In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Oh, hell no,” he said to a retreating Jessi.

She ignored him.

Damn it, he was the coach here, and she was
not
dismissing him like this. “Don’t do it, Pruitt,” he warned.

She gave him an evil glare. “I have to get back to work here. If you’re done?”

“Yeah. Not quite.” He started again. “I’m sorry I led you on—which included kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that.” She was waiting for more, and he dearly didn’t want to give it to her. But he would. To have a chance at Olympic gold, he would do this. “I’m sorry I made fun of you.”

“It was my first kiss, you know.”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know. And just to be clear, I’m not talking about making fun of your kissing.” He had liked the kiss an awful lot. It might have been her first, but it was
his
sweetest.

“Then what are you sorry for?”

She was going to make him say it. Aw, hell. “I’m sorry that I left you the night of the celebration party to have sex with a bartender. That was uncalled for.”

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Uncalled for? You not only left me alone at a party
you
brought me to, but when I caught you outside, you let your new
date
call me a child. You tried to let her think I was your little sister! It was cruel.”

Man, it sounded so much worse when she said it.

Dalton coughed. “Yes. And it was also eight years ago.”

She simply glared at him. Apparently, his attempt to redirect their conversation wasn’t appreciated. “Still, for what it’s worth, I was stupid and young, but I knew better. You were naïve, and I knew you thought what we had was more than what I was willing to give you. This isn’t an excuse for my behavior. I was flat out wrong. But Jessi, you have to understand, you had everything I wanted, including a gold medal, and I...I was pissed at you. Just so you know, I was pissed at everyone that night.”

Jessi was silent. She stared up at him with those blue eyes, and he felt like the jerk he was all over again.

“I just have one question.”

He was wary, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Shoot.”

“Why did you get involved with me in the first place?”

Well, that was easy to answer. She’d always been golden. She didn’t know what it was like to be anything less than perfect. He looked straight into the eyes that had mesmerized him years ago, and for the first time admitted what had bothered him for so long. “You were as close to gold as I was likely to get.”

Jessi could not believe this. This was supposed to be her moment! Here she was, prepared to stick it to Dalton, and he was going all deep and tortured on her. She really hadn’t envisioned what he would do when they finally saw each other again, but what she did know was that she hadn’t expected him to be...nice...ish.

She shouldn’t have been surprised Dalton would ruin this for her. Despite his apology, the man was a jerk. It was what he did. He wasn’t going to get away with it this time though. She was onto his tricks. She had learned what was on the other side of that charm the hard way. Dalton might be her coach, and she might have to work with him, even listen to him, but he was mistaken if he thought he was going to have the upper hand with her ever again.

“So, what you’re saying is that you were a loser who couldn’t win gold?”

Dalton had eyes so light blue she could almost see through them. Those eyes had made her think the naughtiest thoughts her eighteen-year-old mind had been capable of. Right now, they were narrowing in on her with what looked like extreme dislike. She smiled sweetly at him in response.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“So, why did you have to take me down with you?”

“I was under the impression you bounced back nicely,” he said dryly.

“Oh, I did. I’m sure you saw all the
Wheaties
boxes with my picture plastered on them when you got home from Brazil.” She wouldn’t give Dalton the satisfaction of knowing she’d cried for weeks after he’d left. When the tears had finally subsided, all that remained was a certain numbness that followed her through her first year of college.

“Sorry, I must have missed those.”

“Well, I was too young to be put on beer cans, so I can see how you might have overlooked them.”

“I preferred whiskey back then, but well played, Pruitt. I see time hasn’t made you bitter or anything.” The last part was said lightly with a little wink at the end.

She could tell he was trying to ease the situation with his innate charm. It was a strategy she remembered well. He liked to couple his inner jerk with a sexy smile that eased some of the sting his words left behind. In his defense, it usually worked. The man shouldn’t be allowed to flash that thing.

The fact that Jessi found herself even slightly attracted to this ass—ever—made her even more upset about their current situation. “Are you done having fun? Like I said, I have to get back to work.”

Dalton let the charm slip and put on a serious face. “Jessi, we’ve got to figure out a way to work together. You know it as well as I do.”

“Yes. I’m aware,” she snapped. She didn’t like him telling her what to do. Attempting to take back the upper hand, she leveled a direct look at him. “I have some conditions.”

“Okay.” Dalton sounded wary, and that was a good thing. He needed to be.

She braced her arms on the edge of the pool and pushed herself up so she could glare straight into his eyes. “First, don’t get the idea that this is eight years ago and I’m all in love with you. That crap is done with. Second,
we
aren’t doing a damn thing together. I will take your advice, and I won’t start anything, but this is my deal here, and I will take care of it. You’re here, and I can’t—or at least won’t—do anything about that. But I will be damned if you are a part of my life in any way, shape, or form. You’re my coach in name only. Got it?”

She was playing tough. She needed him to think she was made of steel. Jessi was running out of time and couldn’t afford to show weakness.

Unfortunately, Dalton didn’t buy the act.

“Nope. And apparently neither do you,” he replied, standing up. He looked over his shoulder as he walked away. “I’ll meet you halfway though. I agree. You do
not
have a thing for me. I’m happy you got the chance to vent. I’ll see you after breakfast.”

