Finish Line: A Playing Hard Novella Page 3

  He gave me the coach you should know better look. I’d never seen it on him, but Coach Simmons always used it when I didn’t fuel myself well enough or stayed up too late the night before.

  “We’ll go eat first then.”

  He knew I wouldn’t want to eat at the hotel. “I need to checkout first.”

  “I’ll get you a late checkout.”

  I stared at him. “Why would I want to linger at the hotel and run into people who may have heard what happened?”

  “Because you need to eat first,” he said simply. I was too emotionally drained to argue with him.

  He turned off the main road and stayed away from the hotel, driving to an area where it was unlikely we’d run into another athlete or official either one of us knew. At a small strip mall, he pulled into a little Mexican eatery that was already open.

  The tinkling of dishes and the savory and spicy smells were the shot of normal life I needed to settle down. After we got a table, Lincoln excused himself to call the hotel.

  Why the hell was I here with him?

  Why did he want to come, anyway? It wasn’t like I was going to be good company. We should hate each other. I should at least hate him.

  So why had I agreed to let him drive me to the hotel, and then divert us here. It meant even more time alone with him. And I liked the sound of that way too much.

  He returned and slid into the chair across from me. “You don’t have to be out until three.”

  “Thank you.” I ran through the cheapest items on the menu. I rationed my money for the trip. The days were nice, and if I found a hotel close enough to restaurants, then I could organize my site-seeing based on how close everything was to each other.

  I ordered a plate of appetizer nachos. Lincoln eyed me over his menu. “Order whatever you want, Nellie.”

  He kept calling me Nellie instead of Pelton. I liked that a lot too. Had I ever thought I’d be on a first-name basis with Coach Keating?

  “Nachos are fine.”

  “It’s my treat.”

  I met his gaze. He did cost me eight grand. So, I ordered some burritos smothered in gravy and a couple of churros for dessert since I missed breakfast.

  There was a hint of a smile when he ordered.

  “How’s Aria today?”

  He raised his brows like he was surprised I wasn’t spewing vitriol over her name. “She’s all right. Yesterday bothered her too.”

  “Either way, she was going to worlds.”

  He inclined his head but didn’t say more. There was a tidy gap between second place and national champion, much of it mental. Going to worlds as the national champion would help her do well. Which he knew. I changed the subject. “Did you always want to coach?”

  “It seemed like a natural transition.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  He pressed his lips together. The man wasn’t used to being challenged. “Isn’t that what we pro athletes do when we can’t compete at the top anymore? Turn to coaching?”

  I shuddered. “It’s not what I’m going to do.”

  “Why not?”

  I sat forward. The two-seater table they sat us at was small enough to be considered romantic. Leaning forward brought me terribly close to him. “If it was just coaching maybe, bringing someone up to meet their full potential. But we both know it isn’t. It’s agents, negotiations, sponsors, pressure, expectations, stress.”

  “You had that with running.”

  That was true. “What would you have done if it wasn’t for coaching?”

  “I went to school for athletic training. I’d probably be in that field. You?”

  “What do you mean?” He’d know my background and that I was an NCAA division champion twice when I ran for Oregon State. He could probably recite my PR in both the 1500 and 5000. It’s not like he knew what I went to school for.

  “You have a degree in business management, correct? If you didn’t go pro, where do you think you would be now?”

  “You know what I majored in?”

  “I read everyone’s bios. You’re from Williamsport, Indiana, and went to Oregon State on scholarship and majored in business management.”

  Yep, that was me. Did he remember all the bios he read? The cold starkness from the morning wore off as his attention sparked a glow inside me. I was reading too much into it. He felt guilty. That was it. “I don’t know. Business something. Running was all I knew though.”

  “So. you intended to go pro?”

  “Sure.” I took a sip of my water. My nerves were going wild. Between him and the intensity he radiated with me as a focal point, and his questions about my life choices, I was going to run back to the hotel and miss my meal.

  He must’ve sensed that I was done with the topic I’d brought up. His gaze flicked out the window, then back to me, then back out the window. I waited for him to ask some other questions, but I doubted he knew any other topics besides running, and he was smart enough to sense that was territory I didn’t want to jog around.

  “You’ve lived in Colorado for a while. Have you been to Colorado Springs much?”

  “More times than I can count.”

  Sweet relief. “Good. Tell me what I need to see between today and Friday.”

  Why had I thought it’d be better to listen to his deep rumble and see the way his expression came alive while he talked about places he’d visited years ago? I watched him, replying only enough to prompt him to talk more.

  Our food arrived, and I hated that it quieted him down. I wanted to hear more about rafting and hiking and canoeing and fishing and— Lincoln was an outdoorsy guy. Did he ever get beyond the track anymore?

  He should. Too bad I wouldn’t be around him to see it.

  Chapter 4

  Our meal was over, and it was…pleasant. My belly was full and satisfied, and I was tucked into the front seat, gazing out the window at the gorgeous summer day. I thought about the competition. How’d all my friends do? I’d shut my phone off after calling my parents.

