Get Wilde (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 3)

by Shelly Alexander

  Sean blows out a heavy breath.

  “I’m goddamned if I do, and goddamned if I don’t,” I say.

  “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up,” Sean says. “Look, maybe just go easy on her. Win without destroying her on the field.”

  “I don’t think you understand how an athlete who has been at her level thinks.” I swivel my chair back and forth with nervous energy.

  “I don’t think you understand how entertainment works. Yes, this is an athletic competition, but it’s also the next best thing to reality TV. Why do you think most of the athletes are participating?” He dials down his tone. “We want this to be fun and interesting, remember? That’s why we picked her to replace the last coach, and now it’s the reason we’ve got new sponsors.”

  “I’ve gotten to know her enough over the last few days to respect not only her athletic skill and physical strength, but also her heart as a competitor,” I say. “I guarantee Adeline doesn’t want an unfair advantage for her team, she doesn’t want me to go easy on her as a coach, and she damn sure doesn’t want anyone manipulating the outcome of the competition. It would be an insult of the highest order to an athlete like her.”

  “Wow. Okay. You’re like her own personal cheerleader.”

  “Rah, rah. That’s an asshole thing to say, and you know it,” I growl.

  “What can it hurt to not win quite so big, Ethan? Would going balls to the wall be worth losing everything?”

  Well, fuck me. “How do you expect me to get my team to lighten up and ‘not win so big’, as you put it?”

  “Zach and I were thinking…”

  Goddammit. I know I’m about to get screwed.

  “Let’s not involve the teams. Let them do what they’re gonna do, and may the best team win, as they should. Instead, we want you to challenge Adeline to a little friendly competition. A showdown between the coaches. It’ll be the two of you competing against each other on the obstacle course.”

  “And let me guess,” I smart off. “You want me to let her win.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone tells me I’m right. “She’ll never agree to it.” I’m one hundred percent sure she won’t after spending time with her the past few days.

  “Then she doesn’t need to know,” Sean says.

  I can hardly believe what I’m being asked to do.

  Or that I’m actually thinking of doing it.

  Chapter Twelve

  I shuffle along the sidewalk the next night on my way to 7th Inning Stretch. I’m ready to see my team and introduce Red to hers, but knowing the short time I’ve had alone with her is over is like a weight pressing in on me.

  The spring air is brisk, and it goads me out of my gloomy state. I shove my hands into the pockets of my black tailored pants and double my resolve not to let a personal relationship with Red escalate more than it already has.

  May be a little late for that, though. I mean, I doubt I could get anymore up close and personal with her than I did in my office. Plus, I crave pretzels more now than ever.

  I breathe in the fresh air, and look up to take in the Manhattan skyline. Twinkling lights burn bright through some of the windows, and the awe-inspiring buildings are outlined by the deep purple hue of the night sky. This is New York fucking City. People are flowing around me, and yet I feel more alone than I have since college when my life fell apart.

  No idea what the hell has gotten into me.

  A taxi honks and swerves around a pizza delivery guy on a bike. A few colorful words are exchanged along with some animated hand gestures.

  I scrub a hand over my face, and stop lying to myself. I know exactly what has gotten into me. A petite redhead. She’s gotten under my skin, she’s occupied my thoughts, she’s taken root somewhere deep inside of me. A place I thought was dead and kept locked down tight for years.

  I turn a corner and pick up my pace because the bar is just a block away.

  Red has been distant since the bank incident. Or maybe it’s because I finger fucked her to an orgasm that was loud enough to require a strong dose of AC/DC to cover the sound filtering from my private office into the gym.

  Either way, I gave her space and didn’t press the issue. Instead, I kept my focus on training, letting her take me through the drills she’s planning for her team. Some are unorthodox, but I can see their benefit all the same.

  I’m early as I walk up to the front door of 7th Inning Stretch where Sean and Zach have arranged a meet and greet for some much-needed team bonding. I encouraged Red to get here before the party starts, too, but I’m extra early. It’s a good example and commands authority as a leader to be the first to arrive and the last to leave.

