Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Page 14

  I nodded. “I didn’t realize he was so rich until we were on the way here and he dropped so much money on beverages.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I mean, I read his dad owned some businesses and a soccer club, but Teo was supposed to just be a soccer player.”

  “He’s that, too. Doesn’t seem like he cares about your middle-class background,” Lia said. “Hell, we all came from that, except Teo, maybe.” She glanced at Briar who nodded. Lia shrugged. “So he grew up überrich and you didn’t. Abbi’s right. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about you. I wouldn’t let something as silly as money get in the way of your feelings and happiness.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Briar said.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with the usual Asher and Hayden squabbling and Lia soothing. I enjoyed the time with them more because of their acceptance of Teo—and that I deserved to be with him.

  My favorite exchange occurred right after we arrived. Asher hugged me. “Miss you, sweetheart. You coming to my show? People are asking for our song.”

  “Sure they are. Especially since you already told everyone I was playing with you.”

  I scowled at him, but Asher smiled, all slow and devastating, as he added a little shrug. “What can I say? Hope springs eternal, and I like singing with you. You’ve got nearly two months to prep for the next one,” he added with a wink.

  “Next one?” I huffed, tucking my bangs back and stepping closer to Teo. “There’s no point in getting angry with you, is there? This is Teo.”

  “Ah, the man with great taste in women and wine,” Asher said, smiling.

  Now, the sun had long since set and the car felt intimate, but my concerns about the exchange earlier reared back.

  “Did you have fun?” I asked Teo once we were back in his car, heading back toward downtown.

  He brought my hand to his lips. “I did. One of the best afternoons I’ve spent in years. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you came with me,” I said, shyness making my voice soft.

  He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his lips quirked with a knowing smile. I hooked my leg under my other knee and faced him better.

  “Briar says you’re stinking rich and super famous.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should have brought that up.

  “And what did you decide about that?” Teo dropped my hand; his knuckles whitening as soon as he gripped the steering wheel.

  “I don’t understand why you’d want to be with me when you could have probably any woman you wanted.”

  “I have the woman I want. Or, I should say, I plan to have the woman I want. That’s you, Preslee.”

  Warmth blossomed behind my breastbone. “What a nice compliment.”

  “I’m sincere. Stay with me tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need anything from your apartment?”

  I nibbled my lips. I packed a couple of outfits yesterday because I wasn’t sure what I’d want to wear today, depending on the weather. Seeing Brenna’s closed, angry face—the last look she threw at me—helped me decide.

  “I think I’m okay for tonight. I just don’t have anything to sleep in.”

  Teo’s smile formed slow and wicked. “That’s just the right thing to wear to bed.”

  “Have you always been so sensual?” I didn’t like the idea of Teo saying such things to another woman, let alone touching her as he did me.

  His brow pulled down. “I don’t think so. You bring out feelings in me I didn’t know were there.”

  “I like it,” I whispered.

  He sent me another sly smile. “I’ll make sure you do.”

  The next week passed in a blur of practices and rehearsals, a couple of games and lots of time spent in Teo’s condo. I wasn’t sure how to jettison my worry that I was just a way to pass the time until he was traded. Though, from what Teo said during his call with his agent, the likelihood of the trade was deteriorating with each passing day.

  He hung up his phone and bowed his head. I hovered in the doorway between his bedroom, an awkwardness I’d never felt before oozing from my pores.

  “You can come in here,” he said. “I assume you heard?”

  “Y-yes.” I twisted my fingers into my sweater. “Is that okay?”

  He looked up at me, a frown tugging at his brows. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “It’s just…you have to be disappointed.”

  “Milan wants me to have another physical in two weeks.”

  I settled next to him on the couch. He cupped his hand under my knee and tugged me closer. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist. With each breath, I relaxed into his side more.

  “And then?”

  “If everything looks good, I’ll sign papers.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. He’d go. He’d never hidden his goal from me, but the ache in my chest expanded, making breathing more difficult.

  Teo’s fingers slid up my hip to my waist. “Did Oren take his bad humor out on you?”

  “He yelled when he was upset.”

  Teo tipped my chin up and met my gaze. “I’m not Oren.”

  I shook my head.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  I nodded.

  “I want you to come to my game. Please.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Teo remained quiet the rest of the morning, holding me for a while before he had to get ready to go to the stadium. My heart ached for him—I was too well-versed in giving up dreams not to understand the turmoil he must be feeling.

  At the same time, Milan kept the talks open, stringing him along more than any player liked, but not closing the door. Which meant if his next physical was good, he’d go.

  We didn’t discuss what that would mean for us. If there would be an us if he were traded. Instead, I kissed him as I exited the elevator at my floor and smiled.

  “Good luck today.”

  “Wear my jersey?”

  “Of course.”

  He stepped forward, blocking the elevator doors from closing, and kissed me again. “I’m glad you’ll be there, Pres.” He stepped back and let the door slide close.

