SCORE (A Stepbrother Sports Romance) (42 page)

I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t believe this was happening again. I kept my eyes shut tight; all I could see was the look on my mother’s face when she took that call about my dad. I heard the announcer confirming it was James, saying they had no idea what had gone wrong or how such a big crash could happen on the formation lap. The marshals were tending to him and the ambulance had been dispatched, the announcer continued, and obviously, the start of the race would have to be delayed.

Fuck them! James was lying hurt or dead and all they cared about was a late start? I knew there was a reason I hated this so-called sport. I didn’t realize it, but I sobbed into Keith’s shirt. He had an arm around me and stroked my back, telling me James was going to be okay.

“Come on,” he said finally and almost carried me over to one of the pit officials who agreed to take us in his golf buggy to the medical center over by the control tower.

The ambulance was twenty minutes away. We waited by the door and heard the race start as the paramedics pulled up. They opened the van door and pulled out the stretcher with James on it. He still had his helmet on, so I couldn’t see if he was awake or even alive, but they’d also put a neck brace on him, which I didn’t think they would bother with if he were dead.

We followed him and his attendants in, just like they did on TV, and they told us to wait outside so they could do their jobs. An agonizing ten minutes followed. I banged on the doors and Keith tried to calm me before the circuit doctor appeared and approached us. My mind was close to shattering. What if he was paralyzed? Brain damaged? Comatose? I pictured us older, me having to spoon-feed his bed-bound body. Was I invested enough to spend the rest of my life taking care of him? I was a total mess, and I just wanted to run back to Austin and cry for a month.

The doctor had a pained look on his face, and I steeled myself for the worst.

“James has been very lucky,” he said. Both Keith and I let out a breath we didn’t know we were holding. The doctor continued, “He was knocked unconscious. He’s awake now, but he has a concussion. It looks like he may have fractured his left wrist and shoulder, but we’ll need some x-rays to confirm. It looks like nothing that won’t mend. Like I said, he was lucky.”

“Thank god.” I felt such relief that all I could manage was a rough croak. “Can we see him?”

“Not just now. Let us treat him first and make sure there is no more serious damage. Right now, he needs to rest from the bang on his head. We’ll call you in a little while so you can visit.” The doctor’s Spanish accent was strong, but his English impeccable. His manner was a little too professional, though. He delivered his news and immediately turned on his heel and vanished back into the triage room. I turned to Keith.

“It was Suzi,” I hissed at him. “Suzi and Blake. She told him to cause James’s crash, I know it.”

“Even if you’re right”—Keith seemed to be thinking aloud—“there’s nothing we can do about it. There’s no proof, and if anything was caught on film, it would just look like a racing incident.”

“That may be true,” I said. “But it’s not going to stop me from confronting her.”

The medical staff told us James needed to rest, so I made Keith take me back to the pits. I left him in the garage and stalked off to find that bitch, Suzi.

I spied Blake as I neared his garage. I was angry, but I needed to keep control. This didn’t need to turn into an episode of
Jerry Springer
. He still had his leathers on, the race only just over, and he looked gross, sweaty, and even uglier than the last time I saw him. He was heading for his trailer and didn’t notice me until I spoke.

“Did she make good on her deal yet?” I asked him. He jolted around in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he responded, clearly flustered. His lack of confidence showed that talking to women was definitely not one of his most practiced pastimes.

“Suzi? Did you get your reward, or do you think she’s waiting in your trailer for you?”

“Listen,” he protested. “I don’t know what you think you’re talking about…”

“I’d catch up with her quick if I were you.” I gave him a sarcastic smile. “If you really want everything you were promised, don’t let her jerk you around or she’ll be out of here before you know it. That’s just some free advice.”

I walked off, leaving him fumbling for a comeback. I wanted to make sure he acted as I thought he would. After a few paces, I looked back; he had diverted from his previous course and was headed to one of the sponsor hospitality areas. Following him at a discreet distance, I saw him walk up to the table where Suzi sat. He took her aside, and they talked. He looked like he was demanding something, and she appeared reluctant to go along with whatever he was saying. Then he got angry, and she did not look happy. He must have made some threat of dire consequences because, as he turned to leave, she unenthusiastically gestured for him to come with her. I trailed them to a parked car and watched them get into the back seat.

I just had time to pull out my phone and start videoing. It was a little difficult to keep it steady with the zoom maxed out, but I managed to capture Blake leaning back in his seat and Suzi, looking pretty unhappy, ducking her head down into his lap. I could just see the back of her head bob up and down a few times before Blake closed his eyes and threw his head back. Suzi sat back up quickly, wiping her mouth, and got out of the car without a word.

I headed back to the pits, too, chuckling to myself.

***

Later that afternoon, Keith and I sat around James’s bed in the medical center. He drifted in and out of consciousness a couple of times but didn’t really register our presence. He looked frail, with dark purple circles forming his eyes, presumably from hitting his head. His wrist wasn’t broken, but his shoulder had a break at the clavicle, or collarbone, that was a common injury among bike racers. It was the bang to the head that worried everyone. As of yet, we’d not been able to determine if anything—like his memory, speech centers, motor control, and so on—had been impaired.

I wanted him to wake up. I needed to know he was okay. I couldn’t even pretend things would be good if he wasn’t all right. I moved my chair closer and held his hand. It was soft, warm, and dry, and I would give everything I had or ever would have for him to touch me again. I trembled, and there was a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow, but I wasn’t going to cry. I needed to be strong, and above all, look beautiful for him when he opened his eyes. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. I turned to sit back down and heard a moan.

“Mmm…cotton…candy,” James croaked.

I stayed standing, leaning closer. His eyes blinked slowly open. He seemed to see me, and I saw a smile cross his lips. “Hi, baby,” I said softly.

