He was more relaxed then I’d ever seen him. There was one race in Oregon. He’d been chewing gum, and I thought his teeth would crack from the force and the speed of his jaw. His hands had been planted on his hips as he paced a short section of track.
I’d watched him the entire time, just like he said, and missed a question from Coach Simmons. He chided me for ogling Coach Keating, but I argued. “I’m trying to get a read on how his athlete’s going to do.” Another weak argument.
Tense was his standard. I could believe he’d surpassed the point where he needed a vacation. And maybe forcing a bad call because of pressure from Victa was the tipping point. He just had to admit it to himself. It wasn’t my job.
Until then, we were going on vacation.
His easy stride next to me was also unlike him. We stopped at the car for sunglasses and continued toward historic downtown.
I pointed out brick buildings, and he tugged me into the first souvenir shop we came to.
He touched his finger to a snow globe, his brows drawn together. “I’ve never brought anything home from my travels. All those races and not one snow globe or keychain or T-shirt.”
“Then allow me.” I picked up the globe. When I shook it, snow swirled around Pike’s Peak. “Your first souvenir.”
“Thanks.” His bemused expression mixed with delight.
“I’ll haul it around for you until we get back.” I paid and dropped it into my tote.
Back out on the sidewalk, I didn’t know which way to turn. It was one thing to plan to go on vacation, then another to be on vacation.
Lincoln stopped next to me. “Something wrong?”
“It just occurred to me that I planned a week of fun and relaxation, but not actually what to do or where anything is.”
“Isn’t that the draw of vacations? You don’t need to know the details.” He slid his sunglasses back on and looked around. “We walk until we find somewhere that looks good to eat.”
My stomach picked that moment to rumble. “Lead the way.”
He grabbed my hand and twined his fingers through mine, giving them a little squeeze and tugging me gently along with him.
We were holding hands. Like a couple. His hand was strong, and his grip firm. He walked with purpose, but didn’t tow me.
“Aren’t you feeling a bit lost without a plan?” I was.
“This is the first time I haven’t had a clock dictating where I’ll be and for how long. I think I could get used to a whole week of it. But if it’ll make you feel better, we can come up with an outline for the week while we eat.”
“Is it bad that it would make me feel better?”
His laugh made me smile. “It’s okay to ease into it.”
“Where have you gone before? Outside of Colorado. Outside of the US.” He’d said it’d been a long time, but in his day, he was at the top of the game. He’d been one of Victa’s biggest athletes. Racing all over the world.
“I’ve gone on some amazing trips, but nowhere that wasn’t for work.”
“Really?” Would that have been me if I stayed pro? Only traveling if it was for a race, fitting in a quick trip when I had traveled all the way to a different country? I would’ve gotten to see stuff, but training and performance and recovery would’ve been paramount.
He shrugged. “I’ve been so focused on work that it wasn’t a big deal.” I heard the until now he didn’t say. He stopped in front of a tavern-style restaurant with a patio taking up part of the sidewalk. “How about this place?”
“Looks good.” It smelled good too.
We went inside and got seated out on the deck. He scooted his chair next to mine and sat close, holding the same menu for both of us. I rested my hand on his hard thigh as we looked it over.
When we decided, he set the menu down and draped his arm across the back of my chair, making it easier to tuck myself into his side. It was torture. He’d casually stroke my arm with his thumb, sending shivers cascading through my body. I was on the brink of skipping supper and dragging him back to the hotel room. But he seemed content to take it slow, or at least at my pace, which was usually slow.
Except with him. We’d gone from enemies to friends to sleepovers in the span of twenty-four hours. Could this be considered our first date? If it was, I had a lot of catching up to do.
“Is it sad that this is the most romantic date I’ve ever had?” In my old life—a mere week ago—I never would’ve said this to a guy I went out to dinner with. It wasn’t just my illness that made me speak more freely around Lincoln. I think what happened over the race decision vaporized
any filter I had regarding him. And for some reason, I knew he’d understand my unease about the lack of a plan for the week and my dating confessions.
“I wouldn’t be far behind.” Yep, he got it. But he didn’t offer more, so I turned my attention to the menu.
