Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Page 22

  “She said she broke us up because she loved me.” I stepped out of her arms and gulped my mocha, needing something to mask the bitterness from my mouth.

  “We’ll deal with Brenna later. You haven’t talked to Teo since he left?”

  I shook my head. “Brenna blocked him from my phone, all my social media accounts. And I found my phone in Brenna’s nightstand.” I scrubbed my palms over my cheeks. “I planned to call Teo last night, but I fell asleep on the ride home.” I glanced up at Abbi. “That’s definitely hormones.”

  Abbi’s mouth dropped again. “Unbelievable. Teo was at the show last night,” Abbi said. “Maybe he’s still in Seattle.”

  I shook my head. “I finally forced it out of Brenna. He left the show early because his dad’s ill. It must have been serious for him to leave so quickly.”

  Abbi rubbed her hand up my arm. “At least you know why he didn’t say hi.”

  Even amid the heartache, pleasure flushed through my system. This is what I always wanted—this closeness with my family. “I need a new place to live.”

  “Why don’t we kick Brenna out?” Abbi’s voice turned biting. “She’s not living in the same building as me. Clay pulled some strings to get us this condo. The bonus of living near you has been fantastic. I’m not moving just because Brenna’s a horrible person. I already did that runaway thing once. Doesn’t solve any problems.”

  I squeezed her hand. She gripped mine back.

  “You found Clay,” I whispered.

  “You own that place,” Abbi said. “Not Brenna. There’s no way that woman is staying in this building now that we know she’s a backstabbing bitch.”

  I snorted out a laugh that turned into a hiccup.

  “Why aren’t you angrier?” Abbi asked.

  I considered her question. “I am. I’m also devastated. Brenna’s been my best friend since elementary school.”

  “But?”

  “I know Teo got played and used just as much as I did. I keep thinking about how right we were together when we were alone—just us. He told me he loved me.”

  Abbi tilted her head, those blue eyes sparkling in anticipation. “Aw. He did? I’m not sure I can miss your reunion now.” She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know. It’s between you and Teo.”

  “You have a lot of your mom’s romanticism in you.”

  Abbi rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Not news. Here’s the plan: Clay and I boot Brenna from your condo while you fly to Buenos Aires. If Brenna won’t leave because I tell her to, I’ll call in the big guns.”

  “Noah and Nate?” I asked.

  Abbi laughed. “My mom and Aunt Bri.”

  I nodded. “That’ll do it.”

  “We’ll get the locks changed on your condo.”

  “Wait! I should call Teo. To make sure he’ll even hear me out.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

  “Of course, you are,” Abbi said. “Here, give me your phone.” She grabbed it from my hand and punched a series of buttons.

  “What are you doing?” I squealed.

  She shooed me back as I made a desperate grab for my phone.

  “Teo? This is Abbi.” She ducked my leaping attempt. “No, Preslee’s okay. Physically, anyway. I’m hoping you’re asking means you’ve decided you want your kid.”

  “Abbi!” I yelled. “Give me the phone. Now.”

  “Yep, that’s Pres. She’s so loud for a skinny mini. She needs to talk to you.” Abbi tossed the phone toward me, smart enough to realize she better not get too close herself.

  “Teo,” I murmured into the phone.

  “You’re okay? The—the baby?” he asked, anxiety spiking through the words.

  “Yes. We’re both good. I need…I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry for the way I behaved the other day. I was scared you wanted to leave me and I thought I was being smart, but then I just found out Brenna’s been talking to your mom, strategizing to keep us apart.”

  “Breathe, dulzura.”

  My nose stung when I heard the endearment. Maybe…maybe he’d hear me out. “Brenna called Oren to let him know I’d be at the symphony. She or your mom leaked the information about your hamstring.”

  “I learned much of this myself earlier today. That’s why I’m flying back, private jet and all, to see you. I’d hoped you’d listen.”

  “I will. I’m so sorry, Teo. So sorry.”

  The line crackled.

  “We’ve hit turbulence and the copilot wants me off the phone.”

