I spent the next few days debating how much more effort I should put into finding Cecelia Sullivan. The girl was a ghost. A quick internet search had turned up nothing.

  Two days later, when I was complaining to Dylan about my frustrations, my friend shook his head. “Just forget about her, man,” Dylan said. “You got laid, and it was great for you, but she’s had her fun and you’ve got to move on now.”

  He was helping me unpack, a task that I had hoped would take my mind off Cece and put me into a more productive mindset. I started my job coaching the Coulter girl tomorrow, and wasn’t entirely surprised my mind chose to linger on Cece, instead.

  “Great for me? What do you mean, ‘great for me’?” I huffed.

  “I’m just saying that maybe for her—”

  “It was great for her, too,” I assured him. “You weren’t there. Shut up.”

  “Fine,” Dylan conceded, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender over an emptied box. “Whatever you say. You were the best fuck she ever had. That doesn’t mean she wants to see you again. Maybe she’s not looking for a fuck buddy.”

  “She wouldn’t have been just a fuck buddy.”

  “Yeah, maybe not to you, but how would she have known that? You said yourself she went there looking for a hookup. She got one. How was she supposed to know you’d want to see her again for more than just a fuck? And who’s to say that she was looking for—?”

  “All right, all right, I get your point,” I dismissed Dylan’s rambling blows to my ego. “She wasn’t into me like that.”

  “You’ve said yourself you’re going to be busy babysitting this rich chick. Are you even going to have time for a girlfriend?”

  “I said all right,” I snapped and Dylan backed down. I sighed. “Sorry, man,” I apologized. “I’m just…nervous about tomorrow.”

  “You haven’t met the girl yet?”

  “Her parents, yes. Echo, no.”

  “What the hell kind of name is Echo anyway?” Dylan asked with a laugh.

  I shrugged. I’d wondered the same thing myself. “They’re the kind of rich where no one cares what their first names are, only their last name.”

  “Is she hot?”

  “Don’t know. But probably in an overdone way. At least, that was the impression I got from her mother. She looks like she’s had work done, and I wouldn’t put it past flashy people like that to let their kid do stuff like that to themselves. Like Missy.”

  Missy Banks had technically been my first love. I’d had girlfriends before, but nothing like that all-consuming shit. Granted, it was also my first time away from home, so the college environment had likely amplified the connection. She was beautiful, smart, and compassionate.

  The only problem was, her parents’ first visit to school had been the beginning of the end. The break before the spring semester, they’d come to pick her up from campus.

  That strained ten minutes had been my first inclination that Missy and I didn’t have all that much in common. Her father had practically screamed wealth, from his Rolex to his Maserati. I had had a hell of a time reconciling the sweet girl who lived in her Old Navy yoga pants to one that was related to that guy. The kicker was, her dad was a completely self-made guy. But he’d taken one look at me and decided I wasn’t good enough for Missy. He’d actually offered to pay both my and Alex’s entire tuition, just to get me to stay the hell away from her.

  When that hadn’t worked, he’d threatened to cut her off, which hadn’t meant anything for her day-to-day life, but Missy had an Achilles heel. She loved to travel, and thanks to Daddy Warbucks she could do it in style. That had been the end of that. And the girl I’d thought was the love of my life was gone.

  The whole thing had scared me enough to make me gun shy about relationships. Trust was hard to come by these days, when it came to women.

  “And you’re supposed to train her to run?”

  “She’s raced all her life. They’re paying me to get her into the Olympics and take home a medal.”

  “And how’re you gonna do that? Not like you’ve ever done it before.”

  I grimaced at the hit, and continued to pull plates and other kitchen stuff out of the box on the counter.

  “I had injuries, true,” I admitted. “But I also have degrees in sports science and sports psychology. And when I was an assistant coach, I took three kids to All State championships and Junior Olympics. I can only help her so much with technique and various strength and endurance trainings, but it’s the mental training that can make or break these kinds of athletes. Especially where she’ll be competing against the best in the world. Dealing with the pressure, physically and emotionally. She’s got a decent pedigree, given who her father and grandparents are, but they haven’t put the resources into her that they have into her brothers, and there’s no telling what that kind of coddling might have done to her.”

  “You think she’s been coddled?”

  “Her parents were the ones who hired me,” I pointed out. “If she were really invested in a venture like this, don’t you think she’d have hired me herself?”

  Dylan nodded with understanding. “Maybe…or maybe since they’re paying, she thought it would be better for them to find someone they were willing to spend their money on. Besides, as you said, her grandparents being who they are, she probably figured they had connections.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to wait to make up my mind about her until I see her and watch what she can do then,” I conceded. “But even just getting her into the Olympics will make my career. Now, if she wins…”

  8

  Echo

  Two days after our night out, Jen was still pushing me for details on my night with Cole, but I didn’t want to share more than just the vaguest details. Three times and each time was amazing, the last time somehow better than the first. It was the emotional connection stuff I didn’t know how to navigate.