  Sucking up my courage, I entered my apartment, shoulders braced for Brenna’s scowl. Instead, I found her sitting listlessly on the couch, watching Four Weddings and a Funeral. My stomach fluttered at the sight of Hugh Grant. He only made an appearance in Brenna’s life when she was struggling to come to grips with some terrible blow.

  “Hey.” I settled onto the cushion next to her.

  “How was your weekend?” she asked, not looking up from the screen.

  “Good.” Way better than good, but I didn’t want to tell her that.

  Brenna sighed.

  I turned toward the television and watched a few minutes of the movie. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Brenna shook her head. She pulled the blanket up tighter under her armpits and scowled at the screen.

  “Um, ’kay. I’m going to grab something to eat, and then I’m going to get ready for Teo’s game.”

  “Have fun.” Brenna’s voice was listless.

  “Do you…do you want to come?”

  She picked up the remote from the cushion next to her and paused the movie. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose red. My chest ached at the sight of her recent crying bout.

  “Do you want me to? I mean, I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t want to make the situation worse.”

  I snatched up her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I want you to come. You’re my best friend, Bren. I miss spending time with you.”

  She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you, too. If you want me to join you, I’d like that.”

  Balancing my time with Teo and Brenna might prove precarious, but both were important to me. I’d figure it out.

  This game, like the previous one, kept me on the edge of my front-row seat. After settling in, I looked up at the JumboTron to
my own face. Though dread swirled through my stomach, I smiled and waved as the announcer said, “Looks like our favorite player’s girlfriend is back to cheer on her man. Maybe, if we’re lucky she’ll sing for us soon.”

  Brenna’s sullen pout also hit the huge screen, much to my dismay. Almost as much as the announcer calling me Teo’s girlfriend. We hadn’t defined our relationship—in part because I was afraid to ask him what he wanted or where we stood.

  As soon as the camera crew moved on, Brenna leaned over. “Oren’s going to hear about this.”

  I shrugged. What else could I do? Not much, really. Sure, dating Teo meant stepping back into the limelight—a place I thought I’d left for good. But not dating Teo…my skin warmed at the thought of his touch, his kiss, and the feeling of his long, hard length sliding into me. Yeah, not going to happen. I needed him. More, I wanted him. And, for the first time in years, I wanted more than I feared.

  Teo turned from the lineup and threw me a kiss. I smiled as I pretended to catch it and smack in on my cheek.

  I planned to keep the wanting more than the fear. Forever.

  Teo took his position for the opening kickoff, eyes focused on the ball, brows drown tight in concentration. With the whistle, Teo sped into action. His thighs bulged with the explosiveness of his push off, his arms pumping as he sprinted forward into position to receive the ball. A perfect kick that tapped him in the side of his cleat in neat timing with his long stride. Teo wove around one defender, brought his head up and passed to his teammate on the left side. Murkowski feinted right before taking the ball up the left sideline. As three defenders collapsed in on his position, Murkowski kicked the ball back into the middle of the field, which Teo caught on his chest and let roll down his long, lean body. With small dribble steps, Teo flashed around another defender.

  He was within twenty feet of the goal. He dug in his left cleat and brought his right leg back. With a thud that left me breathless, Teo kicked the ball straight through the goalie’s hands where it slammed into the back of the net.

  I stood, cheering and jumping up and down. The man was a maestro of footwork. Even Brenna was up and hopping, clapping and cheering him on.

  For the next hour, the Timber made eight more shots on goal—all misses, including one by Teo. The Dallas Flames missed twelve, much to their captain’s mounting frustration.

  “The Timber defense keeps collapsing.” I squeezed my hands together between my bouncing knees, struggling to breathe through the last fifteen minutes of regulation play.

  Harris, a strong Timber midfielder, managed to catch some space between two Flames players. He sprinted forward, his legs laboring to stay in front of the defensemen. He kicked the ball up field to Teo, who, with a quick swivel of his head, slammed a cross-body kick to Murkowski. Teo’s kick soared high, in a straight, hard line drive toward the left side of the goal. Murkowski leaped and headed the ball toward the right crossbeam and into the side net.

  The crowd went wild, many unable to believe the shot they’d just witnessed.

  Teo dropped his hands to his knees, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hair and nose. The back of his jersey clung to his back as he struggled to regain control of his breathing.

  Shock, awe, and passion swirled through me. Teo was a superstar. One of the best players I’d ever had the privilege to watch. He raised his head and winked right at me.

  I had to catch my breath. Oh, I wanted him in that moment with a burning need that nearly consumed me. No matter what Oren tried to do, no matter how scared I was about my possible future with Teo…there was no way—no way—I could give up Matteo Cruz.

  “Hello?” I said, fumbling my phone as I tried to get the narrow sheath of plastic and glass between my ear and my shoulder.

  I glanced at my watch. I might be late to practice at the symphony but then Teo and I would have the night to spend together. He’d had to travel for his first away series since we’d begun dating nearly two weeks ago, and he was due home within an hour of my rehearsal ending. Four nights was too many to be away from him.

  Brenna hadn’t said anything and neither had I—I assumed she was aware I planned to spend the night with Teo, much as I did every night he was in town.

