Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) Read online

  “This was a favor to you, Sawyer,” Michael bit out. “And it’s over now. Consider it a wash.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re… whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

  “She got to you.”

  The next time he saw his agent, Michael was going to punch him.

  “So what if she did?”

  “It’s an act, you know,” Sawyer said softly. “Look, I like the girl. She’s different, and when she’s not injured or her mind isn’t off somewhere else, she’s a damn good tennis player. But at this point, she’s just clutching at the remnants of a dying career the wrong way. And if you’re not careful, she’ll take you down with her. Igor learned that the hard way.”

  “He doesn’t seem to be suffering any added stress from the whole thing,” Michael muttered. Hadn’t the guy just been featured in the latest ESPN The Magazine’s body issue? People salivated for that thing.

  “I underestimated her pull, thinking you might settle her down without getting hooked. But that’s not working, so we’ll try something else.”

  “It’s not like that. That’s not what this is. Don’t simplify everything in your mercenary vision, Sawyer. Not everything is about money or exposure.”

  “Okay.” His tone said, bullshit. “If she’s not there learning something from you, then I might as well have her come back.”

  “She’s got a system in place here now. Why doesn’t she just stay?”

  “Looks like someone doesn’t want his new play toy pulled away.”

  “Watch your ass, Sawyer, before you’re out a client,” Michael warned in a low voice. “Don’t mistake my calm for being a pushover. I’ve done a hell of a lot for you over the years. I’ve taken immature rookies and guided them into men who can play the game and keep out of trouble. I’ve pulled sophomore idiots from the brink of disaster. And I’ve kept myself in this game without any problems for a decade. I’ll be damned if you make me feel like an incompetent toddler because I don’t agree with your business moves.”

  “All right, all right.” All placating now, Sawyer said, “I’ll talk to her later. She’s an adult anyway… when she chooses to act like it. Ignore that,” he added when Michael growled again. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “No, I will.” God knew what Sawyer would say. At this point, Michael was ready to give the guy the boot himself. After a calming breath, he added, “She doesn’t know I called you. I’ll tell her later. She deserves to be told that face to face. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

  “Whatever you say, Lambert.” He heard the scorn in his agent’s tone and hung up thinking through a few things.

  Kat hurried around Diane at the bar, then waved Sissy down from across the room as she plunked two bottles of beer in front of a patron. Taking their money, cashing out and putting the extra in the tip jar by the register, she waited for Sissy to make her way through the crowd.

  “So many people have been asking me about you!” Sissy’s dark eyes lit up. “They all want to know if a real professional tennis player works here or if that was just more of Red’s bullshit, which everyone happily swallows with a smile anyway.”

  “She told everyone I was a national cheerleading champion,” Diane said as she walked by carrying two mugs of draft. “Never done a split in my life.”

  “Not without a spotter anyway,” Sissy added under her breath. From the way Diane flipped her off, it was clear her voice hadn’t been low enough. Sissy just laughed. Kat chuckled too.

  “Not paying you to gossip and bitch,” the redhead in mention said as she sailed by carrying a tray of empties. “Siss, get your ass out there and start bussing glasses, or we’ll run out. Hot damn, it’s hopping early tonight. We’re gonna hit capacity before ten at this rate.”

  “All thanks to our sweet Kitten.” Diane gave her a smile and batted her lashes.

  Kat just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, even athletes need money to live. Let’s start making some money, ladies.”

  “Here, here,” Red said loudly, pushing through the double doors to get back to the dishwashing area.

  “Really though, why do you work here?” Diane bumped shoulders with Kat as she reached into the nearby cooler for some more beer bottles.

  “I just need the money. Long dry spell.” She turned to greet the next patron at the bar. “Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

  “Two whiskeys for my friend and I.” The man leaned his elbows on the bar top, smiling easily. He had a sort of hipster vibe, with a plaid shirt and thick-framed glasses, messy hair and, if her calculations were correct, skinny jeans. Not really her type but cute for some people. Not unattractive by any means. “And we’d be happy to buy you a shot if you’d join us.”

  “On the clock,” she said automatically, adding in a friendly smile as she always did. Patrons offering to drink with her wasn’t uncommon. And though Red had made it clear she didn’t give a crap if the servers partook as long as they stayed sober enough to count out change, check an ID and pour a drink, Kat just wasn’t much of a drinker.

  There was probably an article somewhere that refuted that claim. Slut and lush tended to go hand in hand when people were thumping Bibles… or just judgment.

  “You’re the tennis player, right?” The customer edged forward, almost leaning on the bar as if to get a better look over it. Looking at her legs, she realized. “No skirt?”

  “At the dry cleaners,” she said tightly, passing him two whiskeys. She gave him the price, he tipped lavishly, then didn’t move. After popping the tip in the jar and serving another drive-by patron a bottle, she looked back. “Something wrong with the drink?”

  “No, I’m sure it’s fine.” He took a small sip, then nodded. “Great.”

  “Good.” She hesitated, hands on her hips. “Anything else?”

  “Just wondering what time you got off work.”

