The door to the cafeteria is propped open and I walk through, spotting the person I need to see to end my misery right away. Perfect. He sits at a table to the side of the room, reading on a tablet.
Fuck this. I’m done.
I slide into an empty seat at his table, nobody else daring to sit here. Asbell doesn’t even look up.
“I quit,” I say banging my hand on the table.
CHAPTER FOUR
He doesn’t look up.
“I hate this job.”
Slowly, like it pains him to do so, he finally raises his eyes from his tablet screen. “We all hate this job.”
We do? From the way he gets off yelling at people, I’d always thought he rather enjoyed it.
“Athletes are assholes.”
Asbell lays the tablet softly on the table and cocks an eyebrow upward. “You were misinformed and thought they were nice people beforehand?”
“Well —” whatever I was about to say is cut off when Oliver sits in the chair beside me. He is dressed at least — if a pair of wind pants and a white T-shirt count as dressed. His hair is still standing atop his head wildly in every which direction.
I roll my eyes and scoot my chair an inch away from him. Can’t he see we’re in the middle of a public cafeteria? Reporters and cameras aren’t allowed but it doesn’t mean the gossip mill won’t be churning. The large open space with tile floors and concrete walls is a perfect location to have a conversation echo. Conversations among the athletes eating breakfast, some with their families, is steady but I swear the volume drops at least two notches when he walked in.
Asbell’s eyebrows get higher. “Are you the reason Ms. Marston is trying to quit?”
“She’s not going to quit,” Oliver says.
Jerk face. “Yes, I am.”
“No you aren’t. I’ve been watching you since the day we arrived. Besides first check-in time when you told me you were my PR rep, you haven’t given me an ounce of attention. You think I finally got you to notice me and I’ll let you quit now? You do not understand the determination I have.”
Asbell nods his head. “Athletes are known for their determination.”
“What?” Whose side is he on?
“I don’t know what happened this morning. I’m serious,” he says when I roll my eyes. “My roommate let this crazy into our room. She gets into bed with me and takes a picture while I’m sleeping.”
“Uh-huh.” I look to Asbell and it doesn’t seem like he believes the story either.
Oliver sticks his fingers in his hair pulling. “I swear to you. I’ve never seen this person before in my life.”
“How did a fan even get into the building?” We have a huge security team. They check IDs. Someone would have to sign her in. At least that’s the way it should be done.
Now it’s Oliver’s turn to roll his eyes. “Who knows who she actually did sleep with last night. She probably stopped by my room while doing the walk of shame.”
Asbell groans. “My God, you young people. So much drama. I am not paid enough to babysit you all.” Here comes the yelling.
“Me?” I should not be included in this.
Waiting for Asbell’s answer, I don’t see Oliver as he leans over until it’s too late.
He kisses me! Full on the side of my face. When I turn to confront him, he does it again…on my lips.
To be fair I don’t pull away. In fact, there might even be a few seconds — no more than five — when I kiss him back.
Purely out of shock, not because his lips are soft and moist and the way they line up against mine is kind of perfect. Finally, when my head catches up and I remember I’m kissing a snowboarder in the middle of the athletes’ cafeteria, I pull back with a shocked gasp.
“What the hell was that?”
Oliver smirks. “The best kiss ever.”
It was good, but I don’t know if it was the best kiss ever. I mean has he seen the episode of Veronica Mars where Logan and Veronica kiss?
Asbell groans again. “Are you two sleeping together?” He points a finger at both of us, tipping back and forth.
“No!” I say.
“We could be,” Oliver practically shouts to the entire room. Why doesn’t he just get a megaphone? Pass out flyers?
I grab a piece of my brown hair and twist it nervously around a finger, looking at him like he’s a moron, because he is. I narrow my eyes in his direction. “No.”
Asbell shakes his head like he’s ready to pull his own hair out. “I don’t know what any of this means. But you two need to cool it for a week. The games are almost done and then once you’re both on a plane back to the states, I don’t care what you do in the plane lavatory.”
Did my boss just tell me not to have sex at the Winter Games, but we could in the plane’s bathroom? I may not be able to look at him the same ever again. He’s like a completely different person. One who probably had sex before. The thought of Asbell without a shirt makes me a little sick, but I do my best to push the images away.
“Nothing is going to happen between us. I promise.”
“She can’t make those promises.”
“Yes I can. It’s nothing but professional. Super professional,” I promise Asbell, giving him my full attention and doing my best to pretend Oliver isn’t in the room.
“Yeah,” he replies, not at all sounding convinced. “I don’t know how long this has been going on, but you’ve done a good job of keeping it a secret. Don’t ruin it now.” Asbell picks up his tablet and pushes his chair back.
“It hasn’t been going on. Nothing has gone on,” I promise, but he isn’t listening anymore.
Asbell walks away from the table slowly. “First things first. I’d make sure your athlete has breakfast and then finds his way to the practice area, Miss Marston.”
“Right. Yes, sir.” I suppose if he isn’t going to let me quit right now I have to go back to addressing him as sir like we were directed during orientation.
