In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) (2 page)

“Don’t threaten me, Jessi. We both know you aren’t going to do that.”

“Maybe not, but I can sure as hell make life difficult for you. If I don’t play along, you’re stuck trying to make your name as a coach with a bunch of college students who are more likely to drown than win you any medals.” Jessi glared at Sawyer, who was giving back as good as he got.

With a final glare, Sawyer said, “I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”

“Fine.” Jessi turned toward the locker rooms, stood up straight and tall as if she owned the damn place, and like the gold medalist she was, strode across the pool deck, letting the doors slam behind her.

Chapter 2

Dalton McKinney squinted to look at the shadowy figure that had just stepped into his sunlight. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Great. Sawyer Jameson.

Dalton shook his head. Did God hate him? Probably. Why else would Sawyer be standing over him?

He turned his attention back to the framing wall for the house he was working on. He needed to get the boards lined up so he could erect it later today.

“Nope,” Sawyer said.

What the hell?
Sawyer had a way of reading his mind. He was most effective at it in the pool, but that didn’t mean the skills weren’t transferable to land. “Nope
what?
” he asked cautiously. He didn’t drink during the day anymore, so Sawyer couldn’t be here to give him one of his holier-than-thou pep talks about Dalton being better than “this.” Whatever “this” was.

“Nope, I won’t go away,” Sawyer replied.

“That sucks.” He looked up to find Sawyer glaring down at him. Crap. He really wasn’t leaving. Focusing back on the boards, Dalton replied, “Well, what do you want then?”

“It’s time to stop punishing yourself and come back to swimming.”

Dalton closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “As you know, due to a tree, an unfortunately placed curve, a bottle of Jack, and a seriously sweet Viper, I will never swim competitively again. Thank you, though, for bringing up such lovely memories.” Dalton went back to hammering.

A lot of things could happen to swimmers’ bodies that would still allow them to be competitive. Reconstructive surgery to repair severe muscle, joint, and bone damage to a shoulder wasn’t one of them.

“I’m not talking about swimming, and you know it.”

“I’m not coaching either.” They’d been over this before, a number of times. Sawyer had the misfortunate notion that coaching a bunch of entitled college kids into world-class athletes would somehow help Dalton let go of his past failures.

“Dalton, you need more than this, man. When you walked away from that courtroom, all you had left in life was a sweetheart plea deal and the ability to pretend you didn’t give a fuck. You’ve been faltering ever since.”

Dalton refused to acknowledge him. It wouldn’t stop the bastard, but ignoring Sawyer gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. Predictably, it didn’t work.

Sawyer went for the gold. “I need you to coach her.”

Dalton froze. By
her
, of course, Sawyer meant Jessi Pruitt, America’s kindest, sexiest little sweetheart, and the one girl in this entire world that had gotten under his rather thick skin. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I heard she made the team. Good for her, and you, and everyone else, but I’m sure as shit not coming back to coach Jessi Pruitt.”

There could be nothing worse than seeing that woman again. Most men had the “one who got away” in their pasts. In his case, he’d done his damnedest to push that girl as far the fuck away as he could, and like the smart little thing she was, she’d run screaming. Or crying, as the case had been.

God, it still embarrassed him to think about it. He couldn’t remember the woman he’d been with that night--not her name, not what she looked like, nothing. He had lost to Sawyer for the fourth time earlier that day. He had promptly started drinking, picked Jessi up as he had promised, and then left her to fend for herself while he found someone just as fucked up as he was to help him forget all the reasons he hated himself.

In a cruel twist of fate, while he couldn’t remember the bartender’s face, he could see with acuity a sweet, innocent Jessi catching him on the balcony with the woman. The look in her cornflower blue eyes had pissed him off more than the gold medals she had won. Jessi had been confused and surprised, but the thing that had set him off was the disappointment radiating from her angelic face.

Deep down, Dalton was a dick, and that disappointment had brought out the worst in him. He’d chided her for caring about him, for thinking their time together was anything more than friendship, and pretended to go back to the festivities at hand. In reality, he’d waited until she went inside, then excused himself. Jack Daniels was always better equipped to handle self-loathing than any woman could be.

He would regret everything about that night for the rest of his life, but that didn’t mean he was eager to confront the woman in question or to make amends for his transgressions. Some things were better left in the past.

“Don’t you think that it’s time you and she talked it out? You know, clear the air. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, move on.”

“No,” Dalton said forcefully. Sawyer was all about that self-actualization crap. It didn’t make him right. The last thing Dalton needed was a not-so-happy reunion. He could just imagine what an epic fail that would be.

Sawyer barked out an angry laugh. “This is ridiculous. You two seriously need to get over your shit. I’m offering you this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re worried about a three-week relationship from eight years ago. You two are unbelievable.”

“I take it she wasn’t on board either.” Dalton could just imagine Jessi’s face when Sawyer had told her the news.

“No. She wasn’t.”

“But she’ll toe the line because her hero says it’s the right thing to do?” His lips quirked at the image of the two blondies bonding over the opportunity to save his soul. God help him.

“Actually, she told me to go to hell.”

“Really?” Dalton’s eyes popped open. He couldn’t imagine the Jessi he remembered saying anything like that,
ever
.

“Her vocabulary has expanded exponentially in the last eight years,” Sawyer said dryly.

“Well, Coach, it looks like you have your answer. There are plenty of butterflyers on your team, and plenty of people to coach them. Find someone else to help Pruitt. She doesn’t want it, and neither do I.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Jesus! Give it up already.”

“Dalton, you need this, damn it!”

“Um...thank you, Dr. Phil? Seriously, Sawyer—how many times do we have to go over this? I needed out of swimming. I got out, and I don’t want to go back. I’ve messed up here and there, and then picked myself up. You should be proud of me, not lecturing me. I’m a goddamn Hallmark story.”

