Pu$ Magnet

by Tessa Layne

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Just a little nervous, that’s all.”

  I slide a hand up her thigh as I pull into valet parking. “Nothing to be nervous about. Just be you. Talk about how rowing changed your life. These guys love a good story.”

  The guy running valet recognizes Sparky. “Hey Mariah, didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Slummin’ it, huh?” he says with a laugh as he takes my keys.

  She laughs with him, but the laugh never makes it to her eyes. Instead, she shoots me a worried glance. She blanches when the elevator opens on the top floor and the first person we see is Stockton. “Don’t worry,” I growl, as I lock eyes with my business partner, then notice Penny, his genius hacker assistant on his arm. “Stockton’s not going to breathe a word to the team.”

  “Why is that?”

  Stockton glances at Mariah, then scowls at me. I tilt my head toward Penny, and raise an eyebrow. For half a second, we glower at each other, then reach a silent agreement. I take Sparky by the elbow and lead her directly to where Stockton and Penny are standing. “Stockton, Penny,” I say.

  “Sparky,” acknowledges Stockton. “This is Penny, my… ah…”

  “Colleague,” I supply.

  Sparky extends her hand. “So nice to meet you. I row with these guys.”

  Penny nods and opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by the booming voice of Big Jim Williams, owner of the pro-football team. “Well if it ain’t my two favorite rivals,” he booms. “And who are these pretty ladies you gents have brought along?” His fleshy lips pull into a lascivious grin. My blood curdles. Slimy Jim is more like it. How he didn’t get caught up in the human trafficking bust that took place last fall is beyond me. I’m sure the guy is dirty. I wrap a possessive arm around Sparky. Stockton does the same.

  “Nice to see you Jim.” There’s no warmth in my voice.

  “I thought you two’d be down at Spring Training.”

  “It’s Owen’s turn, this year,” answers Stockton. “And with Penny here, running predictive analytics, there’s no need for all of us to be in Arizona.”

  Big Jim shakes his head. “All that technology. Don’t make up for what your eyes tell you. And speaking of eyes,” he turns his gaze to Sparky. “You’re a cute young thing. You should come dance with my girls. We could use some flavor like you to spice up the dancers, if you catch my drift.” His eyes rake over her figure.

  Sparky stiffens, jaw set. My hand curls into a fist as red flashes at the sides of my vision. What I wouldn’t give to break this asshole’s nose. But as big as I am, Big Jim is my height and twice as wide. Regardless, if we weren’t at a fundraiser, I’d fucking take my shot. “I already have a job,” Sparky says stiffly.

  “Still,” Jim persists, leaning in and breathing like a freight train. “Girls like you can do well.”

  “And what exactly is a girl like me?” she asks sharply.

  Pride for her swells inside me. I fucking love her grit.

  “Well, ah… you know,” he huffs. “We got lots of fans who like those Spanish señoritas,” he says.

  Sparky goes in for the kill. “How very nice. But you see, I’m not a girl. And my ancestors have been here, in America since the fifteen-hundreds. Furthermore, you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to join an organization like yours. Your team culture embodies the worst of the sports industry, and with all due respect, culture starts at the top.”

  Penny sucks in a breath. I glance over at Stockton who looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Big Jim sputters, face growing mottled. He glowers at Sparky, then swings his gaze to us. “You—”

  Stockton beats me to it. “Might be time to rethink your business model, Jim.”

  I step closer, and lower my voice so only he can hear. “You ever talk to my girlfriend like that again, I will be waiting for you in a dark alley. Do we have an understanding?”

  Jim glares, opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. I can only imagine the vitriol spewing in his head right now. Just so long as it doesn’t come out of his mouth. I turn back to Sparky. “Let’s grab a drink at the bar.” She’s visibly shaken, and it kills me. I signal the bartender. “Two Jameson, neat.”

  “Drink,” I say, handing her a tumbler. “Jim’s a first-rate asshole. I’m really sorry.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean just that. No one’s ever, not in a million years, going to treat you the way I was just treated.” She downs her whiskey in one long gulp, slamming the glass on the counter. “Do you know what it’s like to have people look at you with suspicion? Like you don’t belong? Follow you through a drug store when you’re shopping for toothpaste?” She grabs my drink and downs it, too. “And you know what’s the worst? Is that the richer people are, the more insidious their barbs. They pretend to be all enlightened, but really, they’re just as racist as the poor guy down the street.”

  “Hon, I’m so sorry. Not everyone’s an asshole like Jim.”

  She swings a tortured gaze my direction. “How do you know? I don’t want to walk on eggshells bracing for the next awkward encounter from some donor you have to be nice to.”

  “You won’t have to, Mariah. Look at our organization. Has anyone ever even given you the side-eye? Treated you with less than utter respect?”

  She shakes her head. “But how can you understand what it’s like? People automatically respect you.”

  “I can’t. You’re right, I’ve never walked in your shoes, but I can sure as hell make sure that shit doesn’t happen again.”