The server arrived. I ordered a glass of water and a margarita with my chicken sandwich and waffle fries. He ordered the same chicken sandwich, but with a side salad instead of fries. I hope he didn’t think I was going to share.
This was unusual for me. I couldn’t let the dating thing go, thanks to my new lack of filter. “I doubt that you’d be on my level of lackluster dating,” I said. “A good-looking guy like you, with all that”—I waved my free hand toward him—“alpha male vibe.”
“Whatever ‘alpha male vibe’ is didn’t mean that it was easy to find someone to move beyond dating with.”
They didn’t do long term, or he didn’t? “I find that hard to believe. I mean, you’re what thirty-six?”
The corners of his jaws flexed. He wasn’t used to talking about this part of his life. “There was a universal complaint in all my previous relationships. I was accused of being married to my work. A lack of romance was often cited as a reason for why things didn’t work out.”
I’d hit a nerve, but it was one I wanted to explore further. “If they’re not part of the life, it’s hard to understand.”
His surprised gaze slid back to me. “I don’t often get anyone that takes my side when I mention my romantic woes.”
I took the paper ring from around the napkin and started folding it into an airplane. “Yeah, but are you talking to other coaches or former professional athletes, or people who have normal jobs?”
“You mean like my sister, the accountant? That’s pretty much why I don’t really talk about it at all anymore.”
“Do you talk to your dates about what the life is like?”
“I missed the announcement that we’re playing twenty questions.”
I’d hit another nerve. They seemed to be an easy target on Lincoln Keating. “Do you usually date women who only like to talk about themselves?”
The faint blush tinged his cheeks. Oh my goodness. I’ve managed to embarrass the mighty Coach Keating. I doubted he hit on women; they raced to him. And he certainly wasn’t hitting on me. “I can’t believe I made you blush.”
He scowled and took a drink of his ice water, like that would help cool them off and make the blush go away. “I don’t get embarrassed.”
I leaned forward and let the wicked grin spread across my lips. “Then admit that you were just dating so you could get laid.”
He furtively glanced around, afraid someone had overheard. As much as I liked teasing him, I didn’t want strangers invited into this conversation, even if it was in the capacity of eavesdropping. As close as we were sitting, I didn’t have to speak loudly.
I reclined back, giving him a break from my teasing. “It’s okay. I don’t judge.” He gave me a doubtful look. “Seriously. It’s okay to not want to settle down. I think the whole concept gets a bad reputation from people who lied about their true intentions and lead others on.”
His scrutiny was back on me, the golden flecks in his dark eyes glittering. When he looked at me, I no longer felt like he was just sizing up the competition. He was trying to figure me out in a different way. “What about you? You never had a serious relationship.”
It took a moment before I realized that he wasn’t asking a question. He knew I’d never had a serious boyfriend. I lifted a brow.
His shrugged. “I paid attention.”
This was Coach Keating. He noticed everything about the competition. If I’d had a steady boyfriend, he’d assume I was a little distracted and easier to beat. But then there was his inappropriate fascination. “If I was serious and settling down, it might interfere with my training. I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
“That was only part of it.”
“Why would you care about the other part if it didn’t affect my race?” I hung on his answer.
He feathered his fingers under my chin. “Just because I was married to my job didn’t mean that I didn’t wish for other things.”
My lips parted with my inhale, but it was still hard to believe that he meant me. “You could’ve found those other things if you wanted them.”
He held my gaze, those golden flecks sparking to life. “Remember the first time we crossed paths?”
Of course, I remembered. But him? I had assumed that, to him, I was just another runner drone, that we all looked the same to him except for what sponsor was adhered to our ass. The neediness from the hotel room was returning. “It was in Oregon, three years ago. At the Olympic trials.”
I’d done well in the trials, and I’d enjoyed the experience, but I hadn’t made the team. Maybe I would’ve in the next couple of years, but it was an idea I’d given up along with my career.
“You were a talented runner—are a talented runner. But the excitement on your face was intoxicating. I’d seen it a million times before, but when I looked at you, it was just… Different.”
I didn’t know what to say. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me, and Lincoln seemed to be ticking that box the whole day. “You were off-limits. We all knew it.”