“Summer,” he whispered. “Wow, I was having the best dream. You were going down on me…”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Keith remarked uncomfortably. I said nothing. I just smiled as a single tear escaped, rolling down my cheek. He was okay.

“Summer, why is Keith in our hotel room?” James wheezed.

I burst out laughing. “Who do you think you are, Dean Martin?”

He reached up and touched the tear stain on my cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“You were in an accident.” I tried to sound chirpy, to hide the tremble of tears of relief that threatened. “You’re in the med center, but you’re going to be fine.”

“Accident?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. That’s two bikes you’ve wrecked this weekend, you prat,” complained Keith. “Ray is going spare.”

“Tell him to kiss my black and blue ass,” James replied.

“Will do,” Keith grinned. “I’ll leave you two alone and go tell everyone you’ll live. Even Rossi was asking about you.”

“Tell him I’m honored.” He was a little more awake now. “Who won the race?”

“He did.”

Keith left the room to spread the good news. I sat, still holding his hand. Despite my resolve, I couldn’t stop another tear that rolled down my face.

“It’s okay, Summer,” he reassured me. “But whatever they’ve got me on, get them to give me some to take home, because…Wow!”

“You asshole,” I spat at him. “Do you know how worried I was?”

“I can only imagine”—he reached up to brush away the single tear—“and I’m so sorry. But I’m going to be fine. Here, pull that sheet back and hop on! I’ll show you how fine I’ll be!”

That made me laugh. Sure, he was high on painkillers, but the color was returning to his cheeks and his eyes were bright again. Even his voice sounded more awake. His lips were dry and his voice sounded labored, so I held a small beaker with a straw in it up to his mouth so he could sip some water.

“I thought you were dead for a minute,” I told him, “and I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

“I don’t even remember what happened,” he said.

I filled him in on what we thought Blake did and that I was sure Suzi was behind it. I decided not to tell him about the video, though. Not yet.

“Man, that’s fucked up,” he said. “Who knew she’d be such a psycho?”

“Yeah, anyway,” I said, “we’re flying back tomorrow. But we still haven’t decided exactly where you and I will fly to.”

“I thought about that. Tell me, you do own a bikini, don’t you?”

James

A day later, we touched down on the two-square-mile island of Mustique in the West Indies, about eighty miles west of Barbados. Summer was thrilled by the little single-engine plane we took from Barbados International Airport, and even though we’d just done an eleven-hour long haul from Buenos Ares, she looked impossibly fresh and stunning.

We were here because we couldn’t agree on how to move forward. I owned a villa on this tiny billionaire’s playground, along with people like Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, and the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. My particular place had been built, lived in, and previously owned by David Bowie. It was basically a group of interconnected, Indonesian-themed pavilions built up in the hills over some small ponds and a pool. It was secluded, tranquil, surrounded by greenery, and utterly beautiful.

I hated being on painkillers; I was pretty out of it and Summer had to fend for herself, take care of me, and find out where everything was for the first day or so. However, judging from her reaction on arrival, she wasn’t too upset about it.

On the third day, I woke up alone. I had to sleep sitting up because my left arm was strapped up so my shoulder could heal, but on this morning, the pain was bearable enough that I thought I could get by on aspirin.

It was near 11:00 a.m. and the sun outside was shining down from a deep blue sky, casting magically sparkling ripples across the pool outside. I put on some loose linen shorts and a thin white shirt—slipping only one arm in, obviously, and pulling the other side over my shoulder—before I wandered out to find Summer. I found this goddess lying naked and face down in the sun next to the wet bar. Her hair was as long and dark as usual, but damp and tousled from swimming. Her magnificent body had turned a wonderful coppery-brown and shined from sweet-scented oils and the tiny beads of sweat that tickled seductively along her curves. I instantly felt my cock start to firm up at the sight.

“I have never seen anything sexier or more beautiful in my life,” I said breathlessly as I approached her slowly. “I guess this means you don’t own a bikini, after all.”

“Mm, morning.” I heard her lips curl into a relaxed grin around the words. She turned her head to face me. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am,” I told her. “Thanks in no small way to finding you like this.”

I crouched beside her, doing my best not to block the golden rays that illuminated her radiant skin.

“Oh really?” She lifted her head and smiled temptingly at me. “Poor baby, it’s been two days. You must be so horny. I know I am. I would be lying if I said I didn’t start without you.” She licked the first two fingers of her right hand slowly, and it was the hottest, naughtiest thing I’d ever seen.

Before I could ask her, she pushed me—shorts, shirt and sandals—into the pool. The water was cool, but my shoulder straps were now ruined. I stood in the water, not knowing quite what to say, when she got up off the low recliner and slipped into the pool in front of me. She pushed my undone shirt off me, off the one arm that was in its sleeve, then edged closer and leaned her head back so I could kiss her mouth. I could feel my dick bursting to be let loose from its linen cage, and Summer, always able to tell exactly what I wanted, ran her fingers down my wet chest, over my stomach, and attacked the fastenings on my shorts.

I ran my movable hand all over her hot, oily breasts and tasted the salt around her lips from baking in the sun. She reached around to push the floating shorts down over my butt, then brought a hand around and took my shaft in her eager hand. I was rock hard, so her delicate touch made me gasp and my knees go slightly weak. The water lapped around our waists as she pulled me, by the cock, back to the edge of the pool.

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” she breathed, turning around to grip the pool edge. She wiggled her submerged butt delicately at me. “Please, just do it, hard and fast.”

I didn’t need telling again. I pushed two fingers into her pussy. She moaned at the contact, and I could feel the thick slickness of her juices even though she was under water. Impatiently, she grabbed my dick again and pulled it towards her hole.