  He circled around a large park getting out of the neighborhood the restaurant was in. Colorful play equipment was situated under tall trees where they’d get shade on the hottest days. Around it was vibrant green grass that contrasted with the clear blue sky. It was like a massage for the eyes.

  I scanned the empty play equipment. “I haven’t been on a swing in forever.”

  Lincoln’s gaze shifted to the park. Then he was turning into it. I sat up. I hadn’t said I wanted to stop here.

  He parked and looked at me. “It’s your vacation. Let’s swing.”

  I stared at him. “Lincoln Keating on a swing?”

  His mouth quirked. “Nellie Pelton on a swing?”

  My competitive edge woke up. “Watch me.”

  I raced out and snatched the one that was in the shade. We must look ridiculous. Two grown people, one wearing business casual and the other in his athletic gear. My ass just hit the seat as he caught up. My heart stuttered.

  He was laughing.

  “Don’t swing until you lose your lunch, Pelton.” He kicked himself into a solid start.

  “I can handle it. Can you?” I pumped my legs. I had to get higher than him now.

  Every pass, he was looking at me, challenge in his eyes. I grinned, my own laugh ringing across the lawn.

  We swung, doing stuff I hadn’t done since I was a kid, like lying all the way back, or rocking until I swung in a squiggle.

  “Ever do this?” Lincoln asked before he launched himself off at the highest point. He stuck the landing in the wood chips like he jumped off swings every day.

  I did the same, only my landing wasn’t as solid. I whooped and pinwheeled my arms, but I was caught in a strong grip and steadied against a solid chest.

  He loosened his hold enough for me to turn around. I gazed up at him. We landed just out of the shade. The sun hit the top of his head, giving his hair a brassy shine. His dark eyes bored into mine, and his head dipped. I lifted my chin, unsure if he planned to kiss me or if he was just checking to see if I was okay.

  My gaze dropped to his mouth, then lifted to his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, so low that I barely heard him.

  I didn’t want to nod and break the trance. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he murmured and lowered his head.

  Children’s laughter rang out, and we both blinked and looked for the source. Three kids were riding their bikes in the direction of the park.

  He cleared his throat and stepped back, reluctant, as if he didn’t want to let me go.

  Had we really been about to kiss?

  Where was my animosity? Where was my give a shit? Why couldn’t those kids have waited one more minute?

  We started back for the car. The closer we got, the heavier my steps grew. It took me a few seconds to figure out what was bothering me. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

  He squinted up and down the road and hit the unlock button on his fob. “Then we won’t.”

  “Can we take a walk? It’s so nice out.”

  And that was what we did. We walked all over the neighborhood. Past houses that looked like the ones I grew up in. Yards full of kids playing. A guy washing his car. I even spotted laundry hung out to dry.

  No matter where we went, it hammered home how empty my life had become. Packing had been a chore, but it’d been dishes and college textbooks. I didn’t have a garage full of memories. Or an attic with holiday decorations. I didn’t even have a shelf of knickknacks. I had race trophies and ribbons, and I was proud of those and cherished those memories. But that was all I had.

  As we strolled, we walked side by side, pointing out whatever we found interesting. Only when he gestured to a Jeep full of mud, he leaned down. I wa
nted to arch into him like a cat. Which I practically did when I spotted a nest in a tree in the boulevard. Our arms swung loosely at our sides, the backs of our hands brushing together. How could a feather-light touch blaze through my body like runway lights flicking on one by one?

  I couldn’t stand it. Going into vacation with a hopeless crush? No. Lincoln Keating was suffering waiting to happen. I’d go penny-pinch my way through Colorado Springs, and he’d go back to Victa and get to work, his guilt mollified.

  “I should get back and pack. I still have to find a place.”

  He only nodded, and we sped up our pace to get back to his car.

  All the way to the hotel, I let my head rest on the seat and stared out the window. Being cocooned in his scent inside the car and having his heat mingling with it next to me was sensory overload. An entire week all by myself didn’t seem so exciting now.

  Lincoln parked at the hotel entrance like he owned the place. When he got out, he said a few words to the concierge, and the concierge nodded.

  By the time I got out, he was by my side. “What’s your room number?” he murmured in my ear.

  Shivers cascaded down my spine, but didn’t erase my question? “Why?”

  “You don’t have a car. I’ll help carry your stuff and give you a ride.”

  My mouth hung open like a hooked fish. I came back to get away from him precisely because I wanted to be so close to him. And he was offering to stick around longer, foiling my plan and teasing my heart. But…I did need a ride. The less I had to spend on taxis or Ubers, the more I could use for fun.

  “Two-oh-three,” I finally answered.

  In the elevator, I sagged against the wall as he punched the button for the third floor. I dug my key out, not believing that I was going to my room to pack—with Lincoln. Was he really that guilty? Had I imagined our connection? Did I even want a connection?

  Clarity came as soon as he opened the door, and my gaze hit my nightshirt and underwear scattered on the bed. Athletic shoes littered the floor. Really, the only things not littering the floor and surfaces were the black leggings, peasant blouse, and flats I was wearing.

  I rushed in and started yanking up items and tossing them into my open suitcase. “I’d go on about how I’m not usually like this, but I’m a slob.” Stopping, I glanced at him and the bemusement seeping into his otherwise concerned eyes. “Let me guess. You’re meticulous.”

