“No.” I set my beer on the bar and then place both hands on his shoulders. “We’re not leaving here until we get you squared away. I can’t continue to watch you bomb with women every time we’re out.”
“Thanks a lot,” he mutters under his breath.
Another laugh slips out. “You’re too good-looking and too fucking nice of a guy to understand what a tragedy it really is. Now come on, tell me everything.”
“Everything?”
“What happened in middle school? What’s your type? Any kinks? Turn-offs? Lay it all on me. I’m going to be your wingman.”
A hint of a smile pulls at one side of his mouth. “What do you get out of it?”
“All your future dates’ hot friends, of course.”
2
HANNAH
“You’re late,” Coach Rodier says without looking at me as I jog into the gym.
Outside, the sun has only just risen, but in here it’s already a flurry of activity. Elite gymnasts ranging in ages from fourteen to late twenties are spread out around the huge gym, putting in the work to be the best. I know because that’s why I’m here.
Coach Rodier stands next to the balance beam where Hope Young, a shoo-in for the next Winter Games, is practicing her routine.
I pause, facing him. It’s one past the hour, but he is technically correct. “I know. Sorry, Coach.”
A deep groove forms between his brows as he flicks his attention from Hope to me. He has a thick gray mustache that hides his upper lip, but I don’t need to fully see his mouth to know he’s frowning at me.
“You say that you want to be the best, yet this is the third time this week you’ve been the last one to arrive.” His French accent is thicker when he’s annoyed, which he clearly is with me now.
I swallow the urge to explain myself to him. He isn’t interested in my excuses. I learned that the first time I was lateand apologized, noting my Jeep had broken down on the way to the gym. His response was a glare that made my breakfast curdle in my stomach.
“It won’t happen again.” It’s a vow I make to myself more than to him.
He doesn’t acknowledge my response before turning back to Hope, in time to watch her execute a flawless dismount. For once, I’m happy to have him ignore me.
I hurry to the far back corner where I drop my duffel bag and take a seat on the floor. I’m unzipping my jacket when Kinsley walks over wide-eyed but smiling.
“Wow. You really know how to make an entrance.” Her voice is rough and gritty, like she spent a past life as a sultry singer in a seedy nightclub but is filled with amusement as she comes to sit beside me.
“He hates me.”
“He hates everyone.”
It isn’t true, but he does have an air of irritation and frustration about him. He is one of the best coaches in the sport. He’s tough on his athletes but he puts in more hours in this gym than anyone, and the results speak for themselves. The biggest names in gymnastics trust him.
He’s the reason I moved to Moonshot. Coach Rodier and the Premier Gymnastics Center. Only the best train here. And the truly fortunate have him as their coach.
With the help of my agent, I managed to get a temporary placement while I prepare for the Winter Classic in February. Four months at the top gym in the country. And at the end of a six-week trial, he’ll decide whether to take me on as a client. That trial ends in two weeks, which means I don’t have much time left to show him what I’m capable of—or could be capable of.
He only takes a few girls each year, so my chance is slim. I’ve known that from the start, but I need him too badly to give up. Attwenty-three, I’m already old by gymnast standards. I don’t have a lot of time left, but I’m certain I still have more to accomplish before I retire, and I know he’s the one that can help me get there.
“I saw him crack a smile with Coach Liz yesterday,” I tell her.
“No way!” She lets her jaw drop in mock surprise. “He is human. Who knew?”
I let out a deep, cleansing breath. The weight of the past three days lessens just a tiny bit.
“So where were you?” Kinsley asks.
