Free In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) by Evie Anderson Page B

guy that had meant a lot more to her than Dalton ever had.
    Yep, he was attracted to Jessi. His reaction to Lemaitre’s presence couldn’t be explained as anything else. He’d just have to deal with it. Jessi was his swimmer, and his most important duty was to make sure she was in optimal shape when they headed to Canada. Beyond that, she wasn’t and couldn’t be anything more.
    With that settled, he turned around to find his own office. He couldn’t do a fucking thing about the two of them hanging out together. Still...he would be damned if he let Lemaitre weasel his sneaky little French ass into his best swimmer’s suit.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 10
     
     
    “Can you believe I’m working with Claudel for the next week?” Jessi stared dubiously at Dalton.
    “Trust me. Not my idea.” Dalton’s voice was gruff. His eyebrows were drawn in an annoyed scowl. He was all pissed off coach, which, unfortunately for her sanity, was kinda hot.
    “Well, then why am I doing it? Don’t you have the final say in my schedule?”
    Dalton tilted his head and gave her a look that simply said, “Really?”
    “I’ll take that as a no.”
    “Golden Boy and Allie seem to think it will be fine, so you’ll be meeting with him every afternoon after practice. If it’s messing with your swimming, just say so. I’ll figure out a way to pull the plug.” A hopeful look entered his eyes.
    Jessi couldn’t help but laugh at this man-child standing in front of her. He was sexy as hell and cute as a button all at the same time. It wasn’t fair, really. Shaking off these unhelpful thoughts, she patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Coach. I’ll be fine.”
    “Whatever,” Dalton huffed. He was clearly unhappy with the situation but coming to terms with it. “All right. I gotta go yell at some kids. Have fun with your interviews—and be good.” He pointed at her for emphasis.
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “I’m onto the bastard. I know what that little ass is up to. Don’t give him an inch.”
    Jessi giggled. “Really? Seriously?”
    Dalton didn’t say anything, just stared at her.
    “Okay, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”
    Dalton pursed his lips, then turned to leave. “Not your dad,” he sing-songed over his shoulder.
    Didn’t she know it. Jessi shook her head and headed for her interview. She wasn’t excited, but at the same time, she wasn’t as put out as Dalton was. As long as this didn’t mess up her schedule, she was good with it.
    Fifteen minutes later, she regretted ever laying eyes on Claudel Lemaitre. He’d been flirty before, but now, when they were alone, he was downright obnoxious. At the moment, Jessi was fending off a pair of dark blue bedroom eyes that peeked out of what were, admittedly, really good, shaggy blond bangs. She needed to ask Claudel where he was getting his hair cut—probably at some thousand-dollar-a-service spa located on the Spanish Mediterranean coast. Ugh.
    “I’m sorry, Claudel, I wasn’t listening. Can you repeat that?” Jessi asked.
    “You seem preoccupied, chéri .”
    “Knock it off with the accent, Claudel. It’s not like that right now,” Jessi replied with a scolding look. Despite Sawyer’s mocking criticism of Claudel’s voice, particularly when he watched film where Claudel was announcing, Claudel really didn’t have much of an accent when speaking English. He’d spent a lot of time in the States. The accent was for her benefit, or whomever he was trying to sleep with at any given moment. Given his current inability to pronounce consonants, the honor appeared to be all hers.
    Her annoyance surprised her a bit. Claudel had always been handsy. She had known that from the first day she’d met him. He had also always been particularly handsy with her. His flirting was nothing new. It shouldn’t bother her now at all. It was just...not Dalton’s flirting. Oh, shit.
    Claudel’s shoulders shook as he laughed to himself. Even that little movement