Team Tomás (The Saints Team #2)

by Ally Adams

  “Yeah, Lucas got Dad and me tickets.”

  I saw Tomás’s eyes narrow slightly. He couldn’t possibly be worried about Lucas in my life—Lucas was living with my best friend.

  “Ah, good,” he said and turned to me. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I agreed. I smirked at my brother because even though we’re close, that’s what we do, and I gave Dad a kiss on the cheek goodnight. As we walked out, Ryan nearly bowled me over at the door.

  “Wow, is that a Mercedes AMG GT S?” he asked coming out to circle Tomás’s car. “I didn’t know they were released yet!”

  “Yeah, it drives very nicely,” Tomás said, as though the six figure car in our middle-class driveway was no big deal. It was sleek; two doors, smooth lines and being red, no doubt very fast.

  “I’ve never seen you on anything but your bike,” I said.

  “Mercedes are one of my sponsors so I just borrow a car when I need one,” he said, with a shrug.

  “Of course, silly me. Yeah, Toyota is my sponsor,” I teased, and the men laughed, as I glanced towards my little Yaris in the garage.

  Tomás turned to my brother. “Another time, I’ll take you for a spin if you like?”

  “Hell yeah, that would be great, thanks,” Ryan said.

  Tomás was doing all the right things to make a good impression—flowers, calling my dad Mr. Peterson, winning my brother over for life with a promised ride. And he had me at first sight.

  “Well, have a good night,” Dad said, and hustled Ryan inside with him.

  Tomás gave them a wave and turned to open the car door for me, I slipped in. This was so good—the new car smell and new guy smell and trust me, he smelt gorgeous.

  Tomás slid into the driver’s seat and put on his seatbelt. He stopped to look at me. “Hello Cookie,” he teased. He leaned over and kissed me full on the lips, hovering there for just a moment.

  “Hello Tomás,” I said, barely getting the words out. I was gone, maybe never coming back to reality. “Thank you for picking me up.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, bella.” He eyed my outfit. “You look very adorable.”

  “Thank you,” I smiled wishing everything would go as slowly as possible now.

  I spent a lot of time picking my outfit for tonight... more time than I probably spent studying in the last few weeks. It was a big dilemma—a dress or skirt? You don’t want to look too dressy but I didn’t want access to be too easy either if you know what I mean? Sandals or boots? Seriously; were we climbing sand dunes or not? Jewelry or was that too dressy? I wish we had all been born with fur coats like dogs and cats and all we had to do was pick a collar for the night. Wow another weird thought... where did that come from? Mm. Meow.

  Anyway, I decided on a hot pink fitted wraparound dress that fell just above my knees with three-quarter length sleeves which felt very girly. I figured Tomás might like a feminine type and I selected strappy sandals—I could always take them off to run across dunes. As for the underwear, well I spent a whole day on that not knowing if I’d be leaving it on or taking it off but I went for white, seamless, fitted, and satin-fabric. Didn’t want lace marks ruining my dress line. It was so complex. I wondered if Tomás spent any time thinking about his underwear; Lord knows I spent plenty of time thinking about what was next to his skin.

  Tomás started the car and pulled out. It glided along the road and he looked like the master behind the wheel. I think we might have been the first to sit in these leather seats and the silver and black interior was so beautiful. I looked at him, so in control, so stunning, and I wondered what it must feel like to be in his body, to be Tomás Carrera. I admired his beautiful arms, his hands on the steering wheel, the way he wore his watch—this guy was going to kill me.

  “Now, the great date,” Tomás said, getting my attention and musing over his words. “Well, I plan for it to be great. We have a lot of things to do.”

  “Do we?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes. We are starting with drinks at one of my favorite bars... you’ll like it I’m sure.”

  As he drove, he reached over and took my hand. I am going to remember this moment for ever. And the next moment and the moment after that. Tomás drove along the harbor and took his hand back to do a reverse park opposite a bar with water views.

