Chapter 2
Lindsey
“Blah, blah, blah.”
That’s all I could hear. My psychology professor was droning on about something, but my brain couldn’t focus. All I could think about was swimming or the lack thereof. I hadn’t been in the pool in three days. Sure, that wasn’t a big deal for some, but for me, it was career ending. I had to do something quick or my hopes of making the team and winning an Olympic gold medal were going to evaporate.
Why my trainer up and left me hanging was anybody’s guess, but I wanted to kick him in the kneecaps or maybe somewhere else a bit more painful. I couldn’t do this. Sitting in a classroom was not fixing my situation. I needed a trainer—now. I checked my watch, fifteen minutes before class would be over. I got the gist of it.
I walked out, doing my best to be as sneaky as possible, but knowing I was completely failing. Nothing I could do about it. The professor can get mad, but I had bigger problems.
Tanner. His name kept popping into my head. Had he been serious when he offered to train me? I guess there’s only one way I’d ever know for sure.
I quickly slid my thumb over my contacts list and pressed his name with a picture of him on the side. God, he was hot. He looked like a surfer. Had the dirty-blond hair, the tanned skin, and the muscular body of a man who was constantly working out in the water and in the gym. I’ve always had a crush on him. What girl doesn’t? At the bar, I noticed he was checking me out, even flirting a little. While we’ve joked around in the past, he has always been like a brother to me, and I’ve never even thought about what it would be like to date him—or sleep with him.
“Hey, sexy,” he answered on the second ring.
That hot little shiver of desire washed over me the second I heard his voice, “Hey yourself.”
“You’re calling me in the middle of the day. Aren’t you supposed to be in school or something?”
“Yes, I am, kind of. Whatever. Were you serious the other night?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.
“About?”
“Training me.”
“Hell, yeah I was. I would love to get my hands on that hot little body and mold you into the Olympian I know you are,” he said.
His words were meant as a joke. I think. But my mind went somewhere else. A vision of him running his hands over my naked body popped into my head, completely distracting me from what I was supposed to be doing.
“Good, thank you. I’ll have my dad work out all the payment and stuff. I have practice tonight at four, and then, usually, I would train from six to nine. Does that work for you?”
He was silent for a few seconds. “Yep, that works. Are we training at the school?”
I thought about it briefly. “High school down the road from the college,” I blurted, giving him the address. “We can work out the details later.”
“See you tonight, beautiful.”
“Bye,” I said.
I relished the feeling that came over me. He was always using various terms of endearment when he talked to me. It was something he had always done, but now the words felt like there was a little more meaning behind them, like he really thought I was beautiful and sexy.
With a plan in place, I managed to get through my next two classes without completely spacing out. Instead of worrying about what I was going to do, I was focused on seeing Tanner. I couldn’t wait!
“Come on, Lindsey,” my swim team coach hollered.
I bit back the foul language I wanted to spew at him. The guy was not in the same league as Tanner or my previous trainer. He was a college swim team coach—not an Olympic coach.
I used my arms to pull myself up and out of the pool, standing there on the cement, water dripping off my legs, I put my hands on my hip, “I’m doing the best I can,” I seethed.
“No, you’re not,” Coach Dewey shouted. “You are better than this. You’re supposed to be heading off to the Olympics. You aren’t going anywhere if you don’t get your head in it. Now get your ass in there and do it again.”
I growled, “What was my time?”
He narrowed his gaze at me. “twenty-nine point two.”
Ouch. That was definitely not good.
“I’ll do better,” I said, stretching my arms and moving my neck around.
I was working on my fifty-meter freestyle run. If I hoped to have a chance at a medal, I had to get down to the twenty-four second range. Five seconds is a lot to shave off. I hoped Tanner could whip my ass into shape.
The hour-long practice was nothing compared to what was coming. I trained six days a week, one hour with the San Diego State team and then three hours with my trainer. We had been granted access to use the local high school’s pool, but I didn’t know if that was still possible since it had been arranged with my previous trainer.
Once practice was over, I raced home. My parents spoiled me, there was no doubt in my mind. They paid for my apartment, demanding I focus on my education and swimming. When I lived at home, my dad had put in a huge pool so I could train without leaving. It also allowed my parents to keep an eye on the trainer. There had been too many horror stories of trainers abusing the young women in their charge.
“Hi,” Tanner said, meeting me in the parking lot of the high school.
“You’re early,” I said, climbing out of my little black Mazda Miata.
“And you’re late. Rule number one, if you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late,” he said in a serious tone.
I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I will fire you. Practice went long. We’re gearing up for our meet at home against the Nevada Relays. Then the following week we go up against USC. It’s going to be a tough couple of weeks.”
He nodded. “You’ll do fine.”
“I hope so.”
He greeted me by putting his hands on my waist and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’ll let you get away with it this time, but next time, you won’t get off so easy.”
“Hmm, what will my punishment be?” I said it in a voice dripping with sexual connotation, and I knew the instant it had the desired effect.
His hands dropped from my waist, and he stepped back. “Get changed. I’ll be at the pool waiting.”
I laughed and quickly went inside to put on my suit.
When I got out to the pool, he was in trainer mode. His shirt was off. It made my heart leap and my stomach do flip flops. When had he become so fucking manly? He wasn’t that gangly teenager I remembered or the kind of cute, older college guy. He was a man in every way. I couldn’t help but stare at the defined pectoral muscles that flowed into his washboard stomach. His arms weren’t overly muscular but perfectly defined. The tattoo wrapping around his bicep practically had my mouth watering as I thought about holding that exact area while he drove into me.
“Uh, Linds?”
I looked up at him, and he was staring back at me with those green eyes that said he knew exactly where my mind had been going.
“Sorry,” I squeaked.
“Please, feel free to worship my body, but I get to do the same without you slapping me or your brother kicking my ass.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t worshiping your body. Get over yourself.” I said it with as much disdain as I could interject into my words. I doubt it worked, but I walked closer to him. “Train me.”
He eyed me up and down in my plain one-piece blue swimsuit.
“I plan to. Get in and let’s see what I’m working with here.”
I instantly felt apprehensive. Today was an off day. If I couldn’t pull better times than I had at swim practice, he would probably laugh at me for even trying to make it on the Olympic team.
He sensed my hesitation. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, sorry. Remember, I need a trainer because I need to improve, not because I’m a gold medalist—yet.”
He looked at me, cocked his head to the side and said, “I only train the best, Lindsey. I want to train you because I know you’re the best.”
The way he said it inspired me. His words gave me the confidence I needed to try. I wanted to be the best to make him proud of me.