“God. Be serious for once, okay?”

“I am. I’m not cut out for swimming.” It wasn’t just because of Jessi. Oh, she was one of the reasons he wouldn’t go near a competitive event again, but there was more to it than an old relationship gone bad.

“Why? Because you couldn’t beat me at the Olympics? Big fucking deal, Dalton. You beat me plenty at trials. Who cares if you didn’t win a gold medal? It was years ago.”

“Says the man who wears twenty of them.”

“It’s not quite twenty—”

“Don’t be an ass.” Dalton stood and put his hands on his hips. Head hanging, he glanced up at Sawyer. “For the last time, man, I had to get out. It was killing me. I didn’t know who I was anymore.” That last Olympics had broken him. He’d trained relentlessly for three and a half years just to finally beat Sawyer at the Olympic Games. He’d crushed every record at trials, only to have Sawyer win almost all of them back.

“Come on, man, you never knew who you were. You never had the chance. Besides, you were twenty-five. Who knows who they are at twenty-five?”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but I’m a phenom.”

Goddamn it. Dalton looked away, trying not to laugh. The man could always make him laugh when he didn’t want to.

Giving up, Dalton punched Sawyer playfully in the shoulder. God, he hated the bastard...and loved him. He’d never understood exactly why, but when he’d done his damnedest to kill himself on a country road, Sawyer had shown up at the hospital. It didn’t make sense, considering they’d hated each other for most of their lives. The politics of amateur sports made them bitter enemies. But in a way, Dalton supposed, they needed each other.

At first, he’d been pissed as hell to see Golden Boy’s face next to his hospital bed. Then, as the days went by and the asshole didn’t leave, he learned to like him...and eventually love him like a brother.

Problematically, as Dalton was beginning to learn, brothers had the annoying habit of attempting to blackmail the people they loved into doing things they didn’t want to. “All right. Other than wanting to drudge up old, painful, and embarrassing memories
and
experience rejection, why are you here? You had to know I wouldn’t say yes to this thing.”

“They’re doing an expo.”

Now that got Dalton’s attention.

“What? Who?”

“The U.S. Olympics. In honor of my new position as head coach, they’re doing an expo on my career, and focusing on our rivalry.”

Dalton stayed mute. It was supremely satisfying to see Sawyer squirm, but it didn’t come anywhere near to satiating the rage that was boiling up inside him.

“Say something, damn it.” Sawyer kicked the ground with his shoe, looking just as nervous as he should.

“No.”

“Dalton. Man, come on. Just listen—”

“How much of this was their idea, and how much of it was your plan—in your obscene tendency to think you know what is best for everyone—to get me back into swimming?”

“You hate this job!”

“It’s
my
job. And my life, damn it. You don’t get to decide how I live it.”

“If we don’t do something, they are going to turn this into a hero versus villain story. They’re going to paint you in some skewed light—”

“Note: They already have.” There was venom in his voice. Dalton was a hard man. He knew that about himself. However, to say that he was edgy in regards to reporters didn’t come anywhere
near
explaining what he felt toward the media and their relentless efforts to ruin his life.

“—and it’s not true.”

Well, his rage aside... “It’s kinda true, Sawyer...”

“
No, it fucking isn’t!”

Oh, boy... Golden Boy was getting emotional. That never boded well. It was time to step in. Dalton sucked up as much anger as he could and looked Sawyer in the eye. “Sawyer, man, it isn’t your job to save me.”

“Fine. Then consider this saving me.”

“What?”

“This story is just part of it. The committee is trying to control my life. They’ve always controlled my image. I want some say in how my story is told. Yeah, you and I fought. No, we didn’t like each other. But we pushed each other. I won at the Olympics, but you won at other meets. When you weren’t swimming at a meet, I wasn’t training hard. When you swept the medals at trials, I was scared shitless. Without you, Dalton, there was no me.”

“Are you saying I complete you? ‘Cause I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of relationship yet.”

“Fuck you.” Sawyer pushed him.

Dalton laughed and gathered himself. Humor was his go-to when he was pissed. It was either that or hit something. The latter seemed to upset Sawyer more than the former. “Okay. I’ll be serious. Thank you. You were the ying to my yang too. But I really don’t see how anything you’ve just suggested could possibly justify the unparalleled disaster that would be the result of putting me and Jessi Pruitt in the same room.”

“I want to show them how you and I work together. How without one you can’t have the other. The media always wants a friend or enemy story. We’ve got something way better than that. And I need you. Jessi aside, this coaching stuff... Man, I could use you. I seriously don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, you do.” Dalton rolled his eyes. Sawyer was always taking shit way too seriously.

“I need you, man. Yeah, Jessi’s not the only flyer on the team. And yes, there are other coaches out there. But
you
are the only one good enough to coach
her.
Plus, if you don’t do this, they’re going to run your name through the mud. You’ll be the villain of U.S. Swimming for the rest of your life, and as much as you say you don’t care, I know you do. Come on, man, rewrite your story.”

Amazingly, Dalton found himself thinking about Sawyer’s stupid proposal. He knew he was taking too long though. When Dalton started thinking about things too hard, he started to wander.

“Do you take medication?” Sawyer’s words brought him out of his mind’s tangle of thoughts.

“What?”

“I’m the head of U.S. Swimming now. I’ve seen your files. So yeah, I know about the ADHD. I always assumed you were just an asshole who never cared what anybody was saying. Then the coach’s notes told me if it looks like you aren’t paying attention, it’s because you’re worrying about a question that’s popped into your head. Swimming kept you focused, but God knows you aren’t doing that anymore. So, I’ll ask again, are you taking medication?”