Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3) Read online

  "That makes two of us." I half growl the words and shoot a glare at Daisy, still not looking forward to this ordeal.

  Of course, Hunter chuckles like the almost-constant fucking sunshine he is and ignores me and my foul mood. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “That’s what I said,” Daisy says, unhelpful as ever.

  “Hmm.”

  Hunter turns to my sister and gives her a quick hug. “Hey, gorgeous. Are you here to bid on me?”

  She puts a finger to her mouth pretending to think really hard before she laughs. “Not really, but I mean . . . it’s for a good cause, right?”

  Is she checking him out? I think I’m going to puke.

  Hunter puffs out his chest. “It most certainly is.”

  I only manage to contain some of my groan.

  Why did I come here tonight? This isn’t my scene.

  Oh, that’s right. Because my sister begged me to be her plus-one so she didn’t have to show up by herself. I’m such a sucker.

  She’d planned this whole thing in secret because apparently, I’m being auctioned off tonight to one willing bidder. What a nightmare. I’d much rather be home watching a movie, or hanging out with my nephews.

  The line in front of me has steadily moved forward, one guy after the other being shown off on stage like a piece of meat. Now that I’m actually paying attention, I’m not sure what’s worse. Hunter openly flirting with my sister while I’m standing right next to them, or Cade Hartley—quarterback for the San Francisco Bears—strutting down the stage like he owns it.

  Wait a second, did Cade just . . .?

  Yup, he just shook his ass like he’s a damn Chippendale. And of course, the crowd’s eating it up, those paddles hitting the air like bras at a fucking boy-band concert.

  And it’s almost my turn. Well, they’ll be in for a big disappointment, especially after that little show. My minute on stage won’t be anything like his.

  I zone out this madness while still dutifully keeping up with the line.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  This is for a good cause. This is for a good cause.

  Yet again, the words turn into a chant in my head until someone slaps my ass.

  I don’t need to turn to know it’s Hunter, who’s already leaning closer to whisper in my ear.

  “Your turn, Noah. Show ’em how it’s done, tiger.” He and my sister chuckle and I ignore them.

  After another deep inhale that does absolutely nothing to calm my irritation, I make my way up to the stage and to the host.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Noah Winters. Our very own star swimmer and Olympic gold medalist. Insider sources tell us he’s also a master in the kitchen, knows how to rev up your engine, and enjoys getting a good sweat in.” He wiggles his eyebrows and the crowd eats it up, cheering and catcalling.

  Master in the kitchen? Since when?

  I send a silent promise of revenge to my sister that will most likely be happening in the form of obnoxiously loud and super messy toys for her boys at the next chance I get. The sooner, the better. Maybe I’ll go online the second I get done here to place a big order.

  The crowd calms down and the host proceeds to the actual bidding part. I lose track of the bids as I scan the crowd with my hands deep in my pockets and a scowl on my face. I'm not really looking for anything or anyone specific, but I stop when my eyes find the gorgeous mystery woman I saved from that asshole earlier.

  That dude clearly couldn’t take a hint if it hit him straight in the face. And there was no way I could stand by and watch him bother her, especially when it looked like he’d put his hands on her. No way in hell.

  And well, well, well . . . look at that. Her arm is in the air, that paddle as high as it can go. She’s bidding on me. Maybe this night won’t be as boring as I thought. Keep that arm up, Mystery Girl.

  The host yells, “Going, going, gone,” before he sends me off the stage to wait for further instructions. Hopefully, someone will enlighten me soon as I need to find my sister. My mystery woman made it a little better but still . . . The auction is for a good cause, sure, but a little warning would have been nice.

  Naturally, she’s disappeared.

  Instead, I’m forced to watch Hunter make a fool of himself on stage, striking poses and flexing for the crowd. His bidding goes on for what feels like hours, but I’m unable to tell who won with so many people—mostly women—having pushed closer for a good look.

  Just like I haven’t been able to see where my mystery woman has gone.

  I was hoping to talk to her some more after Daisy barged in on our conversation. I don’t even know her name, but it seems like I will get my chance now after all. Unless seeing her win my bid was a mirage of wishful thinking on my part.

  There was something about her, something that drew me in. It doesn’t surprise me that I found her in the crowd, yet I’m surprised how eager I suddenly am to go on our “date.”

  I haven’t felt like that for years.

  A woman—Debbie, according to her name tag—comes up to me and explains the reservations at different restaurants for the winners and that mine will take place next Saturday at Skates On The Bay, down by the marina. The highest bidder was already informed and will meet me there at six o’clock.

  Debbie gives me a look that I think means I’m excused, but I’m not ready to leave just yet. “What’s the winner’s name?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Winters. I can’t disclose that. I think she’s trying to maintain the secrecy, which sounds like you’re in for a fun night.”

  Although Debbie’s words are polite, I sense that she’s not really wanting to spend time educating a swimmer on the etiquette of bachelor auctions.

  It’s times like these that I need Hunter. He knows how to put the flirty on. “It will be a little strange turning up at the restaurant not knowing who will be there to meet me, don’t you think, Debbie?”