  “A friend of mine just opened this little bar a few months ago.” He ducked his head a little in the car to look out the window and up at the sky. “We have probably twenty minutes.” Tomás opened the door, jumped out and raced around to my side to open the door. He extended his hand and helped me out.

  “Why? What’s happening in twenty minutes?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” Tomás smiled at me. He locked the car, took my hand and we crossed the street. It was such a buzz walking beside him—tall and handsome, my hand in his. People called out greetings to him as they passed and he returned them. Some snapped photos with their phones. Wow, these guys never got an off day.

  We entered the trendy little bar and I saw the reserved sign along the bench table at the front.

  “Ah, here’s Rocco.” Tomás shook hands with a small, nuggety man all dressed in black.

  “Rocco, this is Al... iss.”

  “Pleasure,” Rocco said, and shook my hand. “The seats you requested are waiting,” he said, indicating them. He looked pretty pleased to have Tomás in the front bench seat of his bar.

  Tomás led me to the timber bench and stool.

  “Now Al... iss, you must sit this way,” he said, facing me to see the water and the sunset but also very close to him. He put his legs on either side of mine and sat facing me. I was overwhelmed by view—the ocean, the sunset, and Tomás with his legs pressed against me. I felt like a bundle of nerves. Everything was heightened; I was not sure I would be able to swallow, let alone form a sentence.

  Moments later two tall glasses appeared, with the most delicious mix of champagne in red and gold colors and trimmed with mint. Tomás thanked Rocco and now, it made sense.

  “Wow,” I said.

  Tomás nodded. “I know. Beautiful, and you dressed to match the pink in the sunset,” he teased. The cocktail was the exact same red as the sunset and we had a front row seat to it.

  “It’s called Beach Sunset, a Rocco creation with orange juice, grenadine, champagne and a few other things. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, but it’s not too lethal,” he teased, remembering my last encounter with alcohol and my night in his bed where nothing, and I mean nothing at all, zilch, zero, happened. I think I went as red as the cocktail and Tomás laughed.

  He raised his glass. “To beauty,” he said.

  I clinked glasses with him and had a sip—divine. Behind us the sun was a huge ball of red, pink, orange and gold hues sinking into the ocean and if we did nothing else tonight, this would have been enough—so perfect.

  Chapter 13

  “Next, I’m going to dine you, Al... iss,” Tomás said, in his sexy Spanish accent, “but I will make you work it off later,” he teased. He left some dollars on the table and I noticed a very generous tip, waved goodbye to Rocco and we went back to his car. From there we spun into town to a tiny tapas bar called Granada.

  We left the car, he took my hand in his, and we entered a small but crowded restaurant. Again Tomás knew all the staff and there were kisses and handshakes as we were led to a private little room and seated in our own booth. That didn’t stop the flow of interruptions, but in a way I welcomed them. I could watch Tomás without blatantly staring; watch the way his smiled, laughed, related to people. The way he dipped his head just a bit shyly sometimes, the way he eyes lit up and became guarded when he wasn’t sure.

  And I was introduced as the woman with him; everyone was checking me out. I wonder how many of Tomás’s women they had met in the year that he had been with the Saints. Most of all Tomás was a good guy, a really good guy. To me, he was sweet and generous with his affections. The only bad things I had discovered so far about T
omás were that he liked to play the scene and was, according to the ladies at the Shaken Not Stirred bar, a bit rough. I guess if he was not in a relationship and was hot, single and in demand, there was nothing wrong with that. Except, I hoped to change his relationship status. I wondered if playing the field had a use-by date. Was a couple of years enough or did some people want to do it for life? I wondered what Tomás wanted.

  “Bella,” Tomás said, getting my attention, “this restaurant has a tapas-only menu, an excellent one. Do you trust me to order for us?”

  “Please,” I said, and within minutes a very attractive Latin American waitress joined us and greeted Tomás as if she knew him, carnally. I watched and internally panted as he ordered in Spanish without opening the menu. We both ordered colas to drink—Tomás was driving and training early in the morning and I wasn’t going for a repeat performance of last time, even though I’d be happy to revisit Tomás’s bed.

