In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) (25 page)

Tori’s phone rang.
“Oh, that’s Paulo calling. Have I told you what he can do with
just his pinky finger?”

“I’m heading out.”
I started for the door, wondering why it had taken me so long to do
what I’d just done. I already knew I’d made the right call.

“Wait, don’t go!”
she called after me, but she also clicked over to accept the call. “I
am so happy to hear from you,” she said flirtatiously into the
phone.

Fine. I’d leave
things to Tori to sort out. I’d said my piece. I didn’t know if
she believed me or not, but she would in time because I meant what I
said. I wasn’t writing a word about Chase Carter, and as far as I
was concerned, I was no longer a part of Scoop’d.

I walked out into the
late afternoon heat, in the throng of the Olympic Village. I’d
expected a lot of things from the conversation, namely Tori’s
anger, disbelief and accusations. That had all happened. But what I
hadn’t expected, and I now happily realized, was how good I’d
feel. Walking along back toward the rail system which would take me
to the swim pavilion, I realized I hadn’t felt such a clear
conscience and a light heart in a long, long while.

§

Liam was awesome. That
evening, while Chase met with his coaches, before I saw him for some
actual physical therapy, Liam and I grabbed some horrible pizza
together. He was incredibly easy to talk to, wanting to hear all
about growing up in Florida and how I’d chosen to get into physical
therapy. Chase had clearly been bragging about me in a ridiculous
way.

“I hear you’re a
hardcore runner.”

“No, that’s just
Chase being nice.”

“Chase doesn’t
throw around compliments,” he assured me. “When he says
something, he means it.”

“You’re right.” I
smiled at the realization. You could honestly trust what Chase had to
say.

“You really like
him.” Liam leaned back in his seat, surveying me with a smile.
“That’s good. Because he really likes you.” That made me smile
more, and blush so I took a sip of my drink. Sometimes I felt like I
hadn’t left high school.

“He told me he talked
to you about the accident,” Liam surprised me by adding.

I nodded. I knew Chase
wasn’t supposed to have spoken to me about it, so I’d assumed
he’d keep it between us. But it was better for him to have it out
in the open. I couldn’t believe how much he’d beaten himself up
over the years, feeling responsible for what had gone wrong.

“Funny how something
can eat at you when you can’t talk about it.” He took the words
right out of my mouth. I watched him sip his own drink, wondering if
he was talking about himself, too. But he was the hero of the bunch.
He must sleep well at night.

It was a pretty
personal subject to explore, so I didn’t ask. I wasn’t a blogger
after the scoop anymore. I could simply let him talk, listening as he
shared what he wanted.

“I guess that’s why
the four of us are still so tight,” he finally added.

“You are?” I asked,
pleased at the thought. At least that was a silver lining, lifelong
friendships forged out of trauma.

He nodded. “I’m the
annoying one. I keep in touch with the three of them. They’re like
brothers to me. Even if they don’t want to be.” He gave me a
disarming smile. I could see why Chase called him a real lady-killer.
Those muscles, that Irish twinkle in his eyes and dimple, coupled
with the whole heroic firefighter thing? Yeah, that worked. But I
clearly had it bad for Chase, since my first thought was, “He’d
be great for Tori!”

“Do you guys see each
other often?” I asked.

“I pretty much force
them to show up for the Fourth of July party I throw every year. Jax
usually does something to draw the cops, but they’re all my buddies
anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Ian comes, too?”

Even Liam’s good
humor dampened at the question. “Not last year he didn’t. That
was the first time he’s missed. I’m worried about him. I keep
waiting for things to get better. Instead they keep getting worse.”

“I’m sure the
answer is yes,” I started, unsure, knowing I was treading on
sensitive ground. “But has he worked with a good therapist? Someone
trained in both massage and physical therapy? And water exercise,
that can be so good for rehab and pain. I know a whole bunch of
people I could put him in touch with—”

“Thank you, Emma.”
Liam meant it, but he also stopped me. “That’s good to know. I’m
sure it would do him a world of good. But he’s stopped all of
that.”

“But it’s what he
needs, if he’s got serious injuries. He needs to move, get
stronger. The more he sits, the more the pain will grow.”

