Streaking for Silver (An Olympic Medal Romance Book 2)

BOOK: Streaking for Silver (An Olympic Medal Romance Book 2)
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Streaking for Silve
r
© 2016 LV Lewis

 

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Streaking for Silver

The Olympics have never been so sexy.

Hunter Fitzpatrick’s entire life has consisted of swimming, first for fun, and now as a first-time international competitor bound for the Olympics. He is a lonely young man who lives with his mother and the memory of his late twin brother. On the plane, he meets the alluring Solange Marcus.

Solange is an athletic trainer whose fear of flying lands her in Hunter’s capable hands. The chemistry between them builds up considerably and Hunter finds himself falling for her as they see more of each other in Rio. Solange is running from her past—one so recent it could prove to be a drawback in her future relationships.

Join Hunter and Solange in a web of intrigue as they seek to work around the danger her past presents for their budding relationship as Hunter goes on an early silver winning streak. Will a collision with Solange’s past rob Hunter of his chance for gold?

 
Readers Note

Streaking for Silver
is an Olympic-themed standalone novella set in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil, the location of this year’s Summer Olympic Games.

 

Going for Gold
was release on August 1, and the third novella,
Bidding for Bronze
will be released on August 15.

 

They will be bundled and released as a box set on August 22, 2016.

Chapter 1

Hunter Fitzpatrick swallowed the lump in his throat, and looked into eyes identical to his own.

“I’m on my way to Rio, Alex. You always said
we’d
go to the Olympics someday. I know you would’ve kept that promise if you could’ve. It doesn’t make this any easier for me knowing that you won’t be pushing me to best your breaststroke or your awesome freestyle, but I’ll be facing some pretty stiff competition regardless, and I need you with me buddy.”

Turning away from his brother’s laughing eyes he glanced at his clothes folded neatly on the bed and began to pack his suitcase.

Hunter was as excited as person diagnosed with depression and healthy dose of anxiety could be about the upcoming games in Brazil. He was going to participate in the Olympic swimming competition for team USA, and he was hopeful that he would emerge the eventual winner in one or all of the events he had qualified to participate in. This was going to be his debut at the Olympics and so he was pretty nervous about the whole experience. Talking to Alex was his coping mechanism for dealing with his anxiety.

Losing his twin had felt like losing a limb. Sometimes he could feel the ghost of Alex with him during momentous decisions or when he was particularly stressed about something.

Hearing soft footfalls approaching his door, he turned to see his mother peeking into his bedroom. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Just about,” he said. He closed his suitcase and began stuffing his team duffel bag.

“Okay, I have your favorite tacos waiting for you downstairs,” she said, slipping away to let him finish packing his things.

Hunter wondered what life would’ve been like if Alex were still alive. Alex was the one who had pushed him into swimming from the time when they were little kids when they shared a friendly rivalry in most things athletic as siblings often did. Alex had died in a car accident when he was twenty and Hunter had been devastated to the point of depression, and had even thought of taking his own life, the only deterrent being his loving mother, Carmelita.

Alex had not only been his only sibling, but his best friend even though he had been ten minutes older than Hunter. After Alex’s death, Hunter vowed to continue swimming until he excelled to elite level and now that he was going to represent the USA in the Olympics, he was going to win for Alex. He knew that Alex was somewhere up there looking down on him, and it made Hunter smile to think how happy Alex would’ve been to know he was going to Rio to compete.

He glanced again at the framed photo on his nightstand of him and Alex at a fraterity party—the last photo they would ever take together. A week later, Alex had taken a fateful car ride to an away football game with another frat brother. Hunter had come down with strep throat and had not been able to go or he might have perished also. He and his mother had both gone to therapy to deal with the aftermath. His survivor’s guilt manifested because he and Alex had been so close, and his mother’s because she felt guilty about being so thankful she had forbidden him and not Alex as well to go to the game.

Hunter picked up the photo and buried it deep into his luggage. He would not be going to Rio without Alex after all.

Struggling down the stairs with both of his bags, Hunter spilled down into the kitchen and set them on the floor by the stairwell.

“Mm, something smells really good down here,” he said, walking over to join his mother, who’d just finished plating their breakfast.