  Tomás sighed and took my hands across the table. “This place, the food is very authentic,” he said, with what I thought was a hint of melancholy.

  “Where is home?” I asked, studying his beautiful features.

  “Buenos Aires.” The words rolled off his tongue. “Beautiful city, very European, it is often called the ‘Paris of South America’—think the tango, artists, writers, theatre, historic architecture, wild nightlife and of course, beautiful people.” His eyes looked soulful as he spoke of home.

  I was still working on the image of Tomás dancing the tango in my head, with its dominant, long sensual moves. I cleared my throat. “When did you last go home?” I asked.

  Before he could answer, another attractive female walked in with our colas and slid into the booth next to Tomás, nudging him with affection.

  “He doesn’t go home enough, or so Valentina tells me,” she teased him. “How is Tina? Are you keeping an eye on her?”

  “She is well. And you look well, Lucia,” Tomás said and they kissed each other on each cheek. “This is Al... iss.”

  The beautiful Lucia gave me a warm smile. “Welcome to our restaurant, Al...iss.”

  “It’s wonderful,” I said, trying not to stare at the way she snuggled into Tomás. She had straighter dark hair than mine, which was no mean feat, large lips and large brown eyes.

  “Thank you. My business partner and I like it, but it takes over our lives. So, Al...iss, is he behaving?” She winked at me.

  Tomás rolled his eyes.

  “Unfortunately yes,” I said, and Lucia laughed out loud.

  “Ah but the night is young,” she said and wrinkled her nose at me in a teasing fashion. “I could tell you some tales.”

  “But you won’t of course,” Tomás said, ushering her out.

  Lucia laughed again and shuffled off the bench. Before leaving she turned back to Tomás. “When does Julieta arrive?” she asked.

  I noticed Tomás stiffen and his eyes flicked quickly to me and then back to Lucia.

  “Sunday,” he said.

  “Good, I look forward to it. Make sure you bring her in.” With a wave Lucia disappeared.

  I reached for my cola and had a sip, a thousand questions buzzing in my mind that couldn’t be asked because it was our first official date and I had no right to be territorial. But who was Julieta? His sister, cousin, friend, or more? Well that sucked and threw a bucket of water on my dream date. I had to pull myself up and out of that thought.

  “I am sorry for the interruptions,” Tomás said, “but it is the best tapas restaurant I know.”

  “It’s all good,” I assured him. “I love being here with you and meeting the people you know.” His fingers interlaced with mine. “You’re quite distracting Al... iss,” he said, with a shy smile.

  I cocked my head on the side and studied him. “What does that mean exactly?” I asked.

  He drew a breath and I waited for his response.

  “I confess I didn’t want to think of you,” he said and cleared his throat. “But you kept invading my head space. I tried for a week not to think about you.”

  I frowned. “But, why didn’t you want to think...”

  We were interrupted by the arrival of a number of small tapas dishes, this time delivered by a waiter that Tomás greeted as Felipe, who named each dish for my sake and left us to it.

  Tomás moved on as though he hadn’t just dropped a huge, intriguing bombshell on me.

  “You must try this one first,” he said and, taking my fork, put a little of the spicy dish on it and brought it to my lips. He watched my mouth as I took the offered bite. His eyes met mine.

  “Mm, so good,” I said.

  He smiled, took his own fork and helped himself to a serve. Tomás made me taste each dish and waited for my reaction before having a bite himself: bacalao, slow-roast pork shoulder in chipotle, shredded duck tortillas and chargrilled chorizo.

  “Rich, but delicious,” I said.

  “You wait until you try my mother’s cooking... I almost didn’t accept the contract here because I’d have to go without,” he joked.

  I waved off another bite; it was hard to eat when Tomás was sitting opposite me looking so divine and his legs were pressed against mine under the table. Plus he was talking about me meeting his mother... I could be reading a bit into that but I was running with it.

  He leaned forward. “Maybe coming here was a mistake,” he said.