  Imagine my surprise when I walk through the door and my attention snags on a sexy redhead wearing a slinky black dress.

  I swallow back the cotton in my mouth.

  Red’s back is to me. She’s perched on a stool at the bar, talking to another woman I don’t know. Red’s legs are crossed and angled to the side, and she’s wearing a pair of strappy stilettoes that make my filthy mind spiral in a hundred different dirty directions.

  I take stock of the room. It’s not super crowded since it’s midweek, and no one else from the event has arrived yet.

  I ease up behind her and lean against the bar.

  Chase walks over, and I notch my chin up in a dude greeting.

  “Usual?”

  I nod, and Chase fills a frosty mug with Guinness to put in front of me.

  One of Chase’s business partners, Jacob, emerges from a back room, we exchange the dude greeting, and he starts serving customers at the far end of the bar.

  I adjust my stance and shift to the right so I can hear what Red’s saying to her pretty friend, who has long brown hair with bright blue tips.

  “That bastard.” Red’s words are slightly slurred.

  I bristle. I’m not sure if she’s talking about me, but that’s not the problem. She’s here to meet her team for the first time, and getting drunk won’t inspire enthusiasm or confidence.

  I glance at her drink just as she swipes it off the bar and takes a big slurp of Appletini.

  Shit.

  “I’ve had so much going on the past few months since the asshole left town, I forgot to change my passwords. He cleaned out what was left in my account, which wasn’t much.”

  “Douche,” her friend says, obviously talking about Red’s ex.

  Jealousy and anger crash through me, mixing and mingling until I can’t decide which I feel more. The thought of Red with another guy, even if they aren’t together anymore, makes my chest tighten. Couple that with the thought of the same asshole stealing all of her money, and I see nothing but…red.

  I should be ashamed for eavesdropping, but I’m so fucking not. I want to know more about the douchey bastard Red and her friend are discussing over Appletinis.

  “Did you call the police with an update? The more information they have the better.” Tips says.

  Red knocks back another long swallow. “Before I had the chance, he must’ve had a change of heart. The money showed up in my account again.”

  Her friend gasps.

  “I’m not sure the police would be too concerned about a criminal who returns stolen money. And it was a lot more than the amount he took yesterday.” She blurts the exact amount I deposited into her account.

  Fan-fucking-tastic. I just racked up brownie points for the douche, bastard ex-boyfriend who robbed her blind.

  “Now if he’d just give back the rest, I wouldn’t have to close my studio.” She hiccups and slaps a hand over her mouth.

  Her friend squeezes her hand. “Can your folks float you a loan?”

  Red shakes her head adamantly, and her flowing red hair coasts around her shoulders. “They gave up so much for my gymnastics career; I’d never ask them for more.”

  Tips gives Red another hand squeeze. “I’ll teach classes for free for as long as it takes, and if you kick ass and take names in this Weekend Warri
or thingy then you’ll have all the money you need to dig out of this mess that Andre created.”

  Andre? His name is Andre?

  “Why do I always fall for the bad boys?” Red asks.

  Her friend holds up a finger. “One bad boy. You’ve fallen for one, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

  “That’s one too many,” Red says.

  The weight is back and pressing in on me again. Red hooked up with the wrong guy, and now she’s suffering the consequences. If I keep letting this thing with Red escalate, I’ll only make her situation worse because I can’t give her more than one night.

  She deserves forever.

  And whoever offers her that will be one lucky SOB.

  It just can’t be me.

  “He wasn’t even that good in bed,” Red says.

  I freeze.

  She snickers. “Andre was pretty boring in bed, actually. Like vanilla ice cream. It gets the job done in a pinch, but when you add chocolate, caramel, whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry on top you realize how vanilla can be so much more delicious.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. My prick snaps to attention and offers up a crisp salute.