“Come on, sit down and have your meal,” his mother said, placing the food onto the counter as Hunter pulled out a bar stool and sat on it.

“With this sort of cooking, I'm wondering if I'll be able to eat while I'm in Rio for the games,” he said, picking up a breakfast taco and dipping it into some salsa before biting into it.

“Ha, believe me, staying at the Olympic Village will be like staying in a big five star hotel. I hear the food is excellent and will taste much better than mine,” his mother said.

Carmelita Fitzpatrick was no amateur when it came to cooking. His mother could really throw down in the kitchen.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter whether it’s like a five star hotel or not, the truth that remains that mama’s cooking is always the best,” he said, wolfing down the meal.

When he was done, he picked up his plate and took it to the sink, quickly washing the dishes just as he had been taught to do when he was a child. Hunter still lived with his mother because she’d struggled so hard with Alex’s death, and he didn’t want her to be alone if he moved out, and besides, it wasn’t like he was attached to anyone. His experiences with the opposite sex had been dismal since the tragedy claimed Alex, and he’d had a lot of shit to overcome. Anyway, he was the only thing his mother had left. His father had died of a heart attack when he and Alex had been juniors in high school.

Post-college, he had been in a few relationships with women, but none of them seemed to work out. At times he felt like there was a hole in the middle of his heart and the pressure was also rising for him to get himself a life companion who got him on a level that surpassed his public persona. He wondered if that was ever going to happen because he could not seem to find anyone that he could call a soul mate. There had been non-committed hook-ups, but things fizzled out when he was unable to share anything significant about his life and his past with a woman.

Turning away from the sink, he checked his watch. “Well, mom, I think it’s time for me to leave for the airport.”

“I'm pretty sure you’re going to shine in Rio. Do me proud son,” Carmelita said as they walked out of the kitchen towards the front door to check if the cab had arrived to drop him off.

“Mom, I'm doing this for you and Alex and I'm going to make sure that our name shines out there,” he smiled at her as the cab pulled up outside the house.

“I love you, son, take care of yourself,” Carmelita said, throwing her arms around him and hugging him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ride with you to the airport?”

“And pay a cab to bring you back, too?  Not necessary. Just make sure you don’t miss
your
flight,” Hunter said. His mother had not driven since Alex’s death, because her anxiety attacks had gotten so severe. She never knew when they were going to emerge. His on the other hand had abated since he’d upped his training when he began seriously pursuing a pro swimming career.

His mother would be joining him in Rio the day before his event, their meager income not affording her the luxury of being there for opening and closing ceremonies. He hugged his mother warmly, and kissed her lightly on the cheek before grabbing his bags and heading to the waiting cab.

The taxi driver headed off to the airport, where Hunter was to meet with others from Baton Rouge and New Orleans going to the Olympics. He knew many of the other athletes that would be taking part from seeing them at meets and on television, and he felt very humbled to actually meet up with them now, and even be a part of them.

Hunter hung around his fellow swimmers, but when they boarded the plane, he found himself seated next to a young, pretty woman that he had not seen before. She had long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and sea blue eyes that were kind, despite how gorgeous she was. She smiled at him as he put his carryon luggage in the bin before sitting down next to her. There was something about her that got his heart racing, although he could not quite explain what it was.

Frowning inwardly he thought,
Fuck if I’m going to have a panic attack now!
This was the first girl to pique his interest in a while, and he’d be damned if he were going out like that—and just prior to the Olympics. He breathed deeply, yet surreptitiously, the way his therapist had taught him to ward off the prospect of an attack.

“Hi, you must be very excited,” she smiled at him as she offered him her hand.

“You can say that again. This is my first trip to the Olympics,” he said, shaking her hand. “Hunter Fitzpatrick.”

“Mine, too, Hunter. Solange Marcus.” He noticed a pair of perfect white teeth and sexy dimples that formed on her cheeks when she smiled at him. As he sat down, she continued, “I really hate flying and I was hoping I would get someone that I could talk to during take-off and landing.”

