In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Allie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“Oh, crap, Jessi, are you okay?” Allie blurted out at the same time.

They both laughed. “Yes. Thank you,” Jessi said as they sorted themselves out. “Done for the night?”

“Yep. I’m headed to a wine bar with some of the other PR and media folks. Are you interested in joining us? I hear the grownups have a night out tonight.” Allie smiled conspiratorially.

Being a competitive swimmer had never really allowed much room for frivolity. Despite what Jessi had told Claudel about staying in tonight, Allie’s proposal of a fun night out, and most importantly, female companionship with a woman Jessi’s own age, was too good to pass up.

“
Yes
,” she said with heartfelt conviction. “If you don’t mind going out with a girl in sweats.”

“Actually, after the day I’ve had, sweats sound really good right now. How about I cancel with my friends, go home, shower, and get my own yoga pants on? We’ll go to a sports bar. Maybe you can sneak in a chicken finger or two,” Allie teased.

“Allie, I can’t tell you how good that sounds. I might take a chicken finger over sex right now.” Totally untrue, but not by a lot. Chicken fingers were darn tasty and completely forbidden. Kind of like kinky sex. “But I hate to have you cancel with your friends.”

“Hey, girl, don’t worry about it. I’m not in the mood for wine and tiny pieces of something liberally described as food anyway. If you’re up for a night of chicken fingers, I’ll throw the ranch dressing in for free,” Allie replied.

Jessi groaned in ecstasy.

“How about I pick you up at seven sharp so we can make the most of your free time?” Allie suggested. “There’s this great sports bar that’s not far from here. They’ve got a ton of TVs and really good fried food.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Jessi was an athlete. Yes, she liked stereotypical girl stuff, but she didn’t do what she did because she didn’t love sports and competition. Quite the opposite. She also enjoyed watching others like her push their bodies to amazing limits. Watching a game, match, or race with friends and a cold beer was just more appealing than sipping wine in a swanky bar.

The chicken fingers Allie had mentioned popped into her mind. She was on a mission. “I’ll head up to my room and see you in few.” Jessi headed toward the wing of the facility that held the dorm rooms. It had been a long day, and while she’d have to forgo the cold beer, the fried food, a good game, and good girl chat sounded amazing.

Chapter 14

Dalton looked around the bar, taking in his surroundings. While it was just him and Sawyer, the girl at the host station had recognized them from the press that was amping up in anticipation of the Olympic Games. Coaches didn’t typically take the spotlight of media coverage. However, Sawyer had been right—the media was salivating over them working together. They’d already run a few stories, which, surprisingly, weren’t that bad. The hostess had recognized the two of them immediately and quickly ushered them into a big, half-circle booth.

Since it was just two grown men, the seating looked ridiculous. It was a serious waste of space on what was sure to be a busy night. On the other hand, the booth’s location did provide a great view of the big flat-screen TV above the bar. A soccer game was on, and a cold beer sat in front him. Dalton couldn’t complain.

“Ah, God, this is good,” Sawyer said as he leaned back on the booth’s padded bench. “The team’s looking stout, huh?” he asked, tipping the neck of his beer toward the screen featuring the U.S. Men’s Soccer Team.

“Yep. Think they can pull it off?” Dalton asked dubiously.

“Nope. But maybe they can make it into the medal round,” Sawyer answered.

The U.S. Men’s Soccer Team was one of those sad subjects for men. Confident in their prowess as the stronger sex, there was something fundamentally terrifying in knowing that the women’s team could kick their collective asses.

The sports conversation between Dalton and Sawyer had been short and to the point. Just the kind of guy talk he liked. He hated it when people talked over the game. They’d gotten to the bar right after practice, not waiting for seven to roll around since, after all, the rules didn’t apply to them. The crowd was starting to pick up, but thankfully, it was downtime for other sports, so the TV probably wouldn’t change channels mid-game.

Dalton looked to the door as a fresh wave of folks walked in. He swore under his breath when Jessi and Allie sauntered in at the end of the string of newcomers. Dalton had really been looking forward to some non-headache inducing conversation.

Thankfully, both women had dressed down for the occasion. He was not in a frame of mind to handle a decked-out Jessi. The sporty version turned him on enough as it was. Allie had changed into yoga pants that cut off at the calf and a tight, short-sleeved shirt. Her thick brown hair had been pulled into a lose ponytail at the base of her neck. She looked good, but not as good as the cute little sprite behind her.

Jessi hadn’t changed clothes since their conversation outside of the locker room. She had put on a running jacket though, which was good, since the tight white tank top she was wearing didn’t do much to hide her pert little nipples.

Fuck. This was not going well in the way of reaching a state of relaxation. Thankfully, the hostess hadn’t recognized Jessi. She gave her and Allie a regular booth across the bar from where he sat with Sawyer. Dalton crouched down a little.

He wasn’t hiding, damn it. He was still wound up and really didn’t want to think about Jessi right now. On the other hand, he’d better tell Sawyer that she was here. Her booth was in plain sight of theirs, so if Sawyer saw her, he might want to invite her over. Dalton didn’t want Jessi next to him at the moment. The fit of his jeans sucked whenever she was around, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. If he could nonchalantly tip Sawyer off, maybe he could keep him focused on the game.

“Hey, man, Jessi just walked in,” he said, not looking away from the screen as if he didn’t give a good goddamn.