  “You’ll meet the right guy eventually,” Tips says. “We both will.” She giggles, the alcohol obviously taking over. “I know Dave didn’t work out so well, but what if I try to find another match for you? Maybe nice like Dave, but taller.” She giggles again. “And better looking. And not so boring.”

  I’m taking a drink of Guinness when Red says, “Okay, but add another question to their profiles. From now on I’m only dating guys who like pretzels.”

  It’s all I can do to stop from spewing beer everywhere.

  Good God. Now I’m sporting a boner the size of the Empire State Building. Because, hello, pretzels have become my new obsession. I can’t seem to satisfy my pretzel craving.

  Her friend frowns like she has no idea how a snack food relates to the conversation. “Pretzels?” She scoots Red’s Appletini out of reach. “I’m cutting you off.”

  Red leans across the bar and snatches up her drink. “I need to get laid.” She takes another long drink. “By someone who is good in bed. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.” I can hear an eye roll in her voice. “But good sex? Pfft.” She waves a hand in the air. “I never knew what good sex was—” She snickers and leans in to her friend.

  I follow her, leaning in the same direction. No way can I stop listening in on her private convo now.

  “—Until yesterday.” Red starts to laugh but hiccups again.

  “You had sex yesterday?” Tips tries to whisper. One too many Appletinis prevents that from happening.

  “Shhh!” Red hisses. She glances to the side, but not far enough to see me standing right behind her. “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of?” Tips insists, frowning like she did over the pretzel comment.

  Chase is filling a mug from the tap and shoots me a smirk like he’s enjoying the entertainment Red and her friend are providing. They don’t seem to notice him, even though he’s standing right there. Blending in, listening to the customers without intruding is a bartender’s superpower, and Chase is a master at both. I’m sure he’s heard it all, but he seems to find Tips amusing.

  Problem is, I don’t particularly want my buddy, Chase, to hear about my new favorite food.

  “Well.” Red wiggles in her seat like the story is about to get juicy. “I was taking a shower on my lunch break, and—”

  Oh, hell no.

  “Excuse me.” I interrupt. “I just realized it was you.” I take her elbow and ease her off the barstool. “I’m so used to seeing you in gym clothes that I didn’t recognize you in a dress.”

  “Ethan.” Red’s eyes round into two full moons.

  “Ethan Wilde.” I introduce myself to Tips.

  “Noelle,” Tips says, twirling a blue strand around a finger. She’s eyeing both of us suspiciously, since Red is still too shocked to offer up an explanation.

  “I’m a coach in the Weekend Warrior competition,” I say to Noelle and give Chase a look that tells him to play along. “Chase, can you keep Noelle company while we talk?” I wiggle a finger between Red and me.

  “Sure thing, man.” He says to me, but his eyes are planted on Tips.

  I place a hand at the small of Red’s back, and press her forward. “We’ll be right back.”

  Right after Red and I have a little coaches’ meet and greet of our own. In private.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With a firm grip on Red’s elbow, I lead her down the hall, planning to commandeer a restroom. Then I see Chase’s storage room at the end of the hall. Much better. I breeze past both the mens’ and ladies’ rooms. The storage room will be more private, and I won’t have to be a dick in order to vacate the room for a private conversation.

  “What, Ethan?” Red insists.

  I don’t answer her. I’m too upset that she a) has had too many Appletinis right before meeting her team, b) was about to announce our pretzel tasting session to anyone within earshot, and c) her slinky black dress and fuck-me spiked heels are driving me to want to drink too fucking much right before seeing my team.

  I try the handle of the storage room, and the door swings open. “Inside.” I’m not even trying to be charming.

  “Fine, Dick.”

  Okay, I’ll give her that one, but under the circumstances…

  Red smooths the bottom of her dress, her hands sliding over her waist in a way that makes my mouth water. She struts inside the small space that’s lined with boxes of snacks, bottled water, soda, and alcohol. When she’s in the middle of the room, she spins on a heel and plants both hands on her lush hips.

