Page 3 of Swimming for Seduction

Is sheflirtingwith me?I’ve been drooling over this woman since she joined the station after a fast-track academy course earlier this summer. And now that she’s actually showing me the interest that I wanted, I can’t help but wish that her light brown hair was a rich chocolate, or that her crystal eyes were green instead of blue.What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Naw,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “I don’t go to Tracey’s parties. All of her friends look at me like the kid cousin. Which I am.” I shrug. “But I feel weird turning a blind eye to the underage drinking since I’m also a deputy.”

“Oh.” Becky drops her eyes. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe I shouldn’t go either.” She raises her eyes to mine again with a grin. “Where areyouheaded tonight?”

Yep, she’s definitely flirting with me.And I feel…nothing.

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t go to the party. You’re actually old enough to drink.” I wink, trying to act the way I would have a few days ago when her attention was all I wanted.

“I guess I’m barking up the wrong tree.” She laughs, proving her instincts are on the mark as she throws her hands up in surrender. “I can see you’re not with me.”

I let out a relieved sigh at the smile she gives me, letting me know she’s not offended that I’m blowing her off. But I’m pissed at myself on her behalf.

“Honestly.” I wait for her eyes to connect with mine before I confess, “If I though I stood a chance, I would have asked you out months ago.”

Her eyes widen in shock before she recovers with a snide grin. “Who is she?”

“An explosion waiting to happen,” I admit.

“Well.” Her eyes dance with amusement. “I hope I get to witness the fireworks when they ignite. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She turns and leaves the locker room without another word.

Chapter 3

Ricki

I let the thoughts that haunt my mind fall away as my body slices through the water. No dead dad. No deceiving mom. No estranged brother. No hot cop. My mind focuses only on the feeling of the water rippling around me and the burn in my muscles.

When I push myself out of the pool, I’m met with the shaking head of my coach. “The pool is closed, Erica.”

“Ricki,” I correct her. “Pleasedon’t call me Erica.”

“Ricki.” She nods. “Your form is beautiful. I can’t wait to see where you go when you startreallytraining.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I tell her as I grab my towel and wrap it around me. “That means so much coming from you. I hopeyou’re not disappointed when I beat your record in the Olympics this summer.”

“Nothing would make me prouder.” She gives me a bright smile before her face sobers. “But that will be hard to do if you get yourself into trouble for trespassing.”

I take in her lean form adorned in a swimsuit before raising a brow. “You just want the pool to yourself, huh?”

My coach and I have met at the pool a few times this past week. We hit it off immediately, having the same drive to be the best. She is everything I hope to be someday, and I remind her of herself when she was training. It’s a connection not many can achieve, but we just click.

“You caught me,” she admits with a grin. “But in all seriousness, if you want access to the pool after hours, please let me know. You really would get into trouble if you were caught here without a pass. Montgomery Walsh is the Dean of Students, and he is not very forgiving. There wouldn’t be much I could do after the fact.”

“Yes, Coach,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”

“Go enjoy your last free weekend before practices officially start.” She lets out a sinister laugh. “You’ll need it.”

I nod before heading to the locker room to shower and dress for a night out. I’ve heard rumblings around town this week of a party up the mountain, but I don’t know anyone here yet and I don’t feel like being the loner freshman at the back-to-school bash.

So, once I’m dressed, I Google sports bars in Thorngrove and find out that Ball Busters is the chosen venue for college athletes. I pull up the directions as I get into my Ford Escape and make my way to the address in less than five minutes.

I walk into BallBusters expecting to see a variety of athletes and fans, but I’m disappointed to see that it’s nearly empty. Besides the lone bartender, I only see a middle-aged guy at the end of the bar and a girl around my age, looking way out of place in her bright pink dress.

She spins around on her stool as the door chime announces my entrance and smiles brightly before turning back to the bartender. “Look, bad boy. You’ve got another customer.”

The bartender looks up and sighs before turning his attention to the girl in front of him. “She’s a freshman. I won’t even get to serve her a real drink, pretty girl.”

“Don’t be a grump like Tony,” she scolds before hopping off her stool and running up to me. “Hey, I’m Livvy. Don’t let my boyfriend run you off. He’s just salty that he got stuck working when all of our friends at are the back-to-school party.”

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