  “Whenever I’m cut. Sorry, I’ve got to get these,” she added as the receipt from the back room started printing off a drink order from one of the two runners out on the floor. “Enjoy the drinks,” she added as a good-bye.

  He tipped the glass to her in salute, then disappeared into the crowd.

  “You know, we could make a killing if you’d wear one.”

  Kat turned to Diane as she started to pull a local draft. “Sorry, what?”

  Diane flipped her blond ponytail over her shoulder and leaned in. “If I wore a cheerleading costume, and you wore one of those little tennis skirts… we’d be millionaires by morning.”

  “Not really what I’m shooting for, but thanks.” She gave Diane a small smile to ease the sting. “Sorry, I just mean I need to focus on tennis. I like working here, and it’s fun to dance around and blow off steam on the bar during lip-sync battles or whatever. But I don’t actually want to pick up guys.”

  “Coulda fooled me.” Diane shrugged, making Kat wonder what the hell that meant.

  “So this is where you go when tennis isn’t on your mind.”

  She turned, mentally guarding herself for another unwanted suitor, and found Gary sitting on a barstool. His Hawaiian shirt stood out in the crowd of sequins and dark clothing, and his age alone put him nearly double the average customer.

  “Gary, hey.” She held up a finger, then finished the order and trayed it for when Sissy came back for it. Wiping her hands on her bar towel, she approached. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m just here to see what my player is up to when she’s not at practice.” Gary glanced around the bar, his expression completely neutral. “Interesting.”

  Somehow she had a feeling interesting was code for what the hell? “It’s a good place to work,” she defended. “Easy money, which I need right now.”

  “Afraid of being forgotten,” Gary said again, and she felt her fists ball in response.

  “Nobody’s forgotten me, so I’m not sure how I could be scared of it anyway. But regardless, I don’t have the sponsorships to keep me going without a job. I need
to eat. It’s just the way it goes.”

  “You could have asked me. We’ve got spaces open for another instructor.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it again for a moment. “Gary, I’ve got to finish my shift.”

  He patted the bar top gently. “I guess if you’re exhausted for tomorrow’s practice, I’ll know why. Good luck.” Then he was gone, leaving Kat feeling like she’d had an argument with a ghost.

  And lost.

  Just then, someone sat in the seat Gary vacated, and when she looked up, she saw Michael watching her intently.

  Watching out for her.

  And she didn’t feel like she’d lost anymore.

  Later that night, after she’d come home and washed the smell of beer and pretzels off her skin, Kat found herself over in Michael’s apartment. In his bed. Naked.

  But not having sex.

  She ran the toe of one foot up and down his shin, liking the way the rough hair tickled her skin.

  “You’ve got me over here, naked, and you just want to cuddle?”

  “Mmm.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter and pulled her in. Her nose bumped his chest, and she breathed in deeply. Clean, warm male, fresh sheets… perfect.

  She could exist in this warm cocoon for a long time, happily unaffected by the outside world.

  “You need to call Sawyer tomorrow.”

  Pop! goes the cocoon.

  “Why?”

  “I called and told him I couldn’t mentor you anymore.”

  “You did what?” She sat up, bringing the sheet with her automatically, a shield of some sorts. “Why would you do that? You’re kicking me to the curb? What the hell?”

  Michael watched her cautiously, like one might watch a feral cat that got into your garage. “I can’t mentor you,” he said slowly, “because we’re involved. That’s not right.”

  “I wasn’t paying you or anything. What does that matter?”

  “It matters… because. It just does. It matters to me. It feels wrong. Come here.”

  She resisted when his hands reached for her. “I need to know why. Do you want me to leave? Are you tired of me being here?”

  “Baby, who did a number on your head?” he whispered, then pulled her to him before she could stop him. His lips trailed over her temple, into her hair, ignoring that she stiffened against him. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’m not tired of you. I want you to stay if you can. You’ve got a good setup with De’Shawn and Gary.”

  “And Thomas,” she added.

  “And Thomas,” he repeated through his teeth. “I’m not asking you to leave that. I’m just saying… I’m not responsible for you. No more manny.”

  “But all the jokes,” she protested on a sigh. “So many wasted opportunities.”

  “Deal with it.” His suggestion hung in the air, but she could tell there was more.

  “What?”

  “Have you considered… trying a new agent?”

  Kat rolled her eyes. “Nobody would want me. I’m damaged goods, literally and figuratively. I’m an injury waiting to happen, and I’m ‘unpredictable.’ Plus that whole tape thing…”

  “One of those things you can fix, you know. The unpredictable bit can taper off.” He resettled her against him, skin to skin, his arm cushioning her head, lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. “Why do you really go out of your way to shock people?”

  “I don’t ever think I do.” She heard him huff in disbelief. “I don’t. The first one… the sex tape…” God, it made her stomach clench to think about it. “That wasn’t my fault. Yes, it was recorded on my phone, and yes, my phone sent it out. But that was Igor’s doing. Or someone working for him, or with him, I don’t know. He set up my phone, recorded us without me knowing, then used my phone days later when I was in the shower to put the video on my YouTube account. Once it was out…”

  “Damage done,” he said softly.