“Oh yeah? Where?” Sawyer didn’t seem that interested. His response seemed more along the lines of polite conversation.

“Over to the left, second table in.” Again, Dalton didn’t look away from the screen. Please, please let that be a tip to Sawyer that he didn’t want to deal with swimmers right now. Or, more accurately, the woman he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Got her. She’s with Allie. That’s good. She needs some girl time with someone her own age. Let’s leave her alone, okay?”

Thank you, Jesus!
Dalton relaxed. “Yep.” He returned his focus to the match. At least in appearance.

In reality, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jessi. He kept sneaking covert glances her way every now and then. She looked good sitting there with Allie.

Once again, he found himself appreciating the grownup version of this woman. She’d pulled her hair up into one of those messy knots that women liked. A few errant curls had started to make their way out, falling lightly into her face, and longer ones brushed her neck. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her skin looked scrubbed and fresh with her little freckles peeking out over her nose.

Perhaps most attractive though, was her beautiful, easy smile. She didn’t smile easy with him. Not normally, anyway. Now and then he would catch a glimpse—an unintended slip of the tough veneer she put on for his sake.

He watched her openly, enjoying the view. After a while, Allie got up and headed toward the restrooms. Jessi smiled as she left and then sat back to survey the bar.

That was when she caught his eye. Her smile faltered briefly, but then she gave him a naughty little grin and picked up a huge, heavily battered chicken finger and dipped it liberally in what looked like ranch dressing. The cute little shit took a huge bite. She scrunched her nose and squinted her eyes in a “take that” look.

Dalton laughed. God, she was a pain in his ass. In return, he raised his beer, tipped it toward her for a second, and then took a long sip. He let the cold, hoppy liquid slide down his throat. He looked at her and smiled, but stopped dead.

He’d expected to see a teasing look that communicated something along the lines of “Oh, fuck off”—the usual Jessi fare. Instead, what he saw shook him to the core and turned his already suffering cock rock hard.

Jessi had a look of sheer lust on her face. Her plump bottom lip was sucked into her mouth. Her teeth lightly worked the flesh. Whatever she’d seen him do had turned her on. That, in turn, made Dalton want to stomp across the bar, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her out back to push her up against the wall and screw her brains out.

Well now. That was a problem.

Something about her made him go all caveman. He didn’t like it. He wasn’t the possessive sort. He liked women...a lot. But he typically wasn’t affected by them romantically. He sure as hell had never wanted to make one his. He liked his relationships to be passionate, but more importantly, he liked them to be brief.

Jessi was different. She made him giddy, nervous, and crazy-happy all at once. She also made him edgy, angry, and possessive. That, and all of its fabulousness, was a problem.

Crap. That was hot.
Dalton had set down his beer, but he was still staring at her. His piercing blue gaze was disturbingly unnerving.

Jessi recovered herself as quickly as she could. She assumed an irritated look. Then very slowly and deliberately—just to even the score—she picked up yet another chicken finger and dipped it in her dressing. Bringing it to her mouth, she darted out her tongue and swirled it around the chicken finger, lapping up the dressing. Dalton’s eyes widened as he watched her.

Satisfied that she was indeed making an impression, she narrowed her eyes and brutally crunched down, making sure to show lots of teeth. Then she set the chicken down and calmly wiped her hands on her napkin. Looking back up at him, she smiled sweetly and flipped him off.

Allie returned from the restroom. As she approached the table, Jessi watched her friend look around to see what had her attention. Eyeing Dalton and Sawyer, she waved and scooched back into her seat.

“How’s the bathroom?” Lame, but it was the best Jessi had.

“Ah, nice, I suppose. Everything okay here?”

“Yepper deppers.” Jessi did her best to maintain a normal conversation with her friend. Now and then, her eyes would find Dalton’s and quickly dart away. Shit. He was watching her too.

She started to sweat. Dalton’s little stunt had seriously turned her on, and his hooded glances weren’t helping any. He was so freaking sexy as it was. Why did he have to go and give her a view of his head tipped back in ecstasy as the long, strong muscles of his throat took sultry slow sips of that delicious looking—and completely off limits, just like the man—beer? That was so unfair. It was like watching a sex scene in slow motion. Equally unfair was that she couldn’t have a damn drink to calm her naughty little self down.

This was awful. Why couldn’t he and Sawyer be responsible like all the other coaches and help babysit the younger kids? Those two should be watching a crappy movie and drinking some knock-off brand soda right now. He had no business ruining her night on the town.

“Jessi, you look like you’re really bothered by Sawyer and Dalton. Should we go say hi?” Allie asked.

“No, they saw us. I think they want to be left alone. I’m pretty sure they’ve got a bro-mance thing going on.” Jessi tried for a light tone. She didn’t want anyone to pick up on what was going on between her and Dalton. If anyone figured out that they had serious chemistry—and not in a coach/swimmer kind of way—Dalton would be reassigned immediately.

She’d come to terms with the fact that she needed him to help her work through her stroke. If she was honest, she didn’t want him to go anywhere for much more personal reasons.

“Sort of ironic given their history, isn’t it?” Allie laughed. “I guess all that fighting and competition was just a form of sexual tension.”

Jessi laughed because that was just funny, but the mention of sexual tension didn’t do a thing for her state of mind. She’d have to skip the wedding shows tonight and head straight to a romance novel if she was going to get any sleep. Jessi was a healthy young woman and wasn’t ashamed to admit to having creative fingers now and then.