  “Okay. When can I see you? I need…I have more to say to you.”

  “I get into Sea-Tac in about six hours.”

  “Okay.” I stood. “I’ll grab my car and pick you up.”

  “No way!” Teo snapped. “We won’t get to talk about anything if the media finds out I’ve come back to talk to you. My flight attendant is grabbing at my phone. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. I have much to say to you, too.”

  Those words crept across my skin, ominous little spiders of doubt.

  “What did he say?” Abbi said.

  “That we need to talk.”

  Abbi crossed her arms. “Duh.”

  “I need to be at the airport. I need to talk to tell him I love him…” I stopped. Would it work? “I’m meeting Teo at his gate. Doesn’t matter he said no.”

  “Not sure you’ll be able to get access, Pres.”

  “The jet goes to a private hangar?” I asked.

  Abbi shrugged. “Probably. Want me to find out?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got an idea.” I smiled, which turned into a grin. Then I laughed. “Will you find out, please?”

  “Sure. I like this sparkle in your eyes.”

  “I need to go shopping,” I decided. “Will you help me?”

  She hopped off her bar stool. “This is gonna be epic.”

  31

  Teo

  Preslee’s call had woken me from a bone-deep sleep. I stood, stretched. I went to the bathroom and washed my face. My eyes were still bloodshot, and my muscles jerked, fritzing over the time zone changes.

  Preslee’s words flowed through my head: she planned to come to me. I sighed out an aching breath of relief. Though I was glad to know Pres was no longer under Brenna’s control, my first thought was to comfort her. She’d been betrayed by her best friend, after all.

  I couldn’t wait to hold her soft cheeks between my palms and kiss her soft, sweet lips. But my body craved hers—desperate to make love to her—and I wouldn’t pay attention to much else if I took her lips or considered the pale luster of her skin or the shadowy dip between her hip bones and stomach. One of my favorite spots. I shifted, trying to take my mind off loving her up before I even saw her.

  Would her body have changed already? Soon, I would see the signs of my child growing inside her.

  I pressed my forehead to my linked hands, wishing I could go back to the night in the hospital. Tell her I loved her then. Tell her how excited I was to be a father to our child.

  My passion—from my formative years to now—was soccer. Paparazzi were the price I paid for the rush of bending a ball into a net in front of ten thousand or more screaming fans.

  I didn’t want to give that up, but I’d known even then my injury meant a shift—I would no longer hold the spotlight or score the gaming-winning goal.

  Per Timber management, I didn’t have to give up my dream out of hand. As I’d told Preslee that night she’d been attacked, my goal evolved. Coaching brought me a different kind of satisfaction, one I thought, with Jorge’s help, I could build into something more exhilarating than scoring a goal. Maybe. But first, before I signed or tore up anything, I must talk to Preslee.

  We taxied then stopped.

  “Señor Cruz, there’s a guest at your hangar. Do you wish us to drop you here instead?”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  I didn’t want to get lambasted by the media. I didn’t have answers. I was too tired to be civil.

  “Señorita Jennings,
I’m told.”

  “Get me there.” Fatigue slid off my shoulders as the buzz of anticipation built around my thrumming heart.

  My eyes roved over her. She wore a skin-tight, beige catsuit. I exhaled sharply as did the pilot and copilot exiting the plane behind me.

  “She’s mine,” I growled.

  “Lucky bastard,” one of them muttered. I didn’t bother to answer because Preslee raised the microphone to her lips.

  I stopped on the bottom step, ignoring the pilots who bumped into me. Preslee sang. To me. Like I asked to her all those weeks before. I stepped forward, just one step, but she held up her hand, her eyes, those pale green irises brimming with emotion, as her voice dipped lower.

  Spanish. She sang to me in Spanish. She didn’t speak Spanish. She must have memorized the lyrics.

  I wasn’t familiar with the song. But I figured it out as she hit the chorus the second time. “Mi Ancla.”

  My Anchor.

  What this woman did to me.