  “Why?” My eyes widened. “It’s wonderful.”

  He shook his head and I bit my lip with concern.

  He moved several of the plates out of the way and reached for my hands again. “I’m going to scrap the next part of the great date,” he said, look intently into my eyes. His brown eyes were so compelling.

  My mind was going through a thousand scenarios in milliseconds, thinking of what I might have done wrong or didn’t do at all.

  Tomás ran a finger around my palm and up my arm, giving me tingles. He lowered his voice.

  “Sitting here and not being able to have you to myself is...” His breathing increased and as if on cue, Felipe arrived again to clear the plates and Tomás sat back, thanking him.

  I cleared my throat and found my voice. I made some conversation so it wasn’t awkward in the silence.

  “So,” I asked again, “when did you last go home?”

  Tomás drank some more cola before answering. “At the end of last season, about four months ago.”

  “Do you miss it?” I asked.

  Tomás exhaled and leaned forward, looking me in the eyes.

  “No.” He shrugged.

  “No, not a bit? No, not this week? Or no, not ever?” I asked, studying him.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but there’s a lot of them.” He smiled. “That’s how I got the nickname ‘Pez’. When my family visited last year, someone at the club said it was like seeing a Pez dispenser of Carreras.” He smiled and shook his head. He was so adorable. “But I am free here. My only responsibility is to play well for the team and to keep my contract. At home, it is always duty.” He finished his cola, and chased it down with a half glass of water.

  I did the same because the meal had been spicy.

  I started to put two and two together about us—Tomás and me—but before I could explore it further, Tomás pulled out his wallet and put more cash on the table.

  “Come Cookie, let’s get out of here.” He rose and hurried me along. “I’m scrapping the next part of the great date... no more people around us. I want to show you something.”

  “Thank you, Tomás, for tapas,” I said, accepting his hand as he helped me out of the booth. He pulled me into him, gave me a kiss, and grinned at me.

  “The pleasure is mine,” he said, stopping to look at me for just a moment. “Let’s go.”

  He kept my hand in his and I hurried to keep up with him. We left with the same raucous round of greetings—farewells this time—and Tomás stopped to sign an autograph and appear in a selfie with a young fan at the entrance. We returned to Tomás�
�s car and he saw me in again before coming around to the driver’s side. This time, he took off fast and we headed towards the beach. He parked away from the madding crowd.

  “You might want to leave your shoes,” Tomás suggested. He pulled his black leather dress shoes and socks off and rolled up his suit pants a few inches. I left my bag and shoes in the car and exited. He met me at the front of the car, and taking my hand, walked me towards the beach. He leapt the two steps down to the dune, turned around, and lifted me down. When my feet touched the sand, he didn’t let me go but pulled me closer.

  “There’s nothing here but the waves, moonlight and solitude,” he said, and sighed.

  “Perfect,” I whispered.

  Tomás put his hand in my hair, and leaned into me, kissing me softly then deeply. I slid my hands into his open coat and onto his white T-shirt. I lightly ran my nails down his back and he stiffened... everywhere.

  I could hear the waves crashing and Tomás’s controlled breathing. My own heartbeat sounded as though it could lead the school band. He slowly pulled away, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and we walked down the beach. I left my arm around his waist, inside his jacket.

  “I couldn’t concentrate before, with all those people around and your legs inside mine,” he said.

  Thousands of pins and needles tingled me everywhere. He was so smooth, very dangerous for a young blood like me. But I soaked it all in, trying to capture every minute in my mind’s camera. I shivered, not from the cool air, but as tingles from being near him rushed my skin. Before I had time to explain I wasn’t cold, he slipped his jacket off and held it out for me to put on. I slipped my arms in and he took my hand, smiling at how his jacket drowned me.

  “Isn’t this magic?” I said, feeling the cold sand between my toes and the light spray of the ocean on my face.

  “I come here often at night,” he said. “Everyone is down the other end with the bars and lights, but here is so quiet.”

  “By yourself?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if that was good or a sad thing.