I wait until Asbell exits the cafeteria and then hit Oliver on the arm as hard as possible. “What the hell was that?”
“A declaration.”
“A declaration?” I wrap the hair on my finger tighter. “In front of my boss?” Who does he think he is coming into the cafeteria and interrupting my opportunity to quit? And saying the things he said? I definitely haven’t forgotten all that even if my brain wishes it could.
Oliver shrugs. “I told you to wait in the hallway. I couldn’t let you quit.”
“Oh, I’m still quitting.” I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to.
“You can’t. If you quit who will help me see my Gold Medal dreams come true.”
I drop the hair from my finger. “Are you being serious?” He likes to joke around maybe this is his idea of funny.
“I’m dead serious. I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks. If I had known I needed to be a fuck-up I would’ve started coming up with crazy demands. You see,” he says, looking to the ceiling deep in thought. “I was trying to get you to like me by not causing you more work and being super easy to deal with, but I see now it was my fault. I should have been demanding and in-your-face.”
“You shouldn’t have done any of those things.”
“Well what should I have done?”
I can’t believe I’m sitting in a cafeteria with a pro athlete discussing what he could’ve done to get my attention. “I don’t know.” The hair gets wrapped around my finger again. “Can we get you breakfast and go to the practice area?” I’m suddenly tired.
Oliver checks his watch, a fitness tracker all the athletes were given as a present for competing in the Golds. Because they all don’t have enough money to go out buy their own or whatever other stupid reason the company thought they give multimillion-dollar athletes more free stuff. You know the people who need gift bags full of high-dollar free items? Not already rich people. Us poor guys who have to work for them. Someone should give me a gift card worth a year of free massages. There sho
uld be hazard pay.
“Fine, I’ll grab some breakfast, but only if you do too,” he says, reminding me he is still at the table, and I didn’t dream the nightmare that happened a few minutes ago.
“I’m not eating.”
He crosses his arms. “Then I won’t either.”
Ugh. “You are infuriating. Get me a banana or something.” I don’t think it’s possible the US Gold Medal committee has found a way to put more protein in a banana. It may be the one safe food to eat in this building. Although if my worst fear is true, they open the bananas and roll them around in protein powder before giving them to us.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Will you be okay here?” Oliver zips up the jacket to his snowsuit. The outerwear athletes wear is smooth and sleek compared to the big puffy jackets sold at most outlets for regular people. It also costs way more than my hundred-dollar Columbia I picked up before leaving home.
I live in southern California. I don’t have much need for a big coat.
“Yes, Oliver. I’ll be safe in the lodge while you practice.” It’s been two hours since we ate breakfast and he practically declared we were going to start dating to my boss. Since then he hasn’t left my side.
Rather than me following around an athlete and making sure he doesn’t get into trouble, he’s decided to stick to me and make sure I don’t forget about him in the few minutes he’s gone.
I don’t know what to do with him.
Should I be flattered? Or do I have a stalker?
My feminist side says it’s absolutely ridiculous and I need to tell him to get the hell away from me — job or no job. Then there is this other side of me — one my feminist side refuses to believe exists — who says Oliver is cute, and sweet, and from what I’ve seen a nice guy. Maybe having a hot stalker isn’t a bad thing. I mean, how many girls would complain if Ryland Bates followed them around? The newly retired soccer player could stalk me all day. This is basically the same thing. Plus, Ryland could be a regular jerky athlete like so many of them are. But Oliver is a nice guy. I’ve see it with my own two eyes.
My feminist side doesn’t like when I start thinking about acceptable cute stalkers.
Oliver stares as I battle internally. “Well?”
“Well…” Is he waiting for a goodbye kiss or something? Because that will definitely not happen.
“Are you going to wish me luck?”
I didn’t think it was possible but my frown gets deeper. “Luck.” I nod my head for a little extra support. It’s all he’s going to get.
It seems to be enough. His face lights up and he smiles like hearing the simple word is all he needs to walk away with a gold medal. Even if this is only a practice run.
Satisfied with our exchange, he turns abruptly and steps out the large door. I’m not allowed on the practice course. Well, I guess I could throw a big enough fit they would let me stand out there, but it’s cold and I don’t want to. Now that Oliver has decided we’re bound to be an item, I don’t think I have to worry about him sneaking off the slopes at the end of practice.
“What’s up with you two?” Reagan walks beside me carrying a large Styrofoam container, bigger than the last few.
Being at the games wouldn’t be such a bad deal if you could be here as a tourist. The way these people are always carrying around boxes of delicious food from the dining area makes me think it’s like being on a cruise where you have unlimited food options and gain fifteen pounds.
“Me? There’s nothing going on between Oliver and me.” I walk behind Reagan as she leads me to the set of couches this group has used as their own personal viewing area for the last week and a half.
She sits on the couch and raises an eyebrow in my direction.
I take the chair opposite. “What?” There’s no reason for her not to believe me. I said it completely realistically.
“You see this box?” She waves her hand over the top of the Styrofoam container.