Oh, the ass was just trying to piss her off!

He also strategically ignored the wet mass that hit him square between the shoulder blades. Jessi Pruitt, grown woman and team captain of the United States Olympic Swim Team, had just thrown her swim cap at him. He stopped short, cocked his head to the side, but never turned around. Instead, he continued straight to the pool’s exit.

Chapter 4

“You threw your swim cap at him? Why? What did he say?”

Jessi was eating breakfast with Amelia Robertson, the youngest member of the U.S. Swim Team. The girl had come out of nowhere at trials. Given their similar backgrounds, Jessi felt compelled to take Amelia under her wing.

“Unfortunately, nothing,” Jessi muttered. “It would have been so much more satisfying if he had.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “But he just kept walking. Which is probably best.” Jessi supposed she’d better play the adult here.

That did not, however, mean she was going to review tape with Dalton. There was no way she was caving to that man’s demands. Her happy little butt would be on its way to physical therapy right after she worked up the gumption to eat the crappy breakfast lying in front of her.

“I would
love
to tell my coaches off like that. The breaststroking staff are complete douches.”

Jessi smiled. She remembered that feeling well. “It’s tough being the youngest person on the team. You’re being held to standards most adults would squirm under. Still, you have to play along. Coaches tend to be douches. It’s part of the job description. Sadly, so is being right, and most of the time, they are.”

“I know,” Amelia grumbled. “I just don’t see why you get to mouth off and I don’t.”

“Listen, Dalton and I have known each other a long time. We were teammates back in Brazil. We just rub each other the wrong way and say and do stupid stuff. We don’t mean anything by it,” Jessi lied. She quickly added, “I mean it, Amelia, don’t ever do that to a coach, okay? I really shouldn’t have, and if I didn’t know Dalton better, I wouldn’t have.” That part, at least, was true.

“Not to worry. I saw the way Coach McKinney looked at you. I would
never
say anything like that to a coach like him. That guy is hard sauce,” Amelia said in wide-eyed honesty.

That part was probably true as well. Amelia was clearly terrified of Dalton, and she didn’t scare easily. “That’s good. It’s important to listen to your coaches. I know they’re tough, but they have your best interests in mind. Keep your head down and listen to everything they say. Your job is to support your teammates and swim as fast as you can. Let them do the rest.”

A teenager through and through, Amelia gave a sigh of the perpetually afflicted. “He might be mean, but it’d be
so
much easier to listen if my coaches looked like him. If I were you, I wouldn’t fight with him. I’d be all ‘yes, sir, and what else can I do for you, Coach McKinney?’” She batted her eyelashes.

What was wrong with kids these days?

Jessi pursed her lips. She had noticed the girls looking at Dalton. She couldn’t blame them—he exuded sex appeal. But seriously, a little self-dignity would be nice. “Trust me--good looks are not all they’re cracked up to be.”

“They don’t hurt.”

“Just note that the good-looking ones usually know it. Don’t fall for their crap.”

The thought of Dalton and his good looks made her already waning appetite almost non-existent. This wasn’t helped in the slightest by her disgustingly healthy breakfast. Man, eating during an Olympic year sucked.

“It’s not like any of the guys notice me anyway,” Amelia grumbled. At sixteen and gangly, she’d yet to grow into herself.

“Give it time. They will.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Amelia nodded and pushed her food around her plate. “Why were you guys fighting anyway?”

God, she didn’t want to talk about this. They hadn’t made it through the morning yet, and people were already whispering about Dalton and her. “He just told me I had to fix some things with my fly. I guess I have a hard time taking directions from some guy who used to be a teammate, you know?”

“You don’t have problems taking directions from Coach Jameson.” Amelia eyed her with suspicion.

Jessi tried not to be annoyed. “Yeah, but Sawyer was better than me,” she said with a conspiratorial grin. “Dalton wasn’t.” Jessi wasn’t normally cocky, but when the situation called for it...

Amelia laughed and started back into her food. She stopped mid bite though and looked up, mouth and eyes gaping like a scared fish. Someone was obviously standing behind Jessi, and that someone frightened Amelia. There were only two people that really intimated her, and Jessi had the sinking feeling it was someone in particular. Someone who was
not
Sawyer.

“Jessi, we need to go over that tape.”

Damn it. Seriously? He had to interrupt her breakfast... such as it was.

“I told you I would meet you in the film room after I was finished,” she tersely lied without looking up from her tray. After her little speech to Amelia about listening to coaches, Jessi couldn’t afford to look hypocritical. The girl was already onto her. Still, she wasn’t going to meet with him, ever. She saw absolutely no reason to let him—or Amelia—in on this little tidbit of information.

“Actually, no, you didn’t. Unless, that is, you consider throwing your swim cap at me a way of telling me you’ll see me later.” Dalton paused.

Since she refused to look at him, she couldn’t be sure what had grabbed his attention, but Jessi got the feeling he was looking at her food. She resisted the immature urge to wrap her arms around her tray and hunch over it to keep him from his perusal.

“Besides,” Dalton continued, “given what they’re feeding you this morning, it could be hours before you finally work up the nerve to choke it down. Just bring it with you.”