Playing for Hearts (102 page)

She cried.

She'd lost.

She'd failed.

Arms gently guided her inside. With her friends' help, she sat on the floor, bookended by Shauna and Diana on each side of her. She held her face in the palms of her hands and gasped through the sobs. Between wails of self-pity and sorrow, she told them every little detail.

The mixed feelings, the declaration of love, Bruce's fascination with Janelle, her own lack of confidence, and most of all how much finding out Bruce invited Janelle to
her
apartment hurt her. She had no idea how long she talked, but she continued until her eyes were swollen and she'd destroyed a half a box of Kleenex.

When she couldn't cry any more, she leaned against Diana and stared at Dana who sat on the floor across from her. Juan's pretty, kindhearted wife wiped the tears from her own face, making Crista feel even worse. Every one of them came from a different background, but they had one thing in common: their men were all professional athletes just like Bruce.

“I'm sorry.” She lifted her head off Diana and swiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. “I don't know why I fell apart. I never do this, and I didn't mean to put all of you in a bad position, being Bruce's friends, too. I would never have called you … not yet. Bruce should've just left, and forgotten about me.”

“That's part of your problem.” Diana nudged her with her shoulder. “You're strong and badass. Bruce—God, he's like the rest of our men. He'll treat you like you're incapable of putting a new toilet paper roll on the hanger. It's a jock trait. He's bound to take care of you and if he can't do it, he'll call everyone he knows to fix the problem.”

“Great … ” She curled her lip. “Now I'm a problem.”

“We're not saying that,” said Shauna. “It's just that I heard Bruce's voice. He seemed sincere, and he was scared. Our guys don't get scared unless there's a reason to be worried.”

“Yeah, he's scared I caught him with the bitch down the hall,” Crista muttered. “He pushed and pushed me, and now I've lost all my belongings.”

“I love when Juan forces me to let him make the decisions.” Dana crawled closer and sprawled out on her stomach near Crista. “Before I met him, you should've seen me. I walked around as if I had a stick up my ass and I was late for the business deal of my life. Because he never gave up or pressured me about my need to organize every little detail, I found out it was okay if I wasn't always in charge. The weird part was, I needed to use him as an excuse to step back and calm down.”

Crista drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. Was that what she was doing? No … she'd already decided to step back from competing and concentrate on training others before he'd shown up. Bruce had fallen into her plans; he hadn't tried to change her.

“There's more to it than personalities clashing or one of us wanting to change.” She plopped her chin on her upturned knees. “He coerced me into setting him up with Janelle. We totally baited her. I helped him get close to her. He came to me … okay, I went to him afterward, but we both know he wanted Janelle before me. She's perfect. You all would hate her on sight.”

Shauna snorted. “Damn right. Any woman who stabs any one of us girls in the back gets put on our hate-for-life list.”

“We have a list?” Diana raised her brows. “Who's on it?”

“Every bitch that Grayson ever dated, dreamed about, talked to, or looked at more than three seconds,” Shauna said. “Including the sixty-two-year-old cashier at the store back home. Little slut, always helping him load the cart and taking it to his car for him … and he lets her.”

Angie nodded. “Gary's old one night stands are on the list, too. Not the ones who flirted with him and failed. Just the ones he slept with.”

“Every woman in the world, except the ones in this room, and especially the woman who gave Juan that stupid nickname. If I knew who she was, I'd punch her in the throat,” Dana said.

“Amante Español,” Shauna muttered. “Sexy name, but wrong … so wrong.”

Even though they were trying to make her feel better, they were all forgetting one important thing. She inhaled and swallowed so hard, they all heard the gulp. “It's different. You all have your man in your life. I don't. Bruce is my best friend … no offense, but he gets me. I lost everything today because I couldn't win over Janelle. I can't see him again because it'll destroy me, and that means I'll never be around when everyone gets together. I just can't. It feels like I'm dying and he's only been gone a few hours.”