  “See, I told you this would help,” Jen had said, before sending me home the next morning. “And you don’t have to worry about seeing him again. No muss, no fuss.”

  “Okay, Jen, I’ll say it. You were right. Thanks for taking me out and wish me luck with the trials ahead,” I told my friend as I hugged her goodbye.

  “Call me as soon as you’re done with the meet-and-greet with your new coach,” Jen instructed. “Did your parents even tell you the guy’s name?”

  I rolled my eyes as I shifted my bag on my shoulder. “Nope. It’s a ‘surprise’, apparently. I don’t know. Unless it’s some big name, I’d have to look him up to figure out who he is. And if it were a big name, it would already have gotten out to the press, and I’d be dealing with people asking about Gramps and ‘following in his footsteps’ and all that crap.”

  “Probably. Well, good luck with it all, and if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to admit to Jen just how tempted I was to see Cole again. I knew where to find him. But the fact that he thought I was someone else ensured that I couldn’t make the effort. And after a few days, maybe I needed to leave it alone. It was a special memory, but I couldn’t really go there again. Whatever else might happen, I would always have those hours with Cole to remind me that I was desirable for more than just my name. That someone cared about what I thought.

  Just thinking about him was enough to make me flush. But I didn’t have time for that now. Fantasy over. Real-life time.

  There had been some debate about where the initial meeting should take place. At the estate, or maybe somewhere more public? Or, in the spirit of our goals, should we all head straight to the nearby athletics club where most of my coaching would happen?

  In the end, it had been decided that we’d meet up at the athletics club, which had a restaurant on-site for members. Then, once introductions were made, my mom and dad would leave for one of his appointments, letting me and the new coach go over my training schedule on our own. When my father’s appointment was over, they would pick me up again on their way home and no one would be any wiser.

  I swallowed my objections to keeping the others in the dark and dressed for a lunch at the club, packing my running clothes and shoes into a duffel bag, just in case. What was a little lying and secret-keeping between family?

  When we arrived, I quickly excused myself and ran down to the locker room to stow the bag and do a final check to calm my nerves and put on the brave face I knew my parents were expecting. You can do this, Echo. For Dad.

  Coming into the small and intimate club dining room, I searched for my parents, and spotted them in the corner. A dark-headed man had his back to me, as he leaned across the table to shake my father’s hand. I was about to step towards the table, when a waiter appeared to address the trio, and the guy turned to listen.

  Holy fuckballs on a cracker. I froze, even as my heart hammered a tattoo on my ribs. Cole. My new coach was fucking Cole?

  I was sure it was him. The tilt of his head, his crooked smile. My hand shot to the place on my neck where I was still using concealer to even out the tone of my skin and a higher collar to cover up the hickey he’d given me.

  It’s not possible, I told myself, as I watched my parents’ attention shift back to him when the waiter headed for the kitchen. The fancy job he’d been out celebrating was with my damn family. The person he loathed, the one he was dreading working for…was me.

  Disappointment swept through me, but I quickly tamped it down. There would be time to process those feelings later, with a call to Jen for emotional support. Right now, I was running late. And they were waiting.

  Drawing back my shoulders, I forced my mouth into a nervous smile, more nervous than it might have been if it was anyone else sitting with my parents at that table. I was halfway across the dining room when my mother spotted me and signaled my approach. My gaze immediately went to Cole.

  It hurt to watch and recognize each emotion as it passed over his face. Curiosity turned to excitement, then recognition. Which rapidly turned to hurt. And then obvious anger took over. But he managed to force his features into a polite smile by the time our hands met.

  “Echo, this is Cole Jackson,” my mother introduced them. “Cole, this is our daughter, Echo.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Cole,” I said, keeping my voice calm and neutral. At least, I hoped I sounded calm, and not like I was adrift in a hurricane of emotion.

  He narrowed his gaze, and nodded. His smile was controlled. But I felt every bit of anger in his gaze. I remembered his warm, dark eyes and the way they’d watched me as we moved together on the dance floor at the bar. The way his eyes lit when they danced with mischief as he teased me in bed. The lust and need that laced through them as he watched me in the mirror.

  I’d clung to the tenderness that flooded through me at the thought of his eyes looking at me, but now… I couldn't recognize myself in them. They were cold, hard, and accusing. I slid my gaze away.

  My parents resumed their seats next to each other, leaving me with no choice but to sit beside Cole. I settled into my chair and grabbed a menu so I wouldn’t have to look at anyone and could recompose myself.

  “Sorry I was a little late,” I said, as I glanced over the options. Usually I ordered the same pasta dish every time we came here, but seeing Cole, I wasn’t sure I could handle something so heavy and rich. I was afraid it would either come right back up the first chance it got, or sit like concrete in my stomach.

  “We ordered your usual for you,” my father explained, reaching over and taking my menu from me like I was a child. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  I forced a smile. “Of course not, Dad.”

  “Cole was just telling us about his big move to the area,” Mom said.

  “Yes, I stayed with a friend while I found an apartment of my own, and I’ve just finished unpacking. It’s a small place, but it will work for me.” His glare bore singed patches into my skin as he spoke.