“I know.” He
nodded, looking downcast. “I know.”

OK, I could tell I
needed to get down off my soapbox. There was a time to push, and a
time to sit back and listen. I’d only just met Liam. It wasn’t
time to establish myself as the Crazy Lady his friend Chase had
started dating, obsessed with her job and forcing it down people’s
throats whether they wanted it or not.

“Well, we can talk
more about that later,” I relented. “Tell me about the island
where you live.”

He warmed right up to
that topic, getting me laughing in no time with funny stories about
the uber-wealthy people who flocked in droves to Naugatuck. As a
firefighter, he got some ridiculous calls. Just last week, a member
of a vacationing hiphop star’s entourage had called in distress.
Quick, they had an emergency! Liam and a few other guys had responded
to the call, arriving at the estate to find the singer in purple silk
pajamas, his pet monkey high up in a tree and not coming down.

“But, don’t monkeys
live in trees?” I asked, not understanding the distress.

“Yes, they do,” he
confirmed. No rescue necessary, just a banana to lure him down.

It was exciting meeting
Liam, but nothing prepared me for the visitors who arrived the next
day. Chase had it all set up. We were back at the house, sitting
around watching TV. The Olympics, of course! The gymnastics
competition was on. The swimmers had all sorts of dirt on the other
athletes, who was juicing, who was just phoning it in (was anyone in
the games really just phoning it in?), who deserved the gold.

When the doorbell rang,
no one moved to get it.

“Emma, would you mind
seeing who that is?” Chase asked. I thought it was a little weird,
but, sure, I didn’t mind. I walked over, opened the door and there
stood my parents.

“Hi honey!” My mom
came in for a hug. “Surprise! Chase flew us down!”

“He what?” I stood
there in shock.

Dad hugged me, too, as
we all still remained in the doorway. “Well, can we come in and
meet Chase? And the team?” He looked around me, the eager fan.
Decked out head-to-toe in official Olympic USA Swim Team gear, my
parents were posterboard fans.

“I can’t believe
it!” I ushered them in and my dad fell right into talking stats
with Chase, congratulating him on his record in butterfly.

“I got to tell you, I
was worried about lane seven. Know what I mean?” I heard him
saying. “You never know what that guy’s going to bring. But you
had him beat.”

I stood there watching
my parents chat with Chase and the other swimmers, so full of
excitement and joy I was literally speechless. Chase looked over at
me, a full five inches taller than my dad so it wasn’t hard to
catch my eye. He gave me a wink, then returned his attention to my
father.

And just like that, I
knew. I was in love. Head over heels, want to spend the rest of my
life with him in love. It hadn’t taken long. I’d only met him
three and a half weeks ago. But when you knew, you knew.

The remaining events
flew by in a blur. Another silver, a bronze, then three gold medals
to finish, in the 200 IM, the 100 fly and the medley relay final.
Seeing him on the podium that last time, with his three teammates,
all of them raising their interlocked hands. I’d never felt
anything so emotional, the roar of the crowd, hugging my mom as we
both wiped tears from our eyes. I was so proud, so excited, so in
love.

He found me right
after, as we met him out on the swim deck. He swept me into his arms,
kissing me soundly, deeply, full of gratitude and promise. We were on
top of the world.

Chase

“How about Ibiza?”
I trailed my fingers down Emma’s back, pausing at the dip before
the swell of her buttocks. She had the best ass I’d ever seen, so
pert and round and perfect for playing. Right now with her lying
against my chest and my head propped up on a mound of pillows, I had
a great view. And with my long arms I could reach it, too, lightly
grazing her soft skin with my fingertips.

She wriggled under my
touch, pressing her pussy against my thigh. I could feel she was
still slick from my having just fucked her. Yes, we needed to go to
Ibiza. Or really any other beach town so I could have her in bikinis
half the time. The other half I’d have her completely naked.

“Where is Ibiza?”
she asked, lazily caressing my chest. What she could do to me with an
absent-minded stroke of her fingers, good Gawd.

“It’s an island in
the Mediterranean. Off the coast of Spain. It’s basically one, long
party in paradise all the time.”