To her surprise, through the pain, she was also angry, and that antagonism was directed at Janelle. Crista had sat back and watched her so-called friend go after every man in the apartment complex who had a girlfriend or worse, was married. Instead of telling her off for the bitch she was, she'd tried to remain on friendly terms because they were neighbors.

Enough was enough though, and if someone didn't stop Janelle's nasty little habit, the supermodel was going to break up a sacred union. Crista stood, her mind finally made up on how she could solve one of her problems.

“Wait.” Shauna heaved herself off the floor and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

“To cross one bitch off the hate-for-life list,” she said, walking to the door.

“Oh, shit,” Diana said. “She's going to kill the supermodel.”

“Stop.” Angie ran to the door and blocked Crista from leaving. “Let's talk about this. Maybe there's more to the story and Bruce is innocent. Have you ever thought of that?”

“Innocent? Janelle answered my phone. Bruce was with her, I heard his voice. There's nothing more to say,” Crista reached around Angie's slim waist and pulled on the door, forcing her friend to move away. “I'm done feeling sorry for myself and comparing how I look and act to a woman who fried her brain from all the hair dye and diet drugs she's abused for the last five years. She's not ruining my life or anyone else's, ever again.”

She marched out of the apartment, down the hall, and knocked on Janelle's door. When Janelle opened it, Crista said, “For three years, I've stood back while you made a fool of yourself by going after everyone's man in the apartment building, but it stops now.”

“What are you talking about?” Janelle fluffed her hair. “I'm getting ready for a party, and I don't have time to figure out your simple little problems when I have a big decision to make that involves Armani and Klein.”

Defensive and pissed, Crista planted her foot in the doorway, blocking the door from slamming. “What makes you think you're better than I am? That you can flirt and steal Bruce away from me?”

Janelle's perfectly arched brows grew even higher. “Is that what he said?”

“No. In fact, he hasn't mentioned your name … at all.” Crista leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Stay away from him. Do not call. Do not try to contact him. Do not even breathe the same air as him.”

“He doesn't have a ring on his finger yet,” Janelle said, smirking.

Score one for the blonde. Crista poked Janelle in the shoulder. “Back off the men who are already taken, or the next time I'm going to deck you so hard, you'll swallow those shiny white caps on your teeth.”

“She'll pop a boob, too.” Diana added from behind her.

Janelle gazed over Crista's head at Diana and sneered. “I'm not scared of you little girls, playing your high school days over again in my hallway.”

Crista shook her head. “You're pathetic. You can deny your behavior all you want, Janelle, but that's the real reason you relied on my friendship for the past few years. No other woman would put up with the competition. They wouldn't allow you to be a part of their everyday life because you're fake and manipulative. But guess what? None of the men you screwed around with are in your apartment right now, are they? You don't have someone to satisfy you in bed or out of bed because all they see is a desperate woman. You're going to spend your life trying to find the one good man who would give you everything, and you can't even recognize him through your false eyelashes when you see him.”

She turned around and slung her arm around Diana's back. “Come on, let's go. I'm done here.”

Halfway back to her apartment, Janelle called Crista's name. She glanced at Diana and turned around. “What?”

“You're wrong.” Janelle glanced down the other end of the hallway and continued. “I didn't have sex with Bruce while everyone was in the apartment packing your belongings because if I had, you can bet he'd be with me and not you.”

Crista stared at the other woman.
Her belongings?

Her heart raced at the bit of news. She played the day's events back through her head. She went for a ride, got a flat, called Bruce, talked to Janelle, hiked a mile, and called a taxi, and then sat out on the boardwalk for an hour while she calmed down enough to go up and tell Bruce to leave. In the meantime, Janelle said everyone helped Bruce pack her apartment. She'd been gone three, maybe four hours max. There was no way Bruce could manage to clear her apartment out by himself if he was having sex with Janelle instead.

No freaking way.

Adrenaline flooded her body. She grabbed Diana's hand. “I need my phone.”