“Solange.” Hunter said her name as if he were worshipping a deity. Then mentally shook himself for being such a dork. “You have nothing to worry about as long as I’m by your side. I'll be right here for you,” he said. His eyes travelled briefly over her body as she gripped the armrest between them and looked nervously out the window. He like what he saw very much.

Solange was wearing an oversized T shirt and leggings that traced over toned thighs in a way that made his imagination go wild. As she adjusted in her seat, he could see the outline of a firm pair of breasts and Hunter had to look away quickly, so he wouldn’t seem like a pervert, as she turned back to him.

“So, are you going to the Olympics as a tourist, or are you also an athlete?” she asked, as her own eyes roamed appreciatively over his body, studying him keenly in a manner that told him she was interested, too.

“Well, I'm actually on the swimming team.” he said, as her blue eyes locked with his.

“Oh, really? I don’t know all the athletes at LSU, but I’ve never heard of you.”

There was no inflection of negativity in her tone, so Hunter continued to engage her in conversation.

“Probably not, because I just made the national team this year,” Hunter said to her as the plane’s engines began firing up in readiness for takeoff.

“Holy crap! Here comes one of the moments that I hate most in life,” she said nervously, and he could see her hand trembling slightly.

Without thinking twice, Hunter grabbed her hand and squeezed it as she held onto his tightly. He had never seen anyone look so vulnerable. He felt sorry for Solange. On impulse, he reached for the ever-present barf-bag with his free hand and demonstrated how she should hold it to her mouth.

“This is a trick my mother taught us to do when we were young, breathe in and then out in long deep breaths and it will make you feel much better,” he said to her as the plane began to move forward.

She took the bag eagerly from his hand with one of her own and did as he told her, breathing in and out of the paper bag as the plane took off. She continued clinging onto his hand as he squeezed hers, and Hunter couldn’t understand why he felt as if there was some sort of connection between them. He was certain he felt something stirring deep within him, something that he couldn’t quite comprehend.

Maybe he was just imagining things because it had been such a long time that he had been with a woman. But even the scent of her perfume along with her natural scent had every nerve within his body alive in ways that he hadn’t experienced before. He had to force his mind away from those thoughts. Those feelings were probably occurring because of the pressure he was under from competing in the games and they would probably be gone within no time.

“Wow, this paper bag trick really worked.” Solange breathed a sigh of relief, releasing his hand and putting the paper bag away. “I think you’re the best companion I could’ve gotten to sit next to me on all the flights I’ve ever taken. Here, I owe you one.”

Before Hunter knew what was happening, Solange leaned over and pecked him lightly on the cheek. He felt a surge of heat spreading through him in the strangest way, his blood coming to a flash boil. He was not supposed to react like this, because this was just an innocent kiss, but yes he had, and he could even feel something stirring to life in his loins.

She reached for his hand again, almost involuntarily, as she sat back in her seat, and feelings Hunter couldn’t quite fathom were going through his mind. It was as if their hands were meant to be joined like this, meant for each other.

“I’ve told you why I’m going to Rio, so now it’s your turn,” Hunter said. He was truly interested in this engaging, attractive woman, and couldn’t wait to get to know her better. After all she’d held his hand, kissed his cheek, and was holding his hand again as if they’d known each other forever.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I’m an athletic trainer. I work with the track and field teams at Louisiana State University.

“Really, so how long have you been a trainer?”

“Two years since graduating from LSU.”

“I’m a graduate of Tulane,” he said. “But I train on the LSU campus since turning pro three years ago.”

“Do you live in New Orleans or Baton Rouge?”

“Baton Rouge.”

“Get out! So do I. Where?”

“I live in Mallard Lakes with my mother. You?” He figured he’d get that out there first, so she wouldn’t freak about it later.

“Small world. I live in University Acres.”

Her eyes were still shining with glee and he hoped that meant she was still interested, if he was reading her right.

“I live with my mother, too,” she continued, “A rather recent turn of events, but I hope to eventually move out on my own again.”

“Since I train so much now, it’s more convenient to live with my Mom, but I also do it by choice because all we have is each other, you know?”

Solange gave him the most sincere sweet smile. “You’re very brave to admit that to me. A total stranger.”

He barked a nervous laugh. “Well, as long as you’re not weirded out by it, or anything.”

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