  I flip on the light, and I can’t fucking help it. My gaze drinks her in, sliding all the way to her pretty polished toes and up again.

  I swear, she pulls in a sharp breath when my hungry gaze lingers on that soft spot between her thighs, and I lick my lips. When my stare glides farther up, it snags on her cleavage and the outline of her hardened nipples greeting me through the thin black fabric.

  When I finally hook my eyes into hers, she’s flushed, her lips are parted, and her eyes are glassy with lust.

  I lock the door so no one can interrupt us, and ease toward her until I’m standing so close her breath washes over my jaw.

  “You’re drunk.” I stare down at her.

  She tries to look away, but I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger and turn her gaze back to mine.

  “No,” she insists. “I’m tipsy. Big difference.” She hiccups.

  I lift both brows, calling her on her bullshit.

  “I get the hiccups when I’m nervous.”

  “And you thought getting drunk would make it better?” I ask. “First impressions are everything, and if your team sees you like this, you won’t stand a chance as their leader. They won’t follow you.”

  She pulls a plump lip into her mouth and nibbles.

  A bolt of lust shoots through all four of my limbs and straight to my dick.

  “I…” Her voice goes soft and sweet, that self-confident air she usually carries slipping away. “I’ve only had one drink, and I didn’t even finish it. I was so nervous I couldn’t eat today. I guess the alcohol went straight to my head.”

  I glance around the storage room, forage through a few boxes for water, and grab a bag of party mix off a shelf. Then I’m back in front of her. “Sit.” I point to a stack of boxes right behind her.

  As she slides onto the makeshift stool, I crack open a bottle of water. “Drink this fast. It’ll filter the alcohol out of your bloodstream quicker.” I lift the bag of party mix. “Water and getting something solid in your stomach should kill your buzz immediately.” One side of my mouth curls up. “There’s pretzels in this.” I lift the bag.

  Her eyes dilate, and her stare anchors to my mouth as I put the bag of party mix between my teeth and tear it open. Slowly. Then I hand it to her.

  Within a few
minutes she’s polished off both the food and water.

  “Better now?” I take the empty wrapper and bottle and leave it on a shelf.

  “Thank you.” She nods. “We should get back.” She slips off the boxes and tries to sidestep around me. “Everyone will get here soon.”

  “Not so fast, Red.” I hook an arm around her waist. “We’ve still got time.” I pull her to me and tuck some of that thick, incredibly silky hair behind her ear. My hand lingers against her cheek, and I brush the pad of my thumb over her creamy skin. “Don’t go out with another one of Noelle’s matches.”

  No fucking idea why I said that, but I did. It’s out there now like a genie escaping its bottle. No way to stuff it back into the silent recesses of my mind where it belongs. Where it should’ve stayed.

  “Why?” she whispers.

  I can’t help it. I really fucking can’t. My thumb traces that plump bottom lip, and she pulls the tip into her mouth and sucks me.

  My dick springs to life and strains against my designer pants.

  I swallow. “Because he’ll be just as boring as Dave, and you’ll hate every minute of it.”

  “I’ll take boring over unreliable any day as long as they’re honest,” she says, and a hint of anger feathers through her voice.

  I know she’s talking about her ex-boyfriend-slash-accountant who skipped town with bulging pockets flush with her money.

  None of my business. Nuh-huh. Not going there. I don’t care who she dates.

  Except that I so fucking do, and jealousy crashes through me like a giant wave hitting the beach.

  “Dave wasn’t honest about his height, remember? He needed a step stool just to kiss you.” Another wave of jealousy beats against me, threatening to drown me. I don’t like the thought of Red kissing anyone but me. I brush my lips across hers, and the electric shock that zings through me takes my breath away for a moment. “He was late, which means he’s unreliable, too. And you don’t want vanilla ice cream anymore, right?”

  “You listened to my conversation with Noelle long before you let me know you were standing there.”