In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) (14 page)

“Yeah, well, it’s good to see them getting along,” Jessi replied, hiding her deviant thoughts. “They always were more alike than they were different. I’ve wondered now and then if they would have been friends, or at least cordial, if the press hadn’t played them off each other so much. No offense,” Jessi added. After all, it was Allie’s job to create media buzz and a good rivalry was one of the best ways to do that.

“Please. None taken. It’s my job. Oh, hi.” Allie looked up at their server, who had just brought two beers to the table. “Um, I think those are for someone else.”

“Nope,” the server responded. “These are courtesy of the two gentlemen over there.” The woman nodded over her shoulder.

In a vein hope that Sawyer had decided to lift the drinking ban, Jessi looked in the direction the server indicated. She deflated a bit when she saw that the two admittedly good-looking men in question were not Sawyer and Dalton.

Crap. A quick glance in that direction revealed a very stern looking Sawyer. He gave her one quick and short shake of his head, confirming that she was not going to enjoy a cold beer tonight. Jessi spared an even quicker glance at Dalton and looked away immediately. While Sawyer looked stern, he didn’t look mad. Dalton, however, most certainly did.

Jessi was dimly aware of Allie shaking off the offer.

“Will you tell them thank you, but we aren’t drinking tonight? We’re just having a girls’ night out.” Allie smiled up at the server while Jessi watched silently.

God, why did they call it that? As if women needed excuses to go out without men. Ugh. Jessi had to get it together. She was starting to freak out. She kept her eyes fixed on her napkin and took deep breaths. The look in Dalton’s eyes had made her seriously uncomfortable.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Allie asked. “Don’t worry—those guys will be just fine.”

“Oh, sorry. No, it’s not that. I just didn’t want Sawyer to see is all.” Another lame reply, but at least a little true.

Thankfully, Allie was good at making conversation and quickly got them talking about a safer topic. The moment was short-lived. The two gentlemen who’d tried to buy her and Allie drinks made their way over to their table.

“Hey, ladies. Not drinking tonight, huh?”

Seriously? Jessi might not like the saying “girls’ night out,” but it pretty much communicated “no guys.” What did they not understand?

“No, sorry. We both have busy days tomorrow and just wanted to catch up a little,” Allie replied sweetly, but directly. The woman had a talent for spinning bullshit.

“Mind if we catch up with you?” the other man said.

Jessi didn’t look up, and Allie didn’t need to be told to try and draw attention away from her. They’d made it in here without being recognized, but this was an Olympic year and her face was everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized her. With the two men walking up but not sitting down, the people around them were starting to look.

This would not make good press, no matter how innocent the truth of the situation really was. The story would be spun to make it look like the country’s best shot for Olympic gold had been seen outside the facility, trolling for men in a sports bar. When she’d started swimming, a story like that could have been kept under wraps or controlled via good PR people like Allie. Now, everyone had a cell phone, and it didn’t matter what was actually happening. All that mattered was how it looked on Twitter.

“Sorry, guys, it’s just the two of us. Thanks though, we appreciate it.”

“You okay there, sweetie?” Patently ignoring Allie, one of the condescending dickheads reached out a hand and tilted Jessi’s face up.

That was too much. She started to admonish him for touching her when she saw recognition in his eyes.
Crap, crap, crap
!

“Hey, aren’t you...”

“I am.” Jessi took the bull by the horns. It was the only way she knew. Beating around the bush with this was only going to make things worse. “I really appreciate you guys offering us a drink, but obviously I can’t drink right now, and I need to be getting—”

She didn’t get to finish. All of a sudden, Dalton was at their table, looking pissed off and ready to fight.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jessi muttered to herself. It was just a little flirtation. Sure, she didn’t like being touched, but she had this under control.

To her surprise, however, despite his death glare, Dalton kept his voice calm and addressed the man who had touched her. “Hey, guys. Look, this one can’t drink, and it looks like they both told you they weren’t interested. You need to leave them alone.”

“Who the hell are you? Her daddy?”

Okay, whoever decided that
women
were drama queens clearly hadn’t experienced man drama.

“Nope. I’m her coach.” Dalton stared at both of them. The look on his face was designed to let arrogant, self-entitled swimmers know that the conversation was over. Apparently, these men didn’t swim, because it didn’t work.

“Well,
Coach
. She can tell us to go if she wants us to go.”

“Dalton, people are starting to look,” Allie warned in a low voice.

“Yep,” Dalton agreed after a quick look around. “Time to go. Come on, Jessi.”

Dalton started to reach for her, putting himself between her and the two men. He was careful to allow her to get out of the seat without the whole bar getting a good look at her. She could see Sawyer coming up behind them from the men’s restroom. He had obviously gotten the gist of things, and Jessi knew he’d come up on the other side of her. The need for media control didn’t happen often, but they all knew the drill, just in case.

Thankfully, the hostess had given them shitty seating, so they were right by the door. Jessi hesitated just a little in order to give Sawyer some time to get to the table. It was a moment too long. Dickhead Number One had taken out his phone and was getting ready to take a picture.

“Smile, cutie. I’m going to post this everywhere! This is so awesome: ‘Flirting with America’s Sweetheart in a bar!’ That’s the status!” The jerk nodded his head and smiled at Dickhead Number Two. He really seemed to think that was funny.

