Duke-ing It Out by Jami Albright
Duke
Neither of us have said a word for the last thirty miles. And before that, it was only a courteous hello and the most basic of niceties. I shouldn’t have told her that I didn’t close my eyes. Of course, I had, but it was too fun messing with her. Now, in the light of the day, that small untruth seems like a big mistake. I should tell her the truth. “About last night.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says to the scenery passing by her window.
“I didn’t lie.” I chuckle. “I mean, I did lie, but I lied about a different thing.”
Her head turns to me and the furrow of her brows is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I did close my eyes when you asked. I lied about not closing my eyes.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Seemed like a funny thing to do.”
I’m not crazy about the look on her face. “What? You, Mr. Do-Right, are fun?”
I lean my elbow on the door and rest my head in my hand. “I am fun.”
The snort that leaves her mouth is loud in the car’s interior. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“I am. Ask anyone.” I have no idea why I’m compelled to convince her of this, but it feels important for some reason.
Her eye roll would give any thirteen-year-old a run for their money. “Sure you are.”
“I am.” Now I sound like a bratty child trying to lie their way out of a problem.
“Listen, until roughly”—she checks the dashboard clock—“twenty-four hours ago, I had never seen you do one spontaneous or fun thing. It’s been all work, work, work. Get it done, Sienna. Get serious, Sienna. And my all-time favorite, you’re wasting your potential and my time, Sienna.”
“Okay, that’s not fair. That’s not all I’m about.”
She nods. “True. It’s also been one lecture after another. See my previous statement.” Her arms cross over her chest. “Honestly, I don’t mind the work. I like to work out, but the lectures are the worst. You could probably get a job as a middle school principal.” Her hand smooths her hair from her face, and she sits up taller in her seat. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman.”
Oh, I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed way too much in the last twenty-four hours.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I say under my breath. When I chance a look at her, I check her hands to make sure she hasn’t fashioned a shank out of her hairbrush. The look she gives me communicates she’d like nothing better than to cut me. I guess I didn’t say it under my breath enough. “Are you honestly going to argue with me? I’ve seen toddlers with more impulse control.”
Her elegant finger jabs toward my face. “That. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. That shit may work with your other clients, but it doesn’t work on me. It’s insulting.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “It’s only insulting because it’s true.”
“Pull over.” She points to a truck stop. “There.”
I whip the car into the parking lot. “Do you have to go to the bathroom again?”
“No.”
“Are you hungry?” I maneuver around an eighteen-wheeler and pull into a spot. “Because if you are, I’m sure we can find something healthier than convenience store food.”
She unbuckles her seatbelt and winces at the motion. “I don’t have to go to the bathroom, and I’m not hungry. I just don’t want to spend another minute with you.” She grabs her bag from behind my seat, with a grunt and another wince, and opens the car door. “Thanks for the ride, but I’ll figure it out from here.” The look on her face is pure murder.
“That.” I point at her like she did me. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” I parrot her words, and she blinks like a pissed-off owl.
“Not true. I’m taking control of my situation … like a grown-up.”
“No, you’re not. You’re running away from conflict just like you did with your dad yesterday, and I suspect, just like you always do.” I loop my wrist over the steering wheel and survey the truck stop. There’s a bus schedule on the door. For a second, I consider leaving her, because who the hell needs this drama?
I won’t.
I’m just not that guy.
But I’m not looking forward to the argument that’s ahead of me. I suck in a breath and ready myself for a fight, but before I can say a word, she climbs back into the car, and I stare at her.
“Just drive.” The words are meant for me, but they’re said to the windshield.
I don’t question her, only reverse the car and pull back onto the highway. It’s gonna be a long ride if we aren’t speaking to each other. My conscience rests heavy in my chest. I may have described her perfectly, but she wasn’t too far off the mark with me either. I’m not myself when I’m with her. Good ol’ boy, Duke, who doesn’t let his emotions control him and is everyone’s friend, turns into a guy who’s harsh and hard-nosed with this woman.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very serious about my job, and I get results, but part of my philosophy is to make working out fun. To see the positives in pushing your body to its limits. But all I’ve done with Sienna is ride her ass. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No need to apologize. You’re right. I do run away from things instead of confronting them.”
“Be that as it may, I’m apologizing for being … what did you call me? Mr. Do-Right? I have been harsh with you, and that’s not me. I’m not sure why I’ve done it, but I promise to fix the behavior.”
Her stunned expression is hilarious. Then she narrows her eyes. “And …”
“And, nothing.” I shove my fingers through my hair. I hate admitting I’m wrong. But I’ve learned to do it over the years when necessary. “I’ve made mistakes, and I’m going to fix them.”
Her arms cross again, and she’s chewing her plump bottom lip. And my brain short circuits. The memory of her against my chest slams into me like a tsunami. Who am I kidding? I haven’t been able to think of anything else since it happened. It’s true that I closed my eyes when she asked, but I’d gotten a glimpse of her beautiful, mouth-watering breasts before she fell into me. That little peep show continues to play on a nonstop loop in my brain.