  She chuckles. “I hear you, and I’m sorry, but she asked if we could keep her name confidential at this moment. Actually, she was quite specific about it.”

  What the hell? Debbie smiles a sheepish smile and apologizes again. I can’t be mad at her. It’s for charity, Winters.

  After I say goodbye, I spot my sister across the room and hurry through the crowd to get to her, grabbing her arm gently before she can disappear again. “Look who we’ve got here.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Oh hey. You looked great up there, and your auction went super well. Congratulations.”

  What a bunch of horse shit.

  The mask is hiding most of her face, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure her right eyebrow is doing that traitorous twitchy thing it always does when she’s nervous or when she lies.

  I point my thumb to the side of the expansive room that offers more privacy. Her shoulders slump and she sighs dramatically.

  When we’re away from prying eyes and ears, I face her. “Want to tell me what the hell you were thinking signing me up for this bachelor auction? I’d have happily written an extra check instead of standing up there.”

  She blows a long breath through her lips. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But you’ve been so lonely lately, and I wanted to help.”

  I scowl at her. “Why on earth would you think I’m lonely?”

  “Noah, you’re hanging out with the boys and me more than usual.” Daisy takes a step closer and touches my arm, her voice lower than before. Soothing.

  My mouth opens but she holds up a finger.

  “Let me finish. We all love you. Mason and Alex say you’re their best friend—the best uncle—in the whole wide world, and I appreciate your support so much since Daniel and I divorced. But if you spend all of your time with us, how are you ever going to find someone special?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t need anyone special.”

  “I think you do though, and I think you know it too.” Her voice is so gentle, I hate it.

  Bec
ause I’m not looking for anyone.

  I don’t want anyone.

  I don’t need anyone.

  I haven’t needed anyone.

  Not since that night ten years ago.

  Three

  Chloe

  “He won’t know what hit him.” My mom’s mouth curves into what can only be called an indulgent mother’s smile as she stares back at me in the mirror—unapologetically blind and sweetly optimistic.

  But she’s right about the fact that Noah won’t know what hit him. It just won’t be the way she thinks it’s going to go down.

  I see it in her eyes, in the spark that’s inescapable when I lock gazes with her. She’s a believer in happily ever afters and second chances.

  This time for me.

  I’m a believer too, just not for me.

  As of right now, my main goal is to keep Noah at the restaurant long enough tonight to say what I want to say. To not have him leave the second he sees me. Even though I dare say my chances aren’t very good.

  Not that I blame him.

  I’ve tried putting myself in his shoes about five thousand times over the years. How would I have reacted if the roles were reversed? How would I react now?

  Would I be happy to see him? Shocked? Disgusted?

  Would I even give him the chance to talk to me?

  So many different options that make my head spin and my heart rate pick up in sync with my nerves.

  “Hey.” My mom grabs my chair by the back and spins it around before she crouches down so we’re eye level. “I think you’re incredibly brave for doing this. I know you’ve been carrying around a lot of guilt over how things ended with Noah, and I’m sure it doesn’t feel good. Guilt never does, and there’s probably a good reason for it. Your dad would be so proud of you.”

  My dad.

  Of course, she has to bring him up.

  He’s one of the reasons I moved back here with my mom, to follow through with the things I’d promised him. To take good care of my mom, of course. But also, to not have any regrets, to right past wrongs . . . to do the right thing.

  Why does it have to be so hard though?

  “Now, let’s suck it up and get you ready. Just because you’re about to beg the love of your life for forgiveness doesn’t mean you can’t look like the goddess you are.”

  “Ugh, Mom.” I sound every bit the petulant child I feel right now. “No one said anything about begging or love-of-my-life stuff.”

  “I know.” She presses a kiss to my temple before pushing back up and spinning my chair once more.

  We share a silent moment when our gazes meet in the vanity mirror. She knows how hard all of this is for me, especially my dad’s passing and making the decision to seek out Noah. It’s been over a year now since we lost Dad, but oftentimes, it still feels like it was just yesterday. And I know that bringing him up pierces her heart a little every time too.

  Things have slowly gotten better for us over the last few months. We’ve actually shared several moments where we laughed together about a memory of Dad instead of being sad. Those moments still don’t happen often, but they’ve definitely become more frequent.

  The bathroom door flies open and Francesco blasts in. He’s been my mother’s best friend for as long as I can remember, making him like an honorary uncle before he became my real one by marrying my mom’s brother.

  I feel like there’s an uncle joke somewhere in there.

  Either way, I love him, both of my uncles, and I missed them like crazy after we moved. Thank goodness for video chatting, and their love for road-tripping down the California coastline.

  “Ciao, bella. Look at you, Chloe. I knew the lavender hair would look gorgeous on you. I officially approve.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in that familiar way, even though I haven’t seen him as often as I’d like in the last decade since my parents moved us from Northern to Southern California practically overnight.

  “Thank you. I’m glad Eadie talked me into it this week.”

