Page 5 of Blocking Her Love

Once we’re doing actual game simulations, I won’t be so tempted to look at him. Watching him when he joins us for stretches dries my mouth. He’s so… shit, guys can be beautiful, too, can’t they? The lines his body achieves when he stretches, how his shirt rides up exposing his muscled abs, the curve of his ass when he bends forward. Yeah, the word is beautiful.

And he’s handsome as well with a face that could belong to a model. Chiseled features, a full mouth with lips that I’ve begun to dream about. Kissing me. I imagine what they’d feel like pressed to mine and drop my arms from a forward lunge stretch. Realizing I’ve stopped moving, I lift my head and discover Sean watching me, one finely shaped eyebrow arched in question.

I snap back into the routine movements and his lips twitch. Is he laughing at me and my loss of focus? He’s got no right to that laughter, especially since he’s the one who’s distracted me.

Even though I grumble, I do enjoy how my body feels after a stretching routine. Today I don’t notice that slight rise of endorphins. There’s something else going on with my body. I feel hot even though the sun isn’t high enough to cause the temperature to rise much. And tingly in places I don’t want to acknowledge. I move into our aerobics warm up determined to redirect my mind and body to the reason I’m here.

To win the tournament. Rise in the standings. Impress the national team organizers.

That’s it. That’s all I want. All I need.

Then I look at Sean and all that I’ve worked for seems to fade into the background. Damn it all. I’ve known Sean since college. Knew of him and his volleyball success even before that. He’s been a mentor, a coach, and a friend.

So why do I feel like something’s changed? There’s no reason I should feel so jittery when he looks at me. I don’t really try to stand close to him just to inhale the unique mixture of scents that belong only to him. The dreams I’ve had lately, the ones where I wake alone and needy, he’s not really the one making me feel that way.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I need to focus more on training. Get in more practice time. Focus on what’s really important. What I really want. To win. And keep winning.

“Ready for some drills, ladies?” Sean asks and moves to turn off the music.

I pump my fists. “Damn straight. Let’s go.”

He gives me a look I don’t understand then shakes his head. “Okay then. We’ve talked about a few issues and concerns from the last competition. You’ve been having some troublecommunicating on the court. So this morning I’m going to be serving. Different types of serves, speeds, locations. With some serves, I’ll call out the defensive play I want you to use. When I don’t give you a play, it will be up to you to communicate with each other how the rally will go. You’ll return my serves—if you can.”

He moves to a place beyond my practice square and we toss the balls to him. Then we get into position and he fires off his first serve. The ball hits the sand an almost equal distance between the two of us.

“Ace point for me,” Sean calls. “Pay attention. Next one’s a floater to Maya.”

After we successfully return that ball, Sean begins a rapid series of serves punctuated with suggestions, corrections, and his imitation of fake crowd noise. Sometimes I wish he’d be more serious, but this session is both successful and exhausting. I need more conditioning.

We take a break for lunch and approve the volleyball special sandwich Nyla created. The combination of smoked pork and fresh mozzarella from the cheese shop next to our rental, served with a peppery vinegar sauce is delicious. As well as fun and messy to eat. It’s one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.

After a short rest we return to the beach and have a long session of passing the ball to each other. Sean joins us occasionally and makes some lousy passes for us to try to turn into points. Throughout the session he alternates between being a coach and a laid back beach dude who makes us laugh.

He calls practice earlier than I expect. “Come on, Sean. We need to?—”

“Relax. We need to relax.” When I draw a breath to argue, he holds up one hand. “No arguments. There’s ten days until the tourney starts. Your matches don’t run for hours at a time.There’s down periods. Tonight is a down time. Don’t worry. We’ll be getting in some conditioning.”

“I don’t understand.” Sometimes this man makes me crazy. At that thought I suddenly realize that I kind of like that part of him, too. What’s wrong with me?

“Tonight we are going to hit a Love Beach hot spot. I asked Nyla for recommendations and she said the Sundowner is the best place for dancing.”

“Dancing?” I glance at Maya who’s trying not to smile. She knew this was coming.

“Yep. We are going dancing. Great aerobics. It will help you build stamina. Gettin’ funky with it will keep your body loose.”

“Gettin’ funky with it? Where did you come from? The 90’s?”

Unable to contain an infectious grin, he shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. We—the three of us—are going dancing tonight. No arguments. Coach’s orders.”

Maya touches my shoulder. “Come on, Ellie. It’ll be fun.” She wiggles her butt. “A little dancing, a little flirting. I agree, we’ve been pushing so hard. We deserve a little time off.”

I won’t win this. Not with both of them ganging up on me. I force my muscles to relax. Besides it might just be fun.

As long as Sean’s there. Maybe a slow dance so I can feel his arms around me again. Like when he hugged me the other day. Only without Maya.

Maya elbows her brother and jerks a nod toward me. “Looks like she’s in.”

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