  She gives me a sad smile and shakes her head. “You can’t. You can’t be there to protect me all the time. And I don’t want you to.” She looks like she wants to say more, lots more. “I’m… gonna go home.”

  “Mariah—”

  She places a finger across my lips. “Let me go, Harrison.”

  Panic races through me. It feels like she’s slipping away. “Don’t go, please.”

  She stands on tiptoe, placing a kiss on my jaw. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

  And because I don’t want to make a scene, I let her walk away.

  Fucking hell.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I dread practice the next morning. By the time I’ve reached the reservoir, I’ve already sweated through my base layer. Sparky is the first one there, as usual, and except for the way she avoids my gaze, it’s business as usual. In fact, we have our best split yet. In the boat, she’s the consummate pro. Meeting my eyes dead on, and calling the strokes. We work seamlessly together, and it’s weird, because my chest has never ached so profoundly.

  After we stash the shell, Fitz gathers us around. “You’ve come a long way. Especially you, Danny. I think we’re going to be in great shape for the season opener.”

  Sparky clears her throat. “I have something I’d like to say.” The way she looks at me sends ice through my veins. “This is the best boat I’ve ever been a part of, and Fitz is right, I think you’re going to kill it in London.”

  I glance over to Stockton. She didn’t say we.

  Her voice catches. “And I want you to remember that, because I’m not going to be with you.”

  Everyone starts talking at once.

  “Hold up,” she shouts over us. “It’s not because I don’t want to. I’ll be there rooting for you, from the National Team selection camp. I have a shot at a spot on the Olympic boat.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

  I’m the first to yell, and I sweep her up in an embrace swinging her around. The rest of the guys join me in their congratulations. It’s great news, what she’s always wanted. I kiss her on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Sparks.” I mean it too. I want her to chase this. I swallow back the selfish disappointment, because this is it. Our fling has run its course, and even though I’ve fallen hook, line, and sinker, it’s not meant to be. It feels like the disbanding of the Fellowship of the Ring. “When did you find out?”
I ask once the accolades have died down.

  She flashes me a guilty glance. “Two days ago.” And she didn’t tell me. My stomach sinks to my toes. And her decision to go was made so much easier thanks to last night. She lays a hand on my arm. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “But you didn’t,” I answer tonelessly.

  “I’d planned to tell you last night, but—”

  “Big Jim happened,” I fill in.

  She nods, eyes full of sympathy.

  “I don’t want your sympathy, Sparks. I thought I meant more to you than that,” I snap, not caring that I’ve just outed us to the whole team.

  “You do. You mean everything to me. You know that.”

  “Do I? Then why not trust me enough to tell me?”

  “Because for a hot second, I thought I might not take the spot,” she snaps back.

  “Well that’s dumb. Of course you’d take the spot.”

  “And maybe I needed to work that out for myself before I told anyone,” she shouts. “Like I said, I don’t need a fucking fixer.”

  “I thought I was your partner,” I yell back. “For chrissakes, Sparky. I’m in love with you. What more do you want? Just because I want you to be safe doesn’t mean I want to control you.”

  “And just because I said I loved you too doesn’t mean I want to be treated like a china doll.”

  I’m so pissed I could throttle her. Or kiss her. Definitely kiss her. She’s sexy as fuck when she’s riled up. But there won’t be kissing and making up this time, because my teammates look like they want to make mincemeat of me.

  “What the fuck is this?” Owen asks, waving a hand between the two of us.

  “Yeah.” Mac crosses his arms. “What the fuck?”

  I step forward. “We fell in love, okay?” I glower at my teammates. “Anyone has a problem with that, they can see me in private.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I’m three drinks deep at our new watering hole in the West Bottoms. Stockton claps me on the back. “Well, I’d say you’ve made a royal mess of things.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I grumble. “I keep playing everything over in my head, and I can’t figure out what happened.”

  “You’re used to being in charge. So is she.”

  “You are a sonofabitch for tapping our cox. She was always off-limits,” Owen reminds me.

  “Yeah, but you could see the wheels turning last year in London,” adds Stockton. “Something happened between you two over there.”

  I shrug. I won’t ever spill how drunk Sparky was, or that she made a pass at me, or anything about our wager. Some things are best kept private. Even amongst bros.

  “I guess it was inevitable, all that staring into each other’s eyes,” Owen chortles.

  I give Owen the finger.

  “I guess the question is,” Stockton starts. “What are you going to do about it now?”

  “Let her go. I’m not going to be that guy.”

  “But you also don’t have to be that asshole either,” Stockton adds. “You can let her go without being a dick.”

  “I don’t know,” says Owen. “I think he’s done a pretty good job of dicking it up.”

  “If she gets a spot, she’ll be gone for good.”

  “But it’s not like you can’t do long distance,” points out Stockton. “If you wanted. We travel all the fucking time.”

  True. “But I think there’s more at play than just the Olympic spot.” I look over to Stockton. “You saw what happened last night at the sports fundraiser.”

  Stockton glowers. “Jim is a douchebag who should probably be thrown in jail.”

  “Still. Sparky was super clear about how different our worlds are.”