“I can’t afford to have it any other way. But that day made me wonder…” He laid his lips against my temple, and when I tipped my face up, he captured my lips with his for a lingering kiss that was more sweet than sizzling. That made it more significant than the others.
He’d suppressed feelings about me for years? While he’d been nothing but an unrealistic crush that’d never happen, I was a symbol for what his job had cost him. Was that why he’d pushed the call so hard yesterday?
It was weird to find myself as the object of someone’s unrequited desire, and that it was Lincoln’s made it more unbelievable. How odd that it worked out that I got my diagnosis, ran my race, planned a vacation, and events fell into place that made Lincoln decide to be with me. That didn’t seem fair.
Why would I start to wonder what if as I went home to face my uncertain future? But if life were fair, I would’ve gotten a clean bill of health and the national title. Today was the day that made me wonder if things were different…
Our food arrived, and I forced a smile. “Well, now you know.”
Chapter 6
Blinking my eyes open, I frowned at the cloth drapes. I was more comfortable than I’d ever been in a hotel bed, but I hadn’t expected the ones at this place to be the coziest of all. The real reason might be due to the solid body pressed against my back. Like my own personal space heater. A six-foot space heater wearing nothing but black athletic shorts.
How did I know they were black?
Lincoln’s breathing was steady. My body wasn’t glowing in some state of postcoital bliss. We didn’t have sex.
That’s right, we didn’t even kiss again.
Post-race exhaustion and a crappy previous night’s sleep had caught up with me. After downing the sandwich and most of the fries, except for the ones Lincoln kept stealing, I had crashed as soon as we entered the motel room.
Dammit. I’d missed a night of action between the sheets with him. But we were in the same bed. I faintly recalled him asking if it was okay as I drifted off.
Sitting up, I stretched my arms to the ceiling. I still marveled over how good I felt, despite how sick I was.
I heard a long inhale behind me. “Good morning.”
I lowered my arms and glanced over my shoulder. My heart skipped once, twice, three times. How could I sleep next to that all night and not get laid?
His chest was bare and bronzed. Faint tan lines cut through his biceps. The blankets had been pushed off him, and he rolled to his back. Tight abs tapered to his waist where the top of his shorts rolled down.
His thighs though. I was used to being surrounded by toned legs. But Lincoln had bulked out since his pro-runn
er days, and the look suited him. Power practically vibrated from his body.
There was no way I looked as good waking up as him. My hair was probably going in all different directions, and since I was a side sleeper, there were likely pillow lines on my cheek. I better go brush my teeth at the very least.
“Dibs on the bathroom.” I got out of bed without looking at him.
I had just shoved the toothpaste-loaded toothbrush into my mouth when he sauntered in. He met my gaze in the mirror and reached into his overnight bag without breaking eye contact. His hot look stayed on me as he squirted a dab of toothpaste onto his brush and stuck it into his mouth. We stood next to each other as we brushed our teeth. Me in my pink camisole top and plain black underwear, him in his black athletic shorts.
The way he was looking at me. A flush spread through my body, and my nipples tightened until I nearly choked on my toothpaste.
I was the first to look away, but only to rinse out my mouth and my toothbrush—and keep my nipples from being on full display. When I was done, he did the same.
Since I liked not having a filter around him, and my mouth tasted minty fresh, I said, “I feel bad that we wasted the night and didn’t have sex.”
For as much bravado as I gave myself, I couldn’t meet his eyes for real. I had to look at him through the mirror.
“We can make up for that today.” He stepped behind me.
My heart rate spiked. What was he going to do?
I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. He spread his hands across my back and skimmed them around my sides to my front until he stood with his hands splayed across my belly. They moved as my chest went up and down. I was close to panting.
After a pause, he brushed his hands down and hooked his palms under the hem of my top. In slow motion, he rolled the bottom up until my breasts were bared. My nipples were harder than they’d ever been, almost painfully jutting forward. A hot tingling sensation spread from my belly to between my thighs. My lips parted as I watched him circle my nipples with his thumbs. The entire time, he watched my reaction.
Finish Line: A Playing Hard Novella Page 4