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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.
“What?”
“Trust me. I was looking out for your best interests. I’m sorry you got hurt, but I swear, Michael and I talked about it and Pierce’s a dick. We didn’t want you getting screwed over.”
The referee blew the whistle.
Eric backed up. “I’ve got to get in the stands. We can talk later.”
I wanted to scream. “Yeah, we’ll talk.”
I took my seat behind the Italian bench and waited for the set to start.
I had words for Eric. I had words for my brother. And none of them were something a nice girl from Four Corners would say.
Chapter Thirteen
Pierce
The whistle blew, but I was watching Sierra and Eric on the sidelines. Her hands were on her hips and she was mad. I could tell by the way she stared at him that something wasn’t right. But I couldn’t run over and check.
“You on?” Scott asked. He adjusted his wristband. I didn’t know why he always played with that damn thing. I think it was something Reyna gave him when they got married.
“I’m good.” I felt loose. My body felt amazing. A night of fucking like we did will do that.
My knee barely hurt. I wore the slip-on brace Larry gave me. It was the only contribution he had made to my care. The only reason I was able to play today was because of Sierra. She had taken better care of me than my trainer had attempted.
“Eyes over here then,” Scott reminded me.
“Shit,” I muttered as I watched Eric storm off from Sierra. Something was definitely wrong.
But we had a set to win and another match later tonight. I tried to block out what I had seen with Sierra. I tried to ignore the feeling that she needed me.
My feet sank into the sand. My fingers twitched,
waiting for the serve. I tried to focus. I swore I fucking zoned into Scott. But the serve soared toward me, I dove, and bumped it straight out of bounds.
He came over to slap my back. “Next one,” he assured me. “You’ve got this.”
“Sorry,” I said quietly. That shit never happened. Never.
I dug into the sand again. Sergio grinned from the other side, daring me to beat him. Those guys were fun last night at dinner, but all of that ended the moment we stepped on the sand.
He tossed the ball in the air as his hand came down, serving it across the net. This time I was ready. I bumped it toward Scott and he spiked it at Paulo. But Paulo hit it across. I soared up for the block and missed it.
“Damn it.”
“What is going on?” Scott whispered to me.
I shook my head. If I didn’t get things on track quickly the Italians were going to rack up enough points to win the second set and that would send us into a third. I didn’t want that. I needed my energy for tonight’s match. I hated playing third sets. It seldom happened.
Playing under the lights was different than under the sun. The sun had a way of draining the extra energy from all of us. There was a different vibe at night. I wanted that night game.