I was surprised my chest didn’t go up in flames in those moments. The desire to pick her up and lay her across my bed had nearly demolished my ethical convictions. She’s a client, and I have a strict rule about dating clients. Of course, most of my clients are men, so that’s been an easy rule to follow until now.
I glance at the beautiful, infuriating woman in my passenger seat. She looks as vulnerable as a china doll. The complete opposite of the ball-busting Sienna Ramsey I’ve been dealing with for the last couple of months. Nope. I will not fall for this woman. I want to help her get back to tennis, even though she says she’s done. I want to make sure she has the option to return to it if that’s what she wants.
But that exposed expression is burned into my retinas, and there’s a direct line from my eyes to my heart.
Time to change the atmosphere in this vehicle. “So, we’re good?”
Her chin dips once. “We’re good.”
We drive on for several more miles without speaking. I flip on the car stereo. “What kind of music do you like?”
“You know, I’m not just a spoiled brat.”
Okaaaay, so much for changing the atmosphere in the car. “I didn’t say that.”
She pulls her leg up and turns to me. “No, but that’s what you think.”
“I don’t think that, Sienna. I think you’re a grown woman taking the path of least resistance with your father, but I don’t necessarily think you’re spoiled. You deserve to be treated with respect and have your wishes and needs heard.” I rub at the headache building behind my left eye with my free hand. “I also think it’s a shame that someone as talented as you would throw that away by not taking control of your life and career.”
Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth, and she picks at one of her nails. “It’s complicated. Our relationship has grown into something I don’t recognize. Yes, he storms through my boundaries like he’s raiding the castle, but he wasn’t always like that.”
“Tell me.”
She turns to face forward and closes her eyes like she’s gathering her thoughts. “My mom abandoned us when I was eight.”
I jerk my head in her direction. “I thought your mom died?”
Her attention stays on the road in front of us. “She did.”
“I’m confused. Why would you say she abandoned you if she died?”
Her white teeth worry her lip again. I’ve noticed she does that when she’s thinking. “She had an aggressive but potentially curable form of cancer. All she had to do was follow the treatment that the doctors prescribed. But she wouldn’t do it. She thought she knew better than the doctors and treated herself with homeopathic remedies. My dad and I begged her to follow the prescribed treatment, but she refused.” She shrugs. “She was dead in six months. As far as I’m concerned, she chose to die.”
I open my mouth and close it. There are literally no words. What do you say to that? A picture of an eight-year-old Sienna begging her mother to do what the doctors said to do so she wouldn’t die guts me.
An unwanted image of my own dad pulling out of our driveway when I was just a little older than her crashes into my thoughts. The sensation of someone reaching into my chest and pulling my heart from my body tries with all its might to yank me back to that time, but I resist. I lock my feelings down tight and do not open that Pandora’s box. I didn’t cry then and have never shed a tear over him since, just the opposite of the little pussy he thought I was.
I finally squeeze the phrase, “I’m sorry,” through my numb lips.
She grabs a hair tie she has wrapped around her wrist and pulls her hair into a messy bun on the side of her head. “It was a long time ago. The point is, if it weren’t for my dad, I wouldn’t have made it. He was great. I know he was devastated, but he kept up a brave face for me and put me back together, and one of the ways he did it was with tennis.” A sentimental smile spreads across her face. “Lord, I was terrible in the beginning.” Then a sad laugh escapes from her lips. “You’ll probably be shocked to find out that he was the best when I was a no-winning loser.”
“Robert Ramsey? A good loser?”
This time her laugh is more carefree. “Hard to believe, I know.”
“So, when did things change?”
“A few years after I won my first Junior National tournament when I was fifteen.” She stares at her clasped hands in her lap. “The changes in him were so subtle. It was like … I don’t know, like one day I woke up and he’d stopped being my dad and become my coach. If that makes sense? And things just got progressively worse with each passing season.”
“Wasn’t he always your coach?”
“Yeah, but tennis was what we did together to help us both cope with the grief of my mom’s death, and after that win, it was like he left me behind on this journey. It became more about the money and the endorsements than about tennis itself.” Her bun wobbles from side to side as she shakes her head. “It’s been that way ever since.”
“Do you even like tennis?” It’s not a question I’ve asked her before, but after hearing her now, it seems like I should’ve asked it long ago.
“I used to.” Her good shoulder rises and falls. “But now, I don’t know.”
“That’s an honest answer.”
“It’s all I’ve got.” She unties her jacket from around her waist and wads it up between her head and the car door. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. If you don’t need me to help you stay awake.”
“I’m good. Rest.”
After several miles her breathing evens out, and I can tell she’s asleep. I steal a look at her profile, and my heart does a funny stutter step in my chest. I’m always emotionally invested in my clients, but the kind of emotional attachment I’m feeling toward her is not good. Not good at all.
I need to be done with her. Because the worst possible thing has happened during this two-day drive. I’ve realized that I really like Sienna Ramsey.
I never thought I’d ever say this, but I can’t wait to get to Ryder, so I can dump her with my mom and Phil and be done with her.