  “Why would you say that?” He stooped to grab my shoes and started packing them in the duffel next to my suitcase. The bag would fit inside, but I didn’t want stinky shoe smell on my clothing. He seemed to guess that, but then he knew all the habits and quirks of athletes like me.

  “A wound-up guy like you? I bet your shirts are terrified to wrinkle. Instead of steaming your pants, you probably just glare at them.”

  He straightened and blinked at me. Then he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the most charming way and his broad shoulders shaking. I almost choked. And I thought his intensity was sexy. When he laughed, he was devastating.

  When his laughter died, his brows knit together. “What?”

  I was staring. “I’ve seen you laugh twice now. I’m impressed, Coach. I didn’t think you had it in you, but you really dug deep and pulled it off.”

  He scowled, but it was playful. “Haha, Pelton.”

  I grinned and continued gathering my things.

  He glanced from me to my luggage. “I haven’t taken a vacation in years.”

  I tossed in a pink sports bra, then black shorts. “You should. Get something for your shelves besides your trophies.”

  “How do you know that’s all that’s on my shelves?”

  I rolled my eyes toward him, and he shrugged. Busted.

  Zipping into the bathroom, I grabbed my toiletries and zoomed back out, smacking into his chest. I looked up, right into his hooded eyes. He’d gripped my arms to catch me, and we were standing just like we’d been at the playground, except I had an armful of deodorant and Astroglide I couldn’t bother to be embarrassed by. Some clothing chafed worse than others.

  “Pelton,” he said in that low voice that mesmerized me. “Are you always this clumsy off the track?”

  “It’s you,” I breathed, and his pupils expanded.

  This time, there were no kids to interrupt us. My lips parted. When his landed on mine, a full-body jolt went through me. Was every part of him hot? And soft, but firm. He didn’t push me on the kiss but made damn sure I knew it was his lips on mine.

  I wanted to twine my arms around his neck and press my body against his. I wanted to feel him, all of him. Then it hit me. I was kissing Coach Keating. The talk of the women’s locker rooms. The man who melted Lycra with a look. The man who took me in his arms at one of my lowest moments.

  I opened for him, and he tilted his head. One hand was wrapped around my waist, and the other was twisted in my hair, like he liked it hanging down as much as I did.

  Time lost meaning. I’d never been kissed like this. Like he couldn’t get enough. Like he’d wanted to do this since we made eye contact in my first post-collegiate race. As much as I’d known who he was, I also knew how off-limits he was. And how formidable he would be in regards to my own career. My crush stayed just that. A stark appreciation of how good-looking he was with a deep respect for how ferociously he fought for his athletes.

  While yesterday had diminished that aspect, I was able to separate the coach from the man kissing me. At this moment, the two seemed nothing alike.

  When his tongue swept into my mouth, my knees trembled. If I thought that leaving him after a walk in the park was bad, this kiss would make it seem as empty as the track in the dead of winter.

  Pulling back, I shook my head. “This is crazy.”

  “Is it?”

  “After yesterday, yes.”

  His lips thinned, and he looked away. “I like you, Nellie. I always have.”

  “Well, there’s fuck all we can do about it now.” He’d always liked me liked me? Like some unrequited love over rubberized asphalt? “You have a job, and I have a vacation. One that I need to start.”

  He let me go. “Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

  I did a quick search and found a cheap room by Manitou Springs. It helped take my mind off the unfairness of the entire weekend. Yesterday sucked. Today was a giant cherry on top of a suck sundae.

  Lincoln helped load my bags and drove me there. I jogged inside and rented a room for the week.

  By the time I was done, he had my bags. “Lead the way.”

  The room was clean and normal. Not as plush as the one I’d checked out of, but I wasn’t going to spend my days here. As Lincoln set my bags down, I adjusted the AC.

  When I turned around, he was standing at the end of the bed, watching me, an unreadable look in his eye.

  “Let me go on vacation with you.”

  I tilted my head like I’d gotten water in my ear and it distorted his words. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not ready to end this thing between us.”

  “But…your job. The race…” Vacation? With me?

  He closed the distance between us. He had to. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place even as the AC clicked off. “I want to continue spending time with you, and I’ll make it work if you’ll have me.”

  “But…” That seemed to be my favorite word. “That’s another week of hotel rooms. Victa isn’t going to pay for you staying here.”

  There was that unreadable expression again, the one that came before his astounding proposition. “I can stay in here. With you.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  He brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek in a move so gentle I didn’t expect it from such a hard man. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and I’ll pay for the room.”

  Oh. My burgeoning hope disintegrated into a pile of ash. “It’s the guilt. Look—”

  He planted a firm kiss on my mouth, more than enough to get me to shut up. “It’s not guilt. It’s my inappropriate fascination with a competing athlete that runs with the grace of a ballerina and the ferociousness of a bullfighter. If you just want to sightsee with me, that’s what we’ll do. If you want more”—he edged closer—“I’ll give you more.”

  My eyes flared. More.

  Inappropriate fascination? With me? I studied him. He’d never looked so serious.