  I strode toward her as she began the third verse. I cupped her chin, nudging the microphone out of the way, and pressed my lips to hers. God, I’d missed her. Her eyes, her smell, her short hair. But mostly the way her body fitted to mine. Her smell enveloped me, and I moaned.

  My lips were on hers. For the first time since my trip to New York, everything settled into place. Her soft skin was between my palms, her warm body pressed, pliant, against mine.

  My own version of heaven.

  “Preslee,” I moaned against her eager mouth. I gathered her closer. “Dulzura.”

  “I owed you a serenade,” she whispered.

  I touched my forehead to hers. “Promise me something?”

  She nodded.

  “You never wear this outfit again.” I all but growled the words and my hands gripped firmly into the flare of her hips.

  Those black angel brows swooped low. “You don’t like it?”

  I slid my hands from her face down to her throat over her breast. Her breath broke as I continued to trail my fingers lower.

  “I love it. So did my pilot and co-pilot. Both of whom might be out of a job.” I pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Then another to her jaw just below her ear. A third to the soft, fragrant skin where her neck met her shoulder. “What I want to do to you.”

  Her fingers tangled in my hair. “Teo,” she gasped. “Please. Oh. I’ve missed you.”

  “Have you? Upset you broke up with me then?” I touched the tip of my tongue to her rapid pulse.

  “God. Yes.”

  “Not enough. We’ll get there. First, I want to take you home. This need for you…it’s great. Maybe more than the first time.”

  “Yes.” She pulled back and met my gaze. She took a little breath. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

  I smiled as I pressed my lips to her. I kept my eyes open to take in each of her features, mesmerized by her black brows and lashes against the creamy perfection of her skin.

  Her lids fluttered up. Her eyes were celadon from desire.

  “I love you, too.”

  She hiccupped a sob. “God, I needed to hear that.”

  “Come. Let’s get in the car.” I tugged her forward. “Did you come just wearing that?”

  She shook her head, her cheeks blooming crimson. “I brought a hoody.” She cleared her throat. “It’s yours.”

  I appraised her. “This I like. Let me see.”

  She grabbed my gray Timber sweatshirt, tugging it up her arms. It fell to her knees. I followed the line of her leg down to her high-heeled nude boots.

  “Mmm, nice. I know what’s beneath, but the rest of the men who wish to see are left wondering.”

  I tugged her forward out of the hangar. A sleek black SUV waited.

  “Car service?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t know you were meeting me. How did you get here?”

  “Abbi drove me. She said she and Clay would come back and pick up the microphone and amp.”

  “Text her that’s unnecessary. The hangar is locked after final maintenance checks. I’ll get you a new one.”

  “I borrowed it from Clay.”

  “I’ll buy Clay a new one.” I helped her into the car, clambering in after her. “Send your text, dulzura.”

  I slipped my hand over her knee, resting it possessively on her thigh. She inhaled sharply but did as I asked.

  After dropping her phone back into her purse, she rested her head against my shoulder. I leaned down, pressing my nose into her soft, short hair.

  “I missed you,” she whispered. “I hate the mess I made of everything.”

  “Preslee, love.” I caught her lips in another long, stirring kiss that heated my blood past sanity. I drew in several long lungsful of air before I managed to exit the vehicle. Preslee took longer. I ducked back into the car to see her scrawling her name on the back of a napkin.

  I sighed, knowing I must master these pangs of jealousy. Preslee was beautiful. Men were always going to stare at her, perhaps covet her, no matter my feelings on the matter. And I didn’t like it.

  Preslee turned back, a soft pink tinge creeping up her cheeks. She handed the driver his napkin and stood next to the car, gazing at me as uncertainty built between us.

  With a mental fuck it, I grabbed her hand, thankful when she exhaled in a quick puff of air. We must talk through our concerns and fears—no doubt about that. But I didn’t want the paparazzi’s camera’s continuous flashes or shouted questions.

  “Did you and Preslee get back together?”

  “Is it true she’s pregnant?”

  “Are you getting married?”

  “Is she moving in with you?”