Jessi was pretty sure the idiot wasn’t trying to be malicious. He was just trying to get a little bit of fame. The fact was, in today’s day and age, if you were even remotely famous, you were everybody’s and anybody’s. The idea of privacy meant nothing.

Dalton grabbed the guy’s wrist and squeezed. “Don’t be an asshole. Just leave it and let her go. She’s earned a night out to herself.” His voice was calm, but his outward appearance was anything but. He looked scary.

The guy and his friend definitely noticed, and in the timeless tradition of assholes everywhere, puffed up.

Dalton looked like he was getting ready to show them just what good shape bad-boy ex-swimmers stayed in when a voice of reason settled over the situation.

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s settle down, boys.”

Thank God—it was Sawyer.

“Jessi, why don’t you take a picture with these guys and sign an autograph? Guys, I’m her head coach, and I gave her a night out. Would you mind if we just left it at that?”

For whatever reason, the men relaxed and gave in. Jessi mentally shook her head. Sometimes she thought Sawyer might be a vampire, given his ability to get people to do what he wanted.

She sighed and moved to insert herself between the two men. Dalton looked ready to kill someone but had physically relaxed. Sawyer took the phone and gave it to Dalton, who in return, gave Sawyer an “are you fucking with me?” look. Sawyer gave him a hard stare and inserted himself in the picture. The plan, no doubt, was to turn this into an innocent PR moment. Coach and swimmer smiling for the locals.

As if on cue, Allie had gotten up herself and aimed her own phone. She sweetly chirped, “Smile!” She clicked a button, and a flash went off.

As soon as she had the shot, she went straight to tapping on her phone. Jessi would bet money she was uploading the picture to the team’s Twitter and Facebook accounts. She was doing what she did best and getting a head start on spinning this thing into a positive story.

The bar’s other patrons caught on quickly. Jessi took pictures with a few more people before Sawyer put an amiable stop to things. He discreetly passed her over to Dalton and whispered something in his ear before he let go of her arm.

Normally, Jessi would be offended by all the manhandling. She could take care of herself, damn it. But right now, things were getting crowded, and some people had been here drinking for hours.

While Sawyer and Allie handled the crowd, Dalton slipped her out the door. It had started to rain, forcing them to run to his car.

“Motherfucker.” He slammed the door and started the engine.

“How is Sawyer going to get home? I assume you guys came together.” Jessi was a little shell-shocked from how quickly events had unfolded.

“Allie’s going to take him back to the facility.” His answer was short and clipped.

What the hell? Why was he mad at her? “Are you upset?” Jessi asked.

“Yes. Yes, Jessi. I’m fucking pissed.”

“Why? What did I do?”

Dalton gave her an incredulous look. “I’m not pissed at
you
, damn it. I’m pissed at that asshole who touched you. You’d told him fucking no. I saw it. He deserves to be lying on the floor right now with a broken nose. He’d better give Sawyer Jameson a big ol’ fuckin’ thank you, because he’s the only reason that guy is still standing.”

Jessi stayed quiet. There was really nothing much to say, but inside, her heart was fluttering. He had been willing to fight over her? Okay, she was a modern woman, but...that was seriously freakin’ hot.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” Dalton spit out.

“For sticking up for me. For taking care of me.”

Dalton snorted. “Shit, Jessi. I almost created a huge scene in there. Your image would have taken a serious blow if I’d hit that guy. You shouldn’t be thanking me. You should be mad as hell at me.”

“Yeah, probably, but you didn’t, and I’m not.” She took a deep breath and reached out her hand to calm him and to get his attention. She really wanted him to understand her gratitude. But with fists in a death grip on the wheel, her only option was his thigh. She touched him there, enjoying the feel of the strong, long swimmers’ muscles that flexed in response to her caress. “You do take care of me. You know that, right?”

Dalton looked down at her hand, then at her. He turned his head back to the road. “Jessi, you need to stop touching me.”

She could have been hurt, and probably would have been, but she saw the look in his eyes when he’d stared at her. She recognized the strain on his face for what it was and calmly squeezed his thigh. “I know. I just wanted you to know that.” She let go.

Despite his words, Dalton trapped her hand. “Jessi, this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want you to be hurt, and I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m really not good for you. You’re probably not good for me either.”

That cut through her, and she pulled away. When had
she
ever not been good for someone? She looked down at her now folded hands. Her chest hurt, and her eyes stung. She was the girl men took home to meet their parents. She was
always
good enough...except when it came to Dalton. There she had never measured up.

Damn it. She was going to cry. She held her breath and tried to hold it together. It wasn’t working. She quickly scrunched her eyes closed in an attempt to keep the tears in. One misbehaving droplet escaped and fell onto her leg.

“Shit. Jessi, please don’t cry. Why are you crying?” Dalton pulled the car into a parking lot and turned to look at her.

“I don’t know. I think it’s just the stress and what went on back there. It’s just a lot. You think you’re ready for things like that, but you never really are, you know?”

Dalton wasn’t precisely sure what Jessi was talking about. She was probably talking about more than one thing. He took a closer look at her, trying to figure out what was going on in that smart, funny head of hers. His heart broke.

Jessi was always positive. She was always on top of things. She was
always
smiling. Right now, she looked small. She was curled into herself and looking down into her lap. In that moment, he didn’t care what it cost him. He needed to touch her. He reached an arm over and took a curl into his hand to stroke it. It was soft, and yellow, and perfect.