“Yeah.”
“This box is full of snacks to get me through the afternoon. Cookies, two cupcakes, and these small chocolate things I’m not even really sure what they are but they were chocolate so I grabbed a bunch. Marley will be here in a few minutes with healthier options. If you spill the beans now, I’ll let you snack all afternoon.”
I hate to admit it, but it’s a tempting offer. A cookie? I haven’t had a cookie in over a month.
Like she senses my hesitation, Reagan opens the top of the box. “Double chocolate chip.”
Double chocolate chip? Are there three better words in the entire English dictionary? I don’t think so.
I’ve never considered myself an easy sellout, but this unfair. Double chocolate chip.
I’m about to give in when Marley steps in the line of sight between me and the cookie. She breaks the trance the double chocolate chip has, and I shake my head to gather my thoughts.
“Are you trying to bribe McKenna to tell you what’s up with her and Oliver with chocolate chip cookies?” Marley asks sitting on the opposite side of the couch.
“Yup,” Reagan says, no guilt about it.
Marley looks at me, analyzing the expression on my face and the way my hands are tented together. “Is it working?”
“I think so.” Reagan nods her head slowly.
“You have been around Oliver a lot the last two days. More than you were around the other guys before they raced.”
“After the fiasco with Cyrus, I’ve been commandeered to make sure Oliver stays out of trouble. It’s business.”
Reagan’s nods turn to the shakes. She lifts the chocolate chip cookie from the container. “Just business doesn’t earn you this cookie.”
My mouth salivates as she slowly raises the cookie to her lips, her mouth opening about take a bite.
“Okay wait!”
She smiles and puts the cookie back in the box dusting the crumbs off her fingers.
“I don’t know what’s going on between us. This morning I tried to quit so I could go home and be done with him.”
Reagan leans forward in her seat, the container of chocolate too close to the edge of her knees for my comfort. “You did?”
“Yesterday we shared this great day together, but this morning I went to wake him up and there was a girl in his room!”
Reagan and Marley gasp. It’s perfectly timed…and a bit eerie. These two hang out too often.
“He promised me nothing happened and I don’t know when he would have met a girl for anything to happen, but the point is there was a girl in there…with him…together and her shirt was half unbuttoned.” I suck in a deep breath to replenish from my long run-on sentence. With everything spilling out of me, I can’t stop. “He told me I wasn’t allowed to quit my job because he’s had a crush on me the entire time we’ve been here and now that he has my attention he plans to use it. And then he made me eat breakfast.”
“Wow,” Reagan says passing over the cookie.
Wow? That’s it? She forces me to bare my soul for a chocolate chip cookie and all I get is a “wow.”
“So what will you do about it?” Marley asks.
I finish chewing the cookie because I wasted no time after she handed to me before I shoved half of it in my mouth. Forget savoring the flavor, I needed the damn cookie. I shrug, wiping a crumb for my lips.
“What am I going to do about Oliver?” As much as I hate to admit it, for an athlete he’s a really nice guy. Would it be so bad if I let myself get to know him better?
Well my heart may not actually say it, but the way it picks up whenever I think about him, I’m taking it as a yes. I haven’t dated anyone for over six months and the last guy was some crazy dude I found through Tinder after my best friend made me download the app. It was a bad choice and a bad first date. Maybe deciding to have feelings for one of the athletes I work for is it my best choice. I’ve made worse. Probably. And when love is involved, can you pick and choose who it’s going to be or when it’s going to happen?
Not that
I’m saying love is involved. Let’s be reasonable here, it’s been like two days. At the most it’s an infatuation. A desire to learn more.
And not that I’d ever admit this to Oliver, but I definitely spotted him on the first day. A bunch of athletes entered the hotel together after having used a shuttle from the airport. They were walking in the lobby laughing with each other and pushing one another back and forth making jokes about who would get into trouble this time. As the new member of the group — it being his first Winter Games — they were hazing Oliver by making him carry all of their carry-on luggage. He had two bags strung around his neck from the long loops normally used to carry them over a shoulder. And then another bag hung from each shoulder with another dangling from his elbows. He walked in this crazy unnatural state. His arms were bent so not to drop anything, the big thick gym bags issued by the US committee jostling and hitting each other back and forth, causing him to sway. It was hilarious and through it all Oliver laughed. Some athletes would throw a fit and refuse to do it, but he seemed to understand it was all in fun.
It was also the first time I noticed how great his smile is. Especially when he laughs. Or the way the sunlight hit his hair causing it to look a shade or two lighter.
What can I say, it was my first official day working with athletes. Before then I’d only had a bunch of training courses in New York. I didn’t realize what jerks they are. That particular knowledge came about four minutes later when they started making demands and becoming real assholes.
“Well, when you decide, make sure and let us know. Plus, if you have doubts Marley and I are great at helping make decisions,” Reagan says closing the top of the container and placing it on the coffee table beside her.
Marley gives her a what the fuck look. “You’re horrible at decisions.”
His Last Love Page 3