  “Damage done. He was a rising star, I was the girl who wasn’t playing as much as she should, thanks to injuries. Always easier to believe a winner. I didn’t see the point getting into a he-said, she-said argument with Igor publically, especially since he was so well loved on the circuit and I was still very much a nobody. So I dumped him. Which, naturally, he immediately put out there that he left me because of the video. I just… didn’t bother correcting him.”

  “But the dancing on the court when you should be resting between games, the goofy stunts at press conferences, the dancing on the bar at Sin’s Inn, the auction, grinding with Benny Bobcat… that’s you.”

  “Yes, it is.” She sighed. “I realized pretty fast that as much as I love this game, as much as I want to be great, I’m not meant to compete with the top ten. I made it to ten on a fluke two years ago, but I didn’t last long. I’m stuck in the thirties where nobody knows me, nobody has heard of me, and likely, nobody will with the way things are currently going.”

  He squeezed her shoulder in support but didn’t interrupt.

  “So… if I felt the urge to dance, why not? My career clearly isn’t making waves on its own merit, so a little attention for being goofy wouldn’t hurt. It worked, sort of. I got a few small endorsements from those stunts, though nothing to write home about. My coach in Florida, however…”

  “Yeah?”

  “He just assumes every mistake I make on the court can be traced back to my ‘party girl’ ways. That I’m some sort of nomadic slut making my way around town, partying until three in the morning, and my eyes aren’t on the prize.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “I mean, realistically, I’m not Wimbledon finalist material. My body is breaking down. I should own stock in heating pads and menthol creams. I won’t last much longer in this sport… and then what? I won’t have a career as an announcer; those go to the big names, and I don’t have the right personality for it. I don’t have enough money socked away from endorsements to live on investments. I don’t have enough of a name to keep carrying on gaining new endorsements when I’m not active. So I move to… what? I have no skills outside of tennis.”

  “Coaching?”

  She huffed. “Never tried before.”

  “You might be good at it,” he said quietly.

  “Maybe.” She laughed. “Gary asked me to quit working at the bar and come give lessons instead. There’s no way I could make enough to live on doing that, but it’s a thought.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Maybe I’d get a discount on my own coaching too.”

  “Is that all you’d get out of it?”

  “Wow, you’re in an interrogative mood tonight.” She sat up on an elbow to look into his face. “Does this bother you? That I don’t mind the attention? That I sort of seek it out?”

  “Yes and no.” He sat up with her, kissing her gently, as if to soothe the blow that was about to come. “It bothers me you don’t have enough confidence in yourself, in your skill, to make it. But from the practical standpoint, I get having to look objectively at what life after the court looks like. I just wish…”

  She bumped his forehead with her own. “Don’t hold back now, Manny.”

  “I gave up that job. No more manny jokes.”

  “Habit.”

  “I just wish you didn’t have to do it this way. I feel like you’re devaluing yourself when you act like a ditz.”

  “The only one who can devalue myself is me.” She shrugged when he raised a brow. “Modified Eleanor Roosevelt quote. The point is, it’s my life, and I’m living it.”

  “And if fewer opportunities come your way to play tennis because of it?”

  She sucked in a breath, because that was the sword edge she danced on. Being noticed and being picked up for money-paying endorsements… at the risk of being dropped in tournaments.

  “I’ll… figure it out.”

  He kissed her gently. “Or you could just keep playing your best, stop worrying about making a name for yourself, stay as healthy as you can, and let someone else worry about the mone
y.”

  “Oh, good. Has the money elf come by today?” She grinned at him when he rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown-up. I have to worry about my own money.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something but held back. “I just want you to have the best chance.”

  Cupping his face in both hands, she got up on her knees and planted a hard, smacking kiss on his mouth. “And that is what makes you a great mentor. Perfect, even. Unofficially,” she added, to cut off his protests. “Besides, you’re no stranger to goofy antics on camera.”

  He raised a brow in question.

  Kat leaned in close to his ear, knowing her breasts pressed against his chest as she did. “Thirty-two marshmallows,” she whispered, nipping his ear.

  “That rat,” he growled, flipping her over. “Aileen told you.”

  “I’ll never reveal my sources,” she said, bursting into laughter as his fingers tickled her ribs. “Never!”

  He mock growled and began nuzzling at her neck, making her squeal and roll away. He caught her and pulled her back for more.

  And Kat wondered if she’d ever been this happy.

  Chapter 18

  The next day, Michael managed to get his postpractice workout done early, then took off instead of staying around to shoot the breeze with his teammates like he normally did. He’d be spending an entire weekend, plus travel, with them coming up that weekend as they traveled to L.A. He had somewhere else to be, just for the moment.

  Because he’d seen Kat lift weights, and he’d seen her run and box, but he’d never actually seen Kat play.

  Really fucking play.

  And he knew, one athlete admiring another, that seeing someone lift or run was nothing like seeing them in their element, playing the sport that gave them a reason to live.

  He walked into the tennis center and was surprised at how quiet it was. He nearly wondered if he’d walked into a closed business for a moment before he was able to focus on the courts that were lit behind the glass window. He quickly identified the two on the court as Thomas, the dude from the other day, and Kat.