  “Did you quit soccer to move in with her?”

  She nibbled at her lip.

  “The only comment I have for you,” I began, “is that Preslee Jennings is the love of my life.”

  A slew of raised voices pursued us into the building, but I ignored them all.

  “Thank you for that,” Pres said, her voice low.

  “I meant it.”

  Her dark lashes rose as we stepped into the elevator. “Thank you for that even more.”

  Her low-heeled boot caught in a crack between the elevator and the lobby and she stumbled. I dropped her hand and scooped her up against my chest.

  Her feet dangled off the ground as I plastered her to my body. Lust flared hot in her eyes.

  “Always falling into my arms.” I nuzzled my nose into her hair, needing this. Her breasts felt fuller as I crushed them to my chest, her waist narrower. Her hipbones were prominent, even through her catsuit and hoodie. “You’re thinner than the last time.”

  “That’s because,” she stopped, swallowed. “Morning sickness.”

  We’d already given the pap quite an eyeful. “I don’t want this all over the news, Pres. Inside.”

  The elevator doors slid closed. My finger hovered over the button.

  “Your place or mine.”

  She shuddered. “Yours. I’m not ready to go back to mine yet.”

  After pressing the button, I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “I’m so pissed at you for believing Brenna over me.”

  “Oh,” she squeaked, eyes wide and bright green in her pale, china doll face. “Yes, you should be.”

  I forced my feet back and bent to pick up her fallen purse. As I slid it into her palm, my brain and heart thudded with possibilities. Preslee looked tired, rumpled, and all-together delicious.

  She chewed on her lip, her eyes latched on to my face. The longing in her gaze reached deep into me and unlocked all the feelings I tried to shove down. I had to look away.

  As she’d said before, I can’t be second place. I shoved my hands into my pockets.

  Her hand tightened around her purse’s slim strap. “I need to tell you things,” she stuttered, eyes wide, uncertain.

  “We will.”

  “Teo, I—”

  The elevator dinged, and I pressed my hand agains
t the door, making a sweeping motion for her to go through.

  When we reached my door, I asked, “Ready?”

  “No.”

  I stopped and stared at her, confusion and annoyance spiraling up through my chest. “You came to the airport. You wanted to talk to me?”

  “I—I do,” she stuttered. She licked her lips, her face flushing bright red. “But I’m scared, and I need to think.”

  I picked up her hand, slid my palm over hers. Tingles slid up my arm. I’d missed intimacy with her. Her smell, her touch. Just knowing she was near. “Your bangs grew. They stay behind your ear.”

  She patted her soft black hair, sending static through it. “Yours is shorter. I like it.”

  She dropped her hand to her stomach. She looked more fragile than ever. But at the same time, she glowed, like a light illuminated her from the inside.

  She seemed more grounded.

  Silence swirled around us as I let her into my condo, uncomfortable but not unpleasant. She dropped her purse on the chair and still held my hand. She bit deep into her lip again, the silence eating at her.

  Whatever she wanted to say, she struggled to get the words out.

  “I made you promises, Preslee You didn’t believe me.”

  “You left me,” she whispered. She shoved her hands under the hoodie’s arm holes. Her eyes were wild, her face too pale. Her chin wobbled. “I never would’ve walked away if I knew how much I’d miss you. Finding out I was pregnant…I worried you’d think I tried to trap you into a relationship you didn’t want.” She huffed out a breath.

  “I did think that,” I was compelled to admit.

  “I don’t want the relationship my parents had,” she said. “My dad cared for my mom, but he didn’t love her. He did his duty. I—I couldn’t be that, act like that. Disregard your future happiness.”

  “Stop projecting your parents’ relationship on us.”

  I wanted to touch her but I knew I wouldn’t stop. Her smell surrounded me. Her eyes called to me. I wasn’t going to be able to resist her for very long.

  Her eyes were filled with sadness. “It’s what I know.”

  “My parents are a mess, too. My mom helped orchestrate the news about my hamstring. She and Brenna are a pair.”