Page 29 of Trapped and Tackled

“Three, Two—” He lowers his goggles and we both get into position. “One. Go!”

I push off the wall and swim as hard as I can. But I’m not desperate to beat Talon Miller. Either way, I win.

Because it means another evening spent with him.

Chapter 8

Talon

“You cheated!” I accuse as I hit the wall a stroke behind her.

She laughs. “Don’t let Freddy hear you say that. Those are fighting words.”

“Freddy?” I shake my head, pulling off my goggles.

Leni blushes. “It’s what my friends call Dad,” she admits.

My eyebrows lift. “Freddy?” I sputter, unable to see Coach Strauss as anything other than Coach.

Leni giggles, lifting her hand to her mouth sweetly. Innocently.

God, but she’s cute.

Stop flirting with her!

But I can’t because being with Leni, talking and joking and hanging with her, is the most natural I’ve ever felt around a woman. Things with her are…easy. Sometimes, alarmingly so. I find myself sharing things with her that my closest teammates don’t know.

“I beat you fair and square,” she says, pushing her index finger into my chest.

Reaching over the lane divider, I tug her closer. “Fair and square?” I repeat. “Who says things like that?”

She blushes again, deeper this time. Like she’s actually embarrassed. “I do,” is her retort.

I snort and shake my head. “You do,” I agree. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Len. Name your favorite restaurant. Favorite type of food. Whatever you want.”

She ponders this for a moment. “Do you have any allergies?”

“Nope,” I admit.

“Do you live alone?” Her eyebrows tug together and for a beat, I can’t read her expression.

“I do.”

She sucks in a breath and stares at me for several seconds, a faint blush warming her cheeks.

I wait for her to continue, searching her expression for a clue about what she’s going to say. My gaze drops to her lips and I instantly regret it. Leni’s lips are slightly parted and soft pink—practically begging to be kissed.

“My favorite meal is schnitzel. It’s my grandmother’s recipe and one of the only dishes I make pretty well.” She bites her bottom lip, as if unsure, and I force myself to blink. “I can make it for us. But?—”

“You want to cook dinner for me?” I interrupt, feeling a kick behind my breastbone. No one’s ever cooked for me before. I mean, other than the various foster parents I collected over the years—who mostly did the bare minimum to ensure I was fed—and some team dinners sponsored by a coach or a teammate’s parents. But not counting myself, there’s been no one who has ever made a meal specifically for me.

Leni tugs off her swim cap and clenches it in her fist. Her hair tumbles down, framing her face and draping over her shoulders.

She steels her shoulders and clears her throat, as if shoring up her resolve. “Yes. I’d like to cook for you, Talon.”

I nearly drown in her eyes. My gaze darts between them as if trying to find a hidden motive. Or…something.

Because why would this woman who is lightyears out of my league want to do something…nice for me? Especially after she won the race. The wager.

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