  He shrugs. “Are you going to let that stop you? You’ve never let it stop you before.”

  Also true.

  Owen clears his throat. “Far be it from me to give you advice, because I’m flying solo forever, but when you look back in five years, what are you going to regret?”

  Stockton nods his agreement. “I’ve never heard you tell any woman you love her. If you really love her, then go figure this out.”

  “Sparky,” I call softly, rapping on her door. “Answer the door?” I rap again.

  The door opens a crack. “Have you been drinking?”

  “I Ubered.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  I spread my hands. “Got lucky. Can I come in?”

  The door opens a little wider, but she still blocks it.

  “I promise, no funny business. Unless you want,” I add.

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. But she opens the door and lets me pass. She follows me into the living room and perches at the far end of the couch. She looks so tiny and vulnerable, not the strong fierce woman I’ve grown to love. “I’m sorry. I behaved badly today.”

  She surprises me by nodding. “I am, too. I was an asshole. I should have told you. I was afraid.”

  “I think you getting a shot is the greatest thing ever, Sparks. And I’d never let you not go,” I add, thinking back to our conversation. “We could do the long distance thing… if you wanted.”

  “We kind of do it anyways, with your travel schedule,” she admits. “But I need my independence. I’m not ready to move in with you.”

  It stings, but I accept it with a nod. “The offer stands, whenever you’re ready.”

  “Does the team hate us?”

  “Surprisingly, no.”

  A look of pure relief crosses her face.

  “Mariah, come here.” I pat the space next to me. She does one better and crawls into my lap. “I’m all in. Wherever the chips fall. I’m your guy, and I’ll always have your back. And if you’ll let me, I’ll even beat assholes like Big Jim to a pulp.”

  She makes a face and a noise of disgust. “Don’t waste your energy. He’s not worth it. But don’t be surprised if that kind of shit happens again. Not everyone is as nice as the guys in the boat.”

  “I get it. And I won’t fight your battles for you, but maybe you’ll let me fight next to you?”

  She sighs, and lays her head on my chest. “I’d like that.”

  “You know what else I’d like?” I say, because I’m only a little buzzed, and I’m still a dirty dog perv. And hell, I have a gorgeous woman in my lap.

  “I can feel it,” she says dryly, even as she wriggles against my quickly growing erection.

  I scoop her up and head for the bedroom. “Feel like a little make-up sex?”

  Her hands loop around my neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  From the texts of Mariah Sanchez and her sister

  Cecilia: GOOD LUCK!!!! fingers crossed emoji, fingers crossed emoji, confetti emoji.

  Cecilia: We’re rooting for you.

  Mariah: Thx!!

  Cecilia: How are you feeling?

  Mariah: The good kind of nervous. The gals in the boat are great. Really synced up.

  Cecilia: Harry and the guys are with me.

  Mariah: THE WHOLE TEAM?!?!?!

  Cecilia: Surprise! Big smiley face emoji.

  Cecilia: It was Harry’s idea.

  Mariah: His name is Harrison. Just call him Steele.

  Cecilia: Hey babe, it’s me- Super Steele ;) Your sis can call me Harry. But she’s the only one.

  Mariah: She let you steal her phone? She doesn’t even let me steal her phone.

  Cecilia: I’m that fantastic. :D

  Mariah: Glad to see your ego hasn’t taken a hit ;)

  Cecilia: Seriously babe, you’re going to crush it out there today. Love you.

  Mariah: Thx. And thanks for bringing the team. I have a little tear in my eye.

  Mariah: Love you too! xoxo

  Cecilia: So does that mean you’ll move in with me?

  Mariah: Nope ;) Can I talk to my sis again?

  Cecilia: Sure thing. I’ll be yelling loudest for you xo

  Cecilia: Me again :D You should move in w
ith him.

  Mariah: When I’m ready. I’ve got to go. 30 minutes until our heat.

  Cecilia: See you soon! Love you.

  Mariah: You too, CiCi <3

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Sparky loses, by less than a foot, but her boat was tapped to be the first boat for Women’s National Team. So while Olympic gold is out of reach… for now, Sparky’s traveling around the country kicking ass.

  As for our boat? It’s not the same without her. We have a new cox, Samantha Winters. And she’s great, but she’s no Sparky. Our wins are sporadic. I keep asking Sparky to move in with me - especially now that she’s traveling so much, and she stays here most nights when she’s in town. But for all my charm, she still says no — even though there’s a twinkle in her eye. I swear she’s saying no just to yank my chain. But I’m a patient man, and when she’s ready, I know she’ll say yes — to moving in and so much more.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Two years later

  * * *

  I light the candles on the table and double check the bubbly in the ice-bucket. I hear the door click in the entryway. She still doesn’t live here, but at least she now has a key. That only took a year. I’m hopeful that when I ask again tonight, for the millionth time, she’ll say yes. Finally.

  I glance up, and momentarily forget to breathe. She’s wearing my favorite dress— the turquoise one from New Year’s Eve two years ago— the night everything changed. My mouth curls up, and I round the table to take her into my arms. “You look ravishing.”