  “I’m sure it’s lovely,” I said with a saccharine smile. He was baiting me, but I meant the sentiment. His place might not be the estate, but it was more than I’d ever had to call my own.

  “Enough about me, though,” he declared. “What about you, Echo? I’d like to know more about your running history. What got you started, and what kinds of events do you usually take part in? With your family’s legacy, especially in the Olympics, I would have thought you’d have tried making the cut sooner than this.”

  Each time he used my name, it was like he was jabbing me with a strategically placed pin.

  “I started running with my grandfather, actually,” I confessed. “After he retired from football and started the store, he did a number of charity runs. I wanted to do them, too, so he let me run with him while he trained.”

  “So you haven’t really competed much.”

  “Echo ran track all through high school and college. She was an NCAA champ for SDU,” my mother interjected.

  Dad added with pride, “Echo studied business so she could get some practical experience with the company at the same time, while juggling that grueling meet schedule. I’m hoping she’ll think of going back for her MBA after the Olympics.”

  I smiled weakly at my father. I had briefly floated the idea of going back to school for another degree in front of them, when I’d applied to design school. I hadn’t realized he thought I was talking about getting an MBA.

  “And since you graduated you haven’t competed at all?” Cole asked, a note of judgment evident in his voice.

  “She has been a tremendous assistance to the company’s charity efforts,” my father continued, answering for me again. I knew he was trying to help, but I wished he’d let me speak for myself. “We encourage our branches to urge their workers to engage in their communities at all levels, and sponsor community-building events, especially charity runs.”

  “Echo has done an excellent job of representing the family by taking part in 5Ks, 10Ks, and walk-a-thons, and she’s even completed several marathons as part of the Legacy Sports sponsored teams,” Mom listed with pride. “She’s helped raise millions.”

  “But you haven’t run these races competitively?” Cole emphasized.

  “No,” I responded. “When I’m representing the company and it is a charity event, I want that to be the only thing people are focusing on. It is the point, after all, bringing awareness and donations to various causes, as opposed to attention to myself.”

  “Perhaps,” Cole conceded, without making it sound like he agreed with that perspective at all. “But whatever you’ve done in the past, you’re going to have to make changes from now on, if you’re serious about qualifying for the Olympics. Especially at your age. Most people are looking to this during their college years.”

  “How about we leave the business side of things for the two of you to work out on your own?” Dad suggested. The waiter appeared with a tray bearing our drinks.

  Before I could take a sip of the soda in my glass, Cole picked it up for the waiter to take back to the kitchen.

  “You’re going to need to adjust your diet starting immediately,” he told me. “I’m afraid I failed to ask what your ‘usual’ was when your father ordered,” he said, with what I suspected was supposed to sound like a self-deprecating laugh. “Admittedly, not the best foot to start on as your coach and trainer.”

  I glared at him. I needed the sugar hit to keep it together right now. My mother asked the waiter to stop and set the drink back down.

  “Nonsense,” she insisted. “You’re Echo’s coach now, true. But training can start after we’ve enjoyed lunch. We need to celebrate, after all.”

  I watched Cole carefully, and recalled his comments about the reservations he had concerning his upcoming job. I knew that this was exactly what he’d been afraid of. His authority and professionalism not being respected, being pressured to bow beneath the wishes of his new employers, simply because they could fire him at any minute.

  I also knew my mother’s actions came from a place of trying to be agreeable. I didn’t want to inconvenience the staff of the club, when they had plenty of other people to wait on.

  I also wanted to keep things on schedule because of my dad’s doctor’s appointment. A doctor’s appointment Cole knew nothing about. But in Cole, I recognized the resentment of someone watching another command power and influence with no regard for him or what he thought or desired.

  And it left me staring at the glass of soda before me, watching the condensation dribbling down the glass, torn between two sides, neither of whom had asked me what I wanted to drink. With a sigh, I reached for the soda and took a polite sip, wishing the day could be over already.

  9

  Cole

  I physically vibrated as my emotions warred inside me. Right now, anger was winning. I thought the Coulters would never leave. I held my tongue when I saw the pasta dish the waiter set before Echo. She didn’t honestly eat like that regularly when she was planning on running right afterward, did she? At least it had chicken and vegetables as part of the meal, and she only finished about half of it.

  Wasteful, utterly wasteful, but then she hadn’t ordered it for herself, had she? Listening to her parents answering for her and ordering for her and watching her going along with it all was making me nauseated.

  When we’d been together, she’d been far more independent. Right now she was acting like…Missy. I wanted take-charge Cece, who’d brought my head back down to her wet lips and asked for what she wanted.

  Shit. No. I couldn’t think about her the way she’d been with me that night, because it wasn’t really her. The whole thing had been a lie. She’d probably done it specifically to throw me off my game, to have something she could hold over me, use to undermine me. Forget design school or whatever that load of crap had been, Echo Coulter should’ve been an actress for how well she’d had me fooled, and quite dedicated to the role she’d played as well.