“I'm on it,” Diana said, pulling her into the apartment. “Get the girl a phone. She's come to her senses and needs to act fast before her man gets away.”

Crista thrust her hands in her hair in frustration and shook her head. “You all knew Bruce didn't sleep with Janelle, didn't you?”

Shauna handed her a phone. “Bruce plays around, but he's not the type to hurt you or throw your friendship away. I had all the confidence in the world that when he called me to check on you, whatever happened could be fixed. The man sounded like he was drowning with the fish. He loves you. And I mean in a love-love you way.”

She smiled. It was true. Once she let go of the doubts, she believed he loved her, no matter who came into their lives.

“I changed my mind,” she said. “I'm not calling him.”

“What?” Angie said, moving closer. “I thought—”

“No, you thought right. I love him, and he loves me. But I'm not calling him.” She punched in the number for her travel agent and held the phone to her ear. “I'm going through with our plans, and I'm flying to Washington. Can you all take me to the airport?”

All four of them smiled and nodded. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, holding in the excitement threatening to consume her. She still had to make things right with Bruce, but they'd be together. That's all that mattered.

A crowd of over two thousand spectators gathered three people deep along the western shores of Moses Lake. Bruce stood, ankle deep, in the water beside the sixteen-foot-trolling boat. The other competitors had left at the sound of the buzzer five minutes ago.

“What do you mean, Angie's on her way home? She and the other girls are supposed to be with Crista. I told Shauna to call me, and she hasn't. She knew I was busy, and I wanted someone to stay with Crista until I knew she was okay.” Bruce switched hands and held the phone to his other ear to continue talking with Gary. “Call Juan or Grayson and have them find out what is going on.”

“Grayson's having his own troubles. He's running a clinic for the junior league and Kate—Shauna's friend who usually watches Trevor when both of them are busy—is in bed with morning sickness. Grayson had to take the kid on the court with him. He doesn't have time to talk with anyone today,” Gary said.

“What about Juan?” Bruce reached for the boat as it began to drift away. “Maybe he's heard from Dana.”

“Tried, man. His calls are going to voicemail,” Gary said. “Listen, you need to go do your thing. Let Crista do her thing. When you're finished, then you can worry about her. She's a big girl … she doesn't need you holding her hand.”

“This isn't any other girl. It's Crista,” he muttered.

“I know, and she'd kick your ass if you threw a competition. Go win,” Gary said. “I'll catch back up with you later and in the meantime, I'll see what I can do about finding out more.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He disconnected the call and shoved the phone in his shorts pocket.

Ignoring all the curious gazes and the head shaking from the officials, he grabbed on to the side of the boat and hurled himself inside. He checked his watch.
Shit.

He only had five minutes until the whistle blew to cut the motor and designate his spot on the lake. In quick concession, he drove the boat out to the southwest corner of the lake, hoping he hadn't already lost the number one spot he'd scouted last year during the fall. There was just enough debris in the water to create a hiding ground for wide mouth bass with enough shade to make the bass curious. He hoped to tempt the fish out into the sunshine with little effort.

The air horn from the judges' table on shore echoed over the surface of the water. He cut off the outboard motor and let the momentum of the boat push him toward the sheltered shoreline where a canopy of towering alder trees stood. While he grabbed his tackle box, he scanned the area around him. At least a dozen boats, scattered anywhere from twenty-five to one hundred feet from each other, were right in view of watching his every move. He'd have stiff competition this year because everyone wanted to take out the current champion.

He recognized Bill Kingston, fishing for Superior, Steven Longley representing Big Bear, and last year's second place winner, Greg Dermont. Adrenaline fueled him forward. He loved the challenge, the isolation, the need to be the best.

Using crank bait on his hook, he cast the line, leaving fifteen feet of release. He moved into motion with a pitching and flipping technique, hoping he'd guessed right and all he had to do was lure the motherfuckers out of hiding.