Summer Attractions (9 page)

“There’s a lot of material here,” Gabe observed as he handed over some bills to the attendant, who then handed them two tall frosty cups of frozen lemonade.

Jemma saw an couple vacating a nearby bench, and claimed it with a triumphant smile. Gabe joined her a second later.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, watching and listening as the festival bustled around them. There were so many different cultures and countries represented, with a smorgasbord of languages buzzing in the crowd. “I wish Nick had told me what he was going to write about,” Jemma admitted.

“Why?”

“It would make all this a lot easier,” Jemma said. “Also, I’d already know that Duncan approved.”

He turned to her, a serious expression on his handsome face. “Did or did they not hire you with the idea that you would eventually write?”

“I suppose so.”

“Of course they did. They thought the article you wrote on Colin was good. Good enough that they knew you could do this job without Nick.”

“You seem so certain,” Jemma said. She wasn’t used to feeling so out of her depth. She certainly wasn’t used to questioning her own abilities. She’d always been confident in her ability to find a great story and write it well. Spending a year under Nick hadn’t been good for her. She’d gotten rusty and a little afraid of her own shadow.

“You should be too,” Gabe pointed out.

Jemma sucked down the rest of her lemonade, risking the cold headache behind her eyes so she could avoid responding to his statement.

“Where to next?” he asked as they finished their drinks.

“Swimming,” Jemma said decidedly. She wasn’t going to write about Kimber—not unless specifically requested to, anyway—but Jemma already wanted to hear more about the new star.

There was no practical demonstration at that tent, for which Jemma was grateful. The video playing had interviews with several of the members of the team, and though she was expecting to see Kimber, it still gave her a start to see the girl appear on the screen. She put on a brave front for the interview, talking confidently about her races and her chances. But Jemma had already learned to see the vulnerability hiding in her soft hazel eyes.

They stayed for the rest of the interviews then left, wandering from one tent to the next. They threw basketballs and played t-ball and even tried a virtual demonstration of what it felt like be racing across the water in one of the competitive skiffs.

Gabe was a model of patience and seemed genuinely interested in most of what they did and saw. He also proved, to Jemma’s annoyance, to be as naturally athletic as she’d suspected. Maybe not quite as naturally athletic as Colin, but then Gabe wasn’t a Heisman-winning quarterback or the first pick in the NFL draft. Jemma was used to being the clumsy, uncoordinated one.

When Gabriel snagged a commemorative plastic frisbee from a table at the beach volleyball station and suggested they go find a more uncrowded spot on the beach to throw it around, she eyed him dubiously.

“You
have
noticed that I’m not exactly spectacular at sports, right?” she asked hesitantly as they walked toward a more secluded spot Gabe had found.

“I’m not blind,” he pointed out. “But it’s okay. Not everyone has to be good at everything. And you don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.”

It was the complete opposite of what Colin might have said. He had a determination to excel that could be exhausting at times.

“Well as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Jemma stripped off her sandals and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, struggling a bit with the newfound curliness of her hair. There was no doubt about it, she missed her straightener a
lot
.

He gave her a smile. “Eyes wide open, babe.”

Jemma tried to ignore how her insides were currently dancing the merengue at his new adopted pet names for her—first
darling
and now
babe
. She especially ignored the pulse of guilt she felt when she remembered telling Colin as kindly as she could that she wished he would stick to her first name and leave the pet names behind.

At the time it had seemed like such a good idea—a way to slowly begin preparing her, but mostly him, for separate lives on opposite sides of the country. Now she just remembered how sad and resigned his eyes had become and how he’d cut their study evening short.

“Are you okay?” Gabe asked, jerking Jemma back to the present.

She wasn’t. Not really. She’d believed that moving on would be something she’d look forward to, something to be savored and enjoyed, and
god
, it was. Especially when it was with a man like Gabe, who set her on fire just by glancing in her direction. She’d thought she could close off the guilt a lot more easily, but she couldn’t. Not even if Colin never had to know about Gabriel Rocha.

