Page 14

Chapter 14

GAbrIEL

A fter the market, I went home and worked on training plans while Chuck slept at my feet. All the sights and smells at the market must have worn him out. Occasionally, he’d distract my work with a man-like snore. He was pretty cute for a bobblehead.

When it was time for my swim, I moved slowly, not wanting to wake him. His head popped up anyway. “It’s okay, bud. You can sleep,” I tried to tell him, but Chuck followed me around the apartment while I got on my swim trunks and checked the items in my duffle. I nearly tripped over him because he stayed right under my feet.

He must have realized I was leaving because he sat back on his haunches, big eyes on me as I twisted the door handle. “I’ll be back soon.”

He gave one wag, but it looked sad. As I locked up the apartment, I had a nagging feeling in my chest that I realized was guilt. I felt bad for leaving Chuck. Billie’s skepticism over me being able to give up Chuck when the shelter had a vacancy started to solidify. I pushed away those thoughts as I started the truck. He’s just crashing with me for a while. There’s a better home out there for him .

But my thoughts didn’t quiet over the matter until I spotted a certain bike mechanic slapping the vending machine in the hallway of the natatorium.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she growled, trying and failing to shake the machine.

I stepped closer, biting back a laugh. A bag of chips lay horizontally—caught on the inner lock of the machine. Then, even more humorous, was the dangling beef jerky. It had gotten stuck on the B5 sticker.

“What are the odds?”

April whirled around. Her eyes hit my chest first, then rolled up to my face. She smiled, then forced her full lips back into a neutral line. “That God hates me? Pretty high.”

“I mean, two stuck snacks?” I let out a low whistle. “We certainly can’t rule out that possibility.”

Her gaze left mine. “It was that damn black cat,” she mumbled.

“What?” I asked.

“Never mind.” She turned back to the machine. “If I had a screwdriver, I could get them out.”

I reached around her to shake the machine, arms on either side of her, which I hadn’t thought would be a big deal. But suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about shaking a snack free. It was all too easy to picture her between my arms, enjoying a different cardio than what we’d both come to the natatorium for. The thought sent a jolt down my spine.

It was getting harder to fight off my attraction to her. Case in point, when I’d had her on my table at the clinic. At first, I wasn’t worried about losing my professionalism with her. Not until she’d made this little moan of pleasure. I started salivating instantly. My mind could be professional all it wanted, but my body didn’t know the word. From then on, the entire massage had been a battle to keep my composure .

I shook the vending machine probably a little harder than the situation warranted, trying to jostle myself out of the hold April had over me. The snacks broke free, and I stepped back to let April dig out her prizes.

“Thank you! I’m so hungry.”

I noticed a swimsuit strap poking out from the neck of her oversized shirt. “Well, can’t swim on an empty stomach.”

“Are you swimming, too?”

“I came here to swim, but now coaching sounds more fun.” Honestly, I’d have to get my laps in after, but that took the back burner.

April’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

“Fuel up, Baird. I wanna see those quicker swim times in action.” That pouty lip was out, and I’d never loved messing with someone more. Adding gasoline to the fire, I asked, “How’s the core work going?”

“Great,” she said, the tone and word not matching the way she plopped her duffle bag onto the bleachers.

“I’m glad—”

“If—” she interrupted me, “— great was a code-word for feels like what I’d imagine the seventh circle of hell to be .”

I threw my head back and laughed.

“Seriously.” She paused to chew some jerky. “Every time I get on the floor to do a plank, I feel like I’m offering a little piece of my soul to Satan.”

“Hey, whatever it takes to finish that Ironman, right?”

She snorted, folding the jerky bag closed and sticking it in her duffle. “I bet hell is just a bunch of triathletes talking about their PR.”

She had me laughing again. Until she took off her shirt.

It was a perfectly normal, expected activity. I knew she wasn’t going to swim in a T-shirt and sweats. But fuck . Her curves in that swimsuit. Speaking of making an offering to the devil. That body was doing unholy things to me.

I realized, a beat too late, that I was staring at my athlete’s breasts. I tore my eyes away, making myself busy with my phone while she continued to undress. My thumbs scrolled aimlessly over training plans. My eyes roamed over the screen, but I couldn’t tell you one thing I looked at even if I’d had a gun to my head. The afterimage of April’s curves was burning a hole behind my eyes.

