“Stay away from her,” he warned.
“You’re my coach and I’ll listen at practice. I’ll listen during the matches, but other than that I don’t give a fuck what you say.”
I slammed the door behind me.
8
Sierra
I stared at the television. There was a huge red blob sitting over top of Copacabana beach. From what I could pick out of the forecast, the storm wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. On the other side of the red were swirls of green. In any language I knew that meant more rain.
I sank onto the pillows on my bed and was hit with an overwhelming scent of Pierce. Holy shit, he smelled amazing. I thought about rolling my face into the pillow, but that woul
d basically put me in the same category as a thirteen-year-old girl.
I rolled on my side and watched the rain slide down the pane. I did the right thing kicking him out. There was no way I could treat him and remain neutral. Every nerve in my body was screaming out to pounce on him. That wasn’t professional or ethical.
I had to throw him out.
I jumped when I heard my phone beep. I picked it up from the table and read the text from Sergio.
Bella, join us for dinner.
I sighed. I wasn’t up for the dynamic duo. But maybe they would be a distraction from my room. I could only watch the weather for so long.
I typed back a quick message.
Where are you going?
Meet us downstairs.
They probably didn’t have an idea, but I’d tag along.
See you in five minutes.
I grabbed my purse and the set of keys I had received at check-in and locked the door as I headed for the lobby.
Sergio and Paulo were waiting for me near the front desk.
“Hey.” I waved.
“Ciao, bella.”
I leaned in for a customary kiss on each cheek from the guys.
“Any word on the match?” I asked.
“No,” they answered. “Too big of a storm.”
I had figured that would be the answer. As long as there was lightning they couldn’t put fans in aluminum seats.
“I guess we should eat then.” I smiled. I needed them to distract me. Food worked. Ridiculous Italian athletes worked. Anything other than seeing Pierce Miller and his irresistible blue eyes.
At least the one good thing about going out was that I could finally tell my parents I had seen a part of Rio other than the athletic venues. I tried to take a few pictures of the restaurant and the elaborate fruit displays. My mom would ohh and aww over those. She seemed disappointed every time I told her I was focused on work.
Sergio and Paulo sat on either side of me while I looked over the menu. I didn’t know much about Brazilian cuisine other than the meat was served in copious amounts.
“What are you guys ordering?” I asked.