“Let’s play,” she said instead, because pretty much the last person she ever intended to discuss Colin with was standing in front of her looking impatient.

He let it go, jogging backwards on the beach, his limbs lithe and graceful.

She probably would have embarrassed herself a hell of a lot more, but the wind had picked up on the beach, often blowing even Gabe’s well-aimed tosses of the frisbee off course.

She bit her smile back as he went diving for a particularly badly aimed lob of hers, but couldn’t help her laugh when he emerged triumphantly from the sand with the frisbee in hand. He was charming even when he wasn’t trying; Jemma chalked it up to her own inability to stay immune.

The sun was setting over the Bay when they finally called it quits, sandy and panting for breath.

“What was the score?” Jemma asked archly as she leaned down to slip her feet back into her sandals.

“Ten thousand to zero,” he teased.

“Oh, I wasn’t that terrible,” she insisted.

“No, you weren’t,” he said and when she glanced over at him, she saw how serious his expression was.

It just about matched how seriously compromised her heart was becoming.

“I had fun,” she said, lightly as she could, as they walked back to the boardwalk.

“That was the idea.”

“I didn’t know policemen had fun,” she teased.

“This policeman doesn’t, usually,” he admitted as they headed back to the main Festival area. “Should we get some dinner before the Opening Ceremonies start?” He gestured to where they had a giant countdown set up on one of the televisions they’d set up. They had about forty minutes until the ceremonies began.

They walked past the colorfully painted food trucks with the entrancing scents, and after discussion, they decided on the
esfihas
, a sort of Brazilian-inspired pizza topped with a shredded beef that smelled so good Jemma’s mouth watered.

They carried the
esfihas
piping hot on thin paper to the main viewing area, where a man was renting low beach chairs. Passing her
esfihas
to Gabe, Jemma dug in her pocket and pulled out some
reals
. With a fond shake of his head, Gabe managed to transfer all their dinner to one hand and pluck a single bill from her outstretched hand and give to the smiling man.

She shot Gabe a look and picked up their chairs, and after they found an occupied spot with a good view of the giant screens, set them up.

Jemma was halfway through her first
esfiha
when she turned to him. “I wasn’t going to overpay him, you know.”

He shook his head again, still that brand of amusement that always infuriated her. “And you think if you hold out a whole palmful of money, he’ll just take what it costs?”

She took a bite of flavorful pastry. “I was going to ask you,
of course
.”

“You were?” he said, looking genuinely surprised.

Jemma took a long drink of her beer, letting the moment drag out a bit longer. “Of course I was. I don’t know how to speak Portuguese. I had no idea how much he was asking for; I had no idea how much money was in my hand. You had answers to both of those questions. I’d have to be incredibly stubborn and a little stupid to not ask for your help in that situation.”

His smile deepened. “I’m glad to hear you’ve finally seen the light.”

She nudged him firmly with an elbow. “No need to rub it in.”

“Does that mean you’re going to listen to me all the time?”

Jemma rolled her eyes and shook her head as the lights began to dim in the makeshift amphitheater and the countdown on the screen rolled to zero.

The spectacle kept her eyes glued to the screen as Opening Ceremonies began to unfold. She’d heard rumors of the incredible samba parade the Rio samba schools had planned, and even after spending a few afternoons watching YouTube videos in her office hadn’t prepared her for the reality, even across another screen.

It was a stunning display, impressive and every inch the theatrical equivalent of the last few Olympics. Beijing had raised the bar, and the other cities had definitely responded.

When the countries began marching in, Gabe leaned over. It had long grown dark, and there were torches set here and there in the sand, and the flickering light danced over the planes of his handsome face. “Do you want another beer?” he asked. “I find the parade of nations really boring.”

She did too, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “Not another beer,” she said. It had been a long day, and she had barely been able to hold back a few yawns already. “But a bottle of water would be great. Cold, if you can make it happen.”