  The silence dragged on and I started to pull the phone away when I heard Oren’s deep voice. “I told you I don’t share.”

  I paused, swallowing hard. A light sweat broke out across my entire body.

  “Oren.”

  Brenna stopped eating her cereal, her spoon halfway to her mouth. Get your phone, I mouthed at her. She shot off her chair and pounded down the hall, back in less than twenty seconds, the recording app already up on her screen.

  “You don’t get to be famous, Preslee. I don’t want you to be famous. I don’t want other men looking at those trim thighs I used to sink between.”

  “I’m not yours.” My voice wasn’t as strong as it should be. My body shook, trying to expel both his voice and the memories he brought forth.

  The fear Oren instilled in me was visceral, ugly, and unwelcome. I pulled my phone back and pressed the speaker button, shocked by how steady my hands were.

  “Oh, but I do get to decide. I’m the one who chose to give you up, but I never said you were free to do as you pleased.”

  “I am not your possession. You need to stay away from me.”

  “I could have grabbed you that night you were with him. On your first date. If I wanted to.” My stomach dropped and my throat closed. Teo had been right. Oren had been following me, and I hadn’t known. Danger remained imminent, constant, and, all this time, I’d stayed blissfully unprepared. I squeezed my hands into fists. No, I wouldn’t let Oren take my safety or my sanity.

  “I thought about it. How easy it would have been. You may be tall, but you’re light. Fragile. I can break you again, if I wanted to.”

  My knees buckled and I caught the edge of the counter. “That’s a threat. I plan to add it to my restraining order.”

  “Like that will keep me from what’s mine.”

  Oren cut off the call.

  I slid to the floor, placing my forehead to my knees. I took a deep breath, then another. And another.

  Brenna’s hand rested on the back of my head. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Not really. He—he scares me.”

  Brenna crouched down in front of me and clasped my chilled hands in hers. “He scares me, too. But you know what? We have evidence that proves he has followed you and that he’s threatened you. We’ll go right now and take it to the police department. I won’t leave your side until we sort this whole thing out. Okay?”

  I nod, my eyes never leaving hers. “You sure you can do that?”

  She smiled, brushing my hair out of my damp eyelashes. “Pres, this is what I’m here for. To help you.” She helped me stand. “I’ll always help you.”

  19

  Teo

  I fed off the cheering crowd, pushing myself harder than I should have. Who didn’t love adulation? Thousands of people screaming my name—major high. Scoring the only goal in the last minute of that first game?—another adrenaline dump.

  Now we were in our last game of the three-game road trip. I missed Preslee with a fierceness that shocked me.

  The head coach of Milan called me that first night after my winning goal, and we talked for an hour. He asked multiple pointed questions about my hamstring, which I answered with more candor than even I expected—much to my agent’s fear and annoyance. I mean, who in their right mind would jeopardize a trade to one of the world’s best fútbol teams?

  Needing advice, I picked up the phone multiple times to call my father, mainly because I could not speak of my issues with anyone within the Timber organization—not even Jorge—for fear of what would get back to management. But I always set the phone back down without dialing. My father might love the female form, but I’d concluded as a teen he’d never loved any of his mistresses. His advice would be to do what was best for my career, never mind my growin
g need to see Preslee’s smile each morning and to kiss her soft lips each night. And, Dios mio, to listen to her sing.

  The first time she sang in my shower, I dropped the clothes I’d just grabbed from my closet and ran toward the bathroom door, listening to her with my eyes closed. Santa Maria, her pitch remained perfect, deep with resonance. Like Adele or someone of that caliber. Listening to her sing quickly became my second favorite pastime.

  My first favorite was making love to her, because our sex blew me away. Preslee held my full attention and my dreams at night. I awoke from a dead sleep, aching with the need to touch and love her again. Then again.

  The team set back to our line and I pushed thoughts of Preslee from my mind. The San Diego midfielder missed his pass, and the crowd groaned in frustration when my midfielder picked it up, driving forward, his eye flicking up to mine.

  A defender blocked the pass so I moved forward, trying for a better angle. The defender, John Klein, dropped his shoulder and shoved me. The guy had a chip the size of California on his shoulder, unhappy because he hadn’t made the American national team. Or so Id’ been told. That didn’t have much to do with me, but I was frustrated by his physicality. So was Jorge, our acting coach. He screamed at the referee, who turned to glare at John.

  Hopefully, message received.

  The ball moved back down toward the Timber goalie, Tim Varner. After another few minutes of play, Varner scooped up the ball and punted it back down the pitch.

  My midfielder collected the pass and caught sight of me. He dribbled past one defender and kicked it to me.

  I smiled, loving what I did. My lungs screamed as my legs pumped. I pushed forward. Klein shoved me out of the way, making me miss my stride and tumble to the grass. I rose, angry words on my lips, when the whistle sounded. Yellow card for Klein.

  Not enough, but at least the pendejo was on notice. One more yellow and he was out of the game.

  During my tumble to the ground, the San Diego defender sent the ball back to his midfielders. Play continued. My hamstring ached more than usual, but I managed to keep my head in the game and my body limber.