  “Me too.” He shares a look with my mom before glancing back at me. “If that boy isn’t nice to you, I’m sure I know a few guys who’d love a shot with you.”

  My mom shakes her head at me while I grin. Francesco tried to set me up with one of his nephews once when I was a teenager. That was before he and Uncle Cody became a thing and then . . . well, then, Noah happened.

  Which brings me back to what he just said. “You know I’m not looking for anything. I just want him to know the truth.”

  Francesco purses his lips and nods. “Uh-huh, sure. Have you seen that man lately? I’m not sure you’ll be able to help yourself. Especially with all of those feelings still involved too.”

  My ribs tighten, and I shake my head. “It’s been ten years since we were together, so there definitely aren’t any feelings anymore. For all I know, he still hates my guts and will leave the second he realizes it’s me.”

  My mom tilts her head. “Orrrrrr he might not. Give him a chance too, okay? Sometimes it takes a little longer to make amends.”

  It’s easy to hear my dad’s influence in my mom’s words. They did a lot of soul-searching together after my dad was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer several years ago. It made it easier and at the same time harder for us to know there was no cure for him, and that he wouldn’t be with us for much longer.

  The limited time amplified all of our relationships, and I’m eternally grateful for that bond we shared and will always have. Nothing will take that away. His diagnosis—and ultimately his death—changed both my mom and me. But in the end, it was also the major reason we moved back to Berkeley. I guess both of our hearts were still in Northern California.

  Now we’re here . . . to start anew.

  To be with our friends and family.

  To try and mend old wounds.

  Because how can you expect your life to change for the better, for your soul to be nurtured, when you don’t show someone else—someone you once loved—that you’re sorry?

  Even when it’s not easy.

  Even when I’m ready to pee my pants just thinking about facing Noah tonight.

  Bidding on him during the bachelor auction wasn’t planned. At that point, I was still wondering how I’d actually get in contact with him.

  But when the host announced Noah’s name, and the mysterious man—the one who rescued me from the drunken douchebag—walked onto that stage, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, what were the odds?

  He stood up there, and the mask didn’t take away a thing from his looks. With his short brown hair, and a body built to beat competitors in the water, all wrapped up in a suit that fit perfectly in all the right places, I couldn’t help myself.

  Without a doubt, he has turned into an even hotter version of his teenage self. I looked him up for the first few years after we left Berkeley, but when it entered an unhealthy stage, I had to stop. Seeing him in any form kept me from moving on, from trying to live a normal life. My unhealthy obsession—a deep and dark sadness—over my old boyfriend didn’t do me any favors.

  Francesco snaps me out of my thoughts when he squeezes my shoulder. He hums deep in his chest. “No old feelings, huh?”

  “What?”

  He points toward the mirror and therefore, me.

  At my wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Thank goodness they can’t see past the high neckline of my gray dress because my skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere.

  Meeting up with Noah has been long overdue. Knowing we’re in the same city again drives my mind crazy, and I hope my thoughts will calm down after I see him.

  And of course, I wonder if the glimpse I caught of the man at the party mixed with the memory of the boy I knew so long ago matches my wildest dreams.

  Because even though the chances of him forgiving me are very slim, I can’t lie to myself.

  I’ve been imagining this meeting, this conversation, for the past decade.

  When I step out of the Uber at the Berkeley Marina, I feel slig
htly lightheaded. My brain’s been getting even crazier on the drive over, and I’m questioning everything. Because is this really a good idea? Waking up and confronting these old ghosts?

  I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the guilt and regrets over the years—or at least, I’ve tried—so maybe it would be better to just leave things be. What if I only make things worse by confronting him, by opening up that Pandora’s box I’ve tried to keep as tight a lid on as possible?

  Promise to live your best life. Don’t let the past weigh you down. If there are things you can fix, bridges you can mend, patch them up. There’s nothing worse than being at the end of the road and looking back at a pile of remorse. Especially when there’s a chance you could have made things better.

  I bite back the sting of emotions that threaten to surface at my dad’s words.

  I close my eyes and breathe in for four counts before breathing out for four. I do this several times until the familiar calmness settles over me like a comforting veil. It’s not as effective as it normally is, but a ton better than before.

  Taking out my phone gives me a welcome distraction. A look at the time confirms that I’m fashionably late, on purpose. The last thing I wanted to happen was to be there first and for him to see me and walk right back out the door again.

  This way—if Noah’s still as punctual as ever—he should already be in his seat, which will hopefully give me the advantage I need.

  My screen lights up with a reminder of a waiting text message from Francesco.

  Francesco: You’re fire on heels, baby girl. Don’t forget that. Go grab that gorgeous man by the nuts. Not literally, of course . . . unless you want to. More in the grab life by the balls. Text me when you’re done, or if you need backup. I’m expecting a full report. Love you.

  I laugh when I see the parrot emoji at the end of the message. The one emoji that portrays him without any words as he likes to proclaim he’s as gay as a parrot. We’re all used to it, and it’s been a running joke in the family for years. But as so often, Francesco went above and beyond and actually turned it into the branding for his bar Parrot Lounge.