I didn’t dare look up until I heard a splash. With that body safely submerged in the water, I finally approached.

Luckily, coaching at this point was something I could do on autopilot, which was enough to get her through warm-ups. Then, I gave her some drills, and I was truly captivated by the change in her form. She was no longer fighting against water but working with it. My chest swelled with pride. She’d already made so much progress.

I started my watch to time one hundred yards. She flew down the lane with strong, even pulls. Someone’s flip-flops smacked on the deck near me, but I was too enraptured by April to look. She hit the other side of the pool for her first seventy-five yards, and I pushed the lap button on my watch.

“Who is that?”

Clay’s voice made me glance over. He was watching April with interest.

It gave me great pleasure to say, “That’s Baird.”

“No, it’s not.” He laughed, then looked down at my watch. “Baird isn’t that fast.”

I wasn’t usually one for confrontation. The world was harmful enough without me adding to it, but a bit of my self-control snapped. “ Maybe she just needed some targeted workouts instead of an amount of time in the water.”

His head swiveled like an owl’s, but April had made it back to our side, ending the conversation as far as I was concerned. I stopped my watch as she popped out of the water. Eager to hear her time, she ripped off her goggles and looked up at me.

“You crushed it,” I called. “One forty-five.” Her fist pumped in celebration until she noticed Clay. Having him around for our conversation felt like having the enemy in our camp. “Go ahead and do a cooldown lap. We’ll talk after.”

I turned from Clay, ready to strip down to my swim shorts so I could get my own workout in.

“Unbelievable,” Clay said. “You put her on your roster.”

“You insisted I take her on,” I said without turning around.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it,” he spat.

“I’m confused.” I pulled off my shirt and laid it out on the bleachers. “Are you mad that she’s on my roster, or are you mad that she’s doing well?”

“I’m not mad,” he said, voice rising contradictorily. He got right up to the bleachers to put himself in my periphery. “I would just think that as a fellow coach, you would take my warning seriously. There’s a reason I dropped her.”

I’d had my hands in my swim cap, spreading them apart to put it on, but his words stole my full attention. I looked him in the eye. “And there’s a reason I picked her up.”

Clay sucked his teeth. “Whatever, man. I guess I should be thanking you. You’ve pretty much made sure the promotion is mine. The girl is a DNF risk. This will make two years in a row that she costs you A-Team.”

When he realized I wasn’t going to entertain that with a response, he stomped off, his sandals making his tantrum all the more comical, until I turned and saw a dripping April standing there. Her swim cap was off, and her hair had been finger-combed back. She was beautiful, even with goggle lines around her eyes, but she also looked upset, and I realized she’d just heard Clay call her a DNF risk.

“Hey, don’t listen to him.”

“What did he mean?” She swallowed, and water rolled down her throat. “About me costing you A-Team?”

“Nothing. He’s an asshole.”

“You are his competition? For A-Team?”

“I—” I stopped. I’d figured Clay had told her. “Yes.”

“I thought you were already on A-Team.” She put a hand on her mouth, then dropped it. “You were supposed to get on it last year, weren’t you? But then you stopped to help me.” She looked like she was about to cry.

I took a step in her direction. “It’s not your fault.”

My words looked like they bounced right off her. “And if I don’t finish this year, it could stop you from getting the promotion again?”

“I’m not worried about that because you are going to finish, April.”

She took a step backward. “You don’t know that.”

“The past few years weren’t your fault. You just had some bad luck.”

“I can’t—” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and the sight made my chest throb. “I just need a minute.” She sniffed, then pivoted, rushing to grab her bag and towel.

“April, wait—”

But she was already padding down the deck .

I sat on the bleachers, eyes on the swim cap still in my hand. I knew she’d feel better with time, but I wanted to fix the doubt and the hurt now.

I watched the water lap against the rope barrier as a swimmer in a different lane torpedoed past. The idea of swimming made me sick. If I couldn’t make my athletes feel confident in their abilities, I didn’t deserve a spot on A-Team anyway.

I thought about going back to the truck and calling it a day, but then I thought of my own coach counting on me to perform for his last year.

Feeling heavy, I pulled my swim cap on and headed for the water.