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“It needs your fingers.” He raised his eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. “All right. But it’s going to have to be quick. You have to get on the court.” He followed me to the bench on the sidelines of the beach.
Today the sun was bright and hot. There wasn’t a trace of yesterday’s storm other than the soggy sand. Everyone rushed around to set up for the first match. They had to squeeze in all the matches that were canceled from yesterday in order to keep the tournament on schedule.
I made Paulo sit so I could start his calf stretches.
“Did you hydrate last night after dinner?” I asked.
“Of course, bella.” He looked over toward the stands and waved at a group of girls who started taking pictures of him.
I knew the volleyball players were as popular as the swimmers and soccer stars. They had their own set of groupies who followed them all over the city. Paulo and Sergio were basically rock stars in Italy.
I pushed on his heel, forcing his calf to elongate. “Any better?” I asked.
“I think so.” He wiggled his toes. “Grazie.”
“No problem.” I stood from the sand when Pierce walked onto the court.
My eyes couldn’t move. My body froze. I felt the same heat and the intensity in one stare that I had felt in his lips less than an hour ago. Holy hell, what was I going to do? I wanted to drop Paulo’s stupid bag and run to the American side. I wanted to throw my arms around him. I wanted to tell everyone here that last night I had become a new woman. I had become Pierce Miller’s one and only.
And then the sinking pit of disgust hit me when his gaze warned me not to move. I couldn’t do any of those things. I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t check his knee before he played. I couldn’t kiss him and feel that wicked tongue of his.
And damn it. I couldn’t cheer for him.
He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and turned to Scott. I thought I spotted Reyna in the crowd in one of the lower rows, hovering on the US side. She was waving an American flag wildly.
That’s where I wanted to be. After one night I was ready to change camps so eagerly. I was ready to abandon my team and six months of work.
I had to get a grip.
“Thought I’d come say hi.”
I looked up. It was Eric.
“Why?” I pretended to look over the gym availability schedule for the guys.
“Sierra, I’m sorry about what happened with your interview. I thought we could put it behind us.” He chuckled.
He had no idea what he was talking about. Because of him I had moved to another country, and now worked for a bunch of jesters. No one took me seriously on the Italian team, and I was homesick as hell.
“Did my brother make you say that?”
“No, but it’s going to be really awkward at Christmas dinner if you’re holding a grudge.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I live in Italy now, Eric. I don’t know that I’ll make it home for the holidays. But go ahead, have a great time with my family.”
I was sure my parents would help pay for my ticket home in December, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to feel guilty for not hiring me. We both knew I was an exceptionally better trainer than that Larry character. He could barely bend over. Eric had changed the course of my life and I still didn’t know why.
“Sierra, I wish you would stop being so pissed,” he pleaded. “I-I did it for your own good.”
I could see Sergio from the corner of my eye posing for pictures. He wasn’t even trying to warm up.
“And how was that? You thought I needed an international experience? You thought it would be good for me to broaden my cultural education? What exactly was it that I did to make you turn me down for a job that we both know I was more than qualified for? I had to be your best applicant. I’m a hell of a lot better than that guy.” I pointed with rage to Larry who was rearranging sports drinks for the guys.
Eric gritted his teeth. “It wasn’t you. It was Pierce Miller. I promised your brother I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.”
My throat clamped shut. My eyes started to water. My hands balled into clenched fists.