“You’ve got it,” he said, and disappeared into the murky light outside of the amphitheater.

She was kind of hoping Gabe’s errand would take him long enough to make it through the parade, because she wanted to pay the sort of attention to Kimber he would absolutely question.

Of course, he made it back long before that, and she realized she should have known better. He spoke Portuguese and he was a cop in LA. He knew how to get things done. He quirked an eyebrow at her surely disgruntled expression as he handed her a cold bottle of water.

She wrenched open the lid and took a long drink, watching as the Chilean Olympic delegation walked into the stadium waving their flags excitedly.

“Something wrong?” he asked, clearly amused.

Jemma paused, thinking of how much she should tell him. How much she even
wanted
to tell him.

“Have you ever known someone with a problem and you didn’t know if you’d be helping or hurting them to try to solve it?” she finally asked.

“Yes.”

She looked up in surprise at him. “I’m a cop, Jemma,” he said, gesturing with his bottle of beer. “I see situations like that every day on the streets of LA. Countless decisions that I’ve made that I don’t know turned out good or bad, or if I made everything a worse muddle than it was before. Sometimes, I don’t feel like it gets better.”

“It’s an interesting profession for you to choose.” Jemma watched as the Spanish delegation made their way into the stadium. The United States was next. “How did you decide to become a cop?”

“I wanted to help people,” Gabe said. “And I do. But I also wonder if I hurt them too, sometimes. I think you do what you think is best, and then it’s up to fate. You can’t fix everything.”

The United States and its enormous delegation entered the
Maracanã Stadium
on the screen. Jemma watched intently as the camera swung from the flag bearer to the more important members of the delegation. To nobody’s surprise, Kimber was the second athlete shown. She was smiling and happy, but there was still that same shadow in her eyes that worried Jemma. She’d just met Kimber that morning and had only spent a handful of hours with her, but she still felt connected to her. Like somehow she was one of a very few who actually saw her for who she was and not what they wanted her to be. And for someone who worked this hard, to reach this pinnacle, to be praised for being someone else didn’t seem fair to Jemma at all.

But she remained conflicted as to what to
do
exactly. She didn’t want to write an article, not unless Kimber explicitly asked her to, and they were by no means at that point yet. Kimber had just barely decided to trust her. The best she could do, Jemma decided as they watched the rest of the parade of Nations, was to be there for her and to be a support during this stressful time.

After the Brazilian delegates entered the stadium, the Opening Ceremonies drew to a close, and Gabe looked over at her. Jemma was sleepily staring at the dark screen. “You look exhausted,” he said, and she could hear the edge of worry in his voice.

“I’ll be fine. It was a long day,” she said.

“Let’s go back,” he said. “You need your rest.”

She would have argued with him, but he already had her up out of her chair and he even managed to get them another pedi-cart, even though the streets were teeming with people looking for one. “You’re handy to have around,” Jemma murmured as they walked into the elevator at the hotel.

He gave a bashful shrug. It felt so different than the night before, when they’d both been fevered and out of control. Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if he would leave her at her door to sleep or if he’d attempt to join her again.

It was something she was definitely interested in revisiting, but every muscle in her body screamed with exhaustion, and she wasn’t sure any of them would actually cooperate.

Sure enough, as they approached Jemma’s door, he seemed to hesitate, walk a little slower.

She didn’t really feel like he was uncertain about anything, but he did seem to be uncertain about this.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, I had a really good time,” she said, and the irony wasn’t lost on her. This felt like the end of every date
ever
. All that remained was to see if he’d kiss her goodnight.

She wished he would, but from the shuttered look in his eyes, she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t.
Message received
, she thought to herself.

“Me too,” he said, and he sounded a bit surprised that he seemed to mean it.

“I’ll let you know in the morning what the plan is,” Jemma said. “I think we have some swimming events in the evening. I may work on some articles in the morning.”