“That sounds good to
me.” I could feel her smile against my chest.

“Or we could go
somewhere quieter. More private.” I cupped her ass cheek in my
hand, caressing it, drawing my fingers along the bottom of her swell,
dipping between her legs. “We could head straight up from Rio to
Antigua, or Saint Kitts.”

“How do you know
about all these places?” she picked up her head and looked at me.
“Have you been to them all?”

“No, but I know
people who have. I’ve been all work and no play. But that’s going
to change now.” Six gold medals and a world record to my name, I’d
say it was a good time to step away from my sport. Especially when I
was stepping into the warm and waiting arms of my woman.

She sighed happily.
“That sounds so good. I should probably talk to my boss. If she’s
still willing to talk to me.” Apparently Emma had had to do some
convincing to get a leave of absence to work with me. I’d have to
personally thank her boss, maybe give her a signed photo to hang in
her lobby. Her sports wellness practice had contributed to Olympic
gold. That ought to put her in a good mood. I should have a PR rep
FedEx the photo so she already had it in hand before Emma requested
more time away.

“Is it really almost
noon?” Emma sat up, having caught an unfortunate glimpse of the
clock. That was another thing, I needed to ban clocks from my life.
For a while, at least. I’d been so obsessed with time down to the
ticking fraction of a second. I was done with that. I wanted to
measure the passage of time in Emma’s moans and sighs of pleasure,
much more enjoyable metrics.

“I have to go get my
stuff! Tori and I are supposed to be out of the condo by two!” She
sat up and dashed into the bathroom to shower before I could slow her
down. See? I was already losing my edge. And it felt so good.

What seemed like only
moments later Emma dashed out again. Wet hair in a ponytail, she
slipped on panties, a sundress and flip-flops. I liked a woman who
didn’t need to primp. And she still looked deliciously gorgeous.

“I’ll be back in,
like, an hour? Or two? I have to run and get my stuff and then say
good-bye to my parents.”

I groaned. I was
supposed to have lunch with my mom before she took off today, too. My
father had already left last night.

“See you soon.” She
gave me a quick kiss and hustled out the door, leaving me with the
faint reminder of her freshly showered scent.

I gave myself another
blissed out minute, just lying in bed. Completely satisfied. And then
I checked my phone.

I’d turned it off the
night before. What could anyone have to get in touch with me about?
I’d swum my events. I’d done my part. Now it was time to chillax.

I had a lot of missed
calls. And a bunch of voicemails. And a shitload of texts and emails.
They were probably all offering congratulations, but it looked like a
lot even for that. Come to think of it, my roommates had knocked on
my bedroom door a couple of times, even though they knew I was in
there with Emma. What was up?

I started listening to
the first voicemail, congratulations from a former teammate and
friend. Then the next, another well-wisher. And as I listened, I
started scrolling through texts. Liam had tried to get in touch with
me a bunch of times, sending all caps CALL ME, and CALL ME NOW.

Teammates had called, a
coach had called, and a bunch of our team PR reps had tried to get in
touch with me. That was how I knew. It had to be some kind of news,
some breaking story.

But I still wasn’t
prepared for what I saw once I clicked on the link I finally found in
an email. Someone had sent it to me late last night, then a bunch
more this morning. Apparently, Emma and I had let the cat out of the
bag after the final awards ceremony. After a long eight days of
studiously avoiding any PDA, we’d embraced and kissed right in
front of the cameras. The world had watched and wanted to know. Who
was the woman in Chase Carter’s arms?

You know who Emma
Nelson was? She was a blogger. She wrote for a blog named Scoop’d,
a tell-all gossip blog sharing dirt on all the Olympic athletes. And
you know who that blog kept bragging they were about to run a big
story on? Which athlete they claimed to have an inside scoop on,
about to break the secret backstory everyone wanted to know? Me.
Chase Carter, sucker of the first order.

I had lots of practice
controlling my emotions and managing stress, and I did it, breathing
deeply, steadying my thoughts and hands as I found my laptop and
opened it up. I didn’t have to search around. I simply entered my
first name and the article popped up, all about me and my girlfriend,
the secret blogger.