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“Everything.” Sergio rubbed his belly.
I had a sudden snap to remind him he shouldn’t eat too much grease or fat before another match, but I kept my mouth shut. I was tired of arguing with them. Let them load up on bacon, sausage, and burgers. He could stuff himself with steak until he had to be rolled out of here.
“Yum,” I faked enthusiasm.
I wasn’t that experimental. I wanted to be. The new me, the me that had packed up everything she owned and moved to another country, was supposed to be an adventurous free spirit. The kind of woman who would try the spicy food that came with a warning label. Taste all the different cocktails. Attempt to salsa on the dance floor when the music started.
Instead I ordered a salad with grilled chicken and some kind of rum drink that looked like a mojito. I advised the guys not to drink the night before a competition, but I didn’t see why I couldn’t have one drink. The Italians were incredibly laid back about alcohol anyway.
I handed my menu to the waitress when I saw him walk in.
I gripped my thighs and tried to turn away as if I hadn’t spotted him in the doorway. Shit.
Paulo laughed. “I see the Americans.”
“Really?” I stared ahead at the colorful flower arrangement on the center of our table.
Sergio stood up. “Why don’t we invite them over?”
I tugged on the side of his pants like a child begging their parent not to embarrass them. “Sit down. We don’t want to do that.”
“Oh, Bella. It’s fine.” He waved to Pierce and his partner Scott. I noticed a beautiful woman walked between them.
There was a twinge of jealousy that sprung out of nowhere. Of course he would have someone. Why wouldn’t he? He was sexy and sculpted like a god. Women would want to go out with him.
“Sergio. Paulo.” Scott Lauer walked up to the table, followed by Pierce and the brunette. She was cute and petite. I was eaten up with jealousy. I tried not to glare at her. It wasn’t her fault.
“Ciao. Ciao.” Paulo pulled out a seat for the girl. “Sit.” He took the back of her hand to his mouth and that’s when I saw the glittery diamond. It was huge.
I exhaled louder than I should have. She was married. Scott put a protective hand on her shoulder and slid the chair in for her.
“Nice of you to offer your table.” Pierce smirked, taking the seat next to me.
How did this happen? Dinner with the Italians had suddenly turned into dinner with the one person I was trying to avoid in Rio tossed in with an irrational dose of unnecessary jealousy. I was losing it.
“I didn’t.” I backpedaled with rudeness. I put up instant boundaries. “It was Sergio. He doesn’t know who he should be friendly to or not.”
“Hi, I’m Reyna.” The girl who I had decided was married to Scott held her hand out across the table. “I’m Scott’s wife.” I still felt relief.
“Hi. I’m Sierra. Team Italy’s trainer.” I smiled.
She exchanged a look with Pierce and I tried to distinguish what it meant.
“I’ve heard you’re pretty good.” She picked up a menu.
I was the one who looked at him this time. What had he been saying about me? Had Pierce actually been talking to someone else about our mini rehab session?
“I do the best I can for my athletes.” I felt extremely awkward with the Italians at the table.
Although, they were busy threatening to pound Scott’s face into the wet sand tomorrow.
“Maybe you can help me with this thing I have in my neck,” she suggested. “Ever since we’ve been in Rio it’s been hurting and I can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong.”
“Sure. I can try to help after dinner.”
“Oh, thanks. That would be amazing. Scott is really good at neck rubs, but I think it’s more than he can handle.” She ribbed him playfully, but he shot back something snarky at Paulo, missing his chance to play the doting husband.
Pierce leaned toward my ear. “My knee could use some more work.” It was more like a growl than a whisper. It shot a tingle down my spine that quivered toward my toes.
