“I can’t.” She shook her head. “You better get inside and have someone take a look at that. You’re going to need ice and compression. Oh, and elevation. Definitely elevate it.”
“See? You do want to help,” I pressed.
She threw her bag over her shoulder, trying to get out of the rain. “I can’t help. It wouldn’t be right.”
Eric and Scott were busy talking to the officials. I heard some kind of a squabble over when we would finish the match. The tournament was tightly scheduled. We couldn’t push the other countries’ matches back today if the storm let up. We might have to play back-to-back tomorrow.
“Just give me five minutes,” I suggested. “You’ve already told me more than Larry could after two hours.”
“And how would that look?” she asked. “Sergio and Paulo would be pissed. Not to mention your coach.”
“They don’t have to know.” I winked. Hell, no one needed to know what I had planned for her.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?” she questioned.
“Never.”
Chapter Four
Sierra
God, what was I thinking? I was using the patriotic thing as an excuse. I knew it. There was no good reason for me to help Pierce Miller. He had amazing coaches and trainers at his disposal. He definitely didn’t need me. Somewhere in the back of my head I was trying to convince myself this was a way to help my country. There was rationale there, but I knew it wasn’t legitimate. Agreeing to help Pierce had nothing to do with my patriotism and everything to do with his rock-hard body.
The rain dripped off his tan, rippled muscles and one look in those eyes that were bluer than the Italian sea and I was putty in his hands.
The thunder crackled above us as if to warn me time was running out.
I had a split second to make this decision. He needed my help now.
I leaned toward him. “I’m staying in the fourth tower. Room seven-eight-one.” I didn’t know why I told him. Only that my sanity had been turned off.
I ran with my equipment bag, lugging it through the rain and searching for the rest of my team. Sergio and Paulo were huddled under the stands.
“Bella!” they called to me.
I ducked under Sergio’s arm. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Are we waiting for the storm to pass?”
There was nothing but heavy rainfall and black clouds around us. I couldn’t see it lifting any time soon.
“No. We are re-scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I tried to brush the wet hair from my temple. I was certain I looked like something that had washed up on the beach. My polo was stuck to my chest and my shoes were soaked.
Paulo smiled. “More time for a calf massage.”
“You need to hydrate.” I wagged my finger at him. “No more massages.”
He looked dejected, but I knew it was part of his flirty personality. The guys wore their emotions on their sleeves as part of a game. I never found sincerity with either one of them. I had thought at some point I would have broken through their antics. Broken through the jokes. Broken through the facades, but it never happened. Every day was like being in some kind of comedy sketch with these two.
“All right. Someone text me the schedule for tomorrow. I’ll be in my room.”
I felt a sudden urge to run back to the village. To be there in case Pierce showed up on my doorstep. But I searched the eyes of the men in front of me. I didn’t want to look anxious to leave. I wasn’t anxious to leave, was I? I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I should ask Sergio how his shoulder was. I should make sure Paulo had exactly what he needed. I should ask Coach Gio if there were any concerns before tomorrow, but the only thing I could think about was Pierce Miller and his damn knee.
As soon as he had rolled on his side in front of our bench I had instinctively bent to examine him. I didn’t think about whether Italy would interpret it as a traitorous move. I saw the volley baller in pain and reacted.
My fingers worked along his skin as he writhed in pain beneath my touch. The rain fell on my hands as I sought the source of pain. I knew the crowd was watching, but I didn’t care. I knew the cameras were on us, but I didn’t care. It didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was that his eyes were on me, and in that moment Pierce Miller needed me.
I watched the rain slide down the small square window in my room. The day had only become drearier since I’d left the arena. I took a hot shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top.