Open Play (Passion Players) Read online

  ALSO BY JN WELSH

  Back on Top Series by JN Welsh and Carina Press

  In Tune

  In Rhythm

  In Harmony

  Holiday Novellas

  Pining Over You

  Gigolo All the Way

  Sea Breeze Seduction Series

  Before We Say Goodbye

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2022 by Jennifer Welsh

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542034777

  ISBN-10: 1542034779

  Cover design by Hang Le

  Cover photo © The Cover Lab

  To all the globe-trotters and wanderlusters. May your desire and love for exploring the world never dull.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Ayanna Crawford had stretched her last hamstring and bent her last kneecap for the next ten days. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d be nestled in a business-class seat beside her best friend, Charlotte, on her way to Ireland for a four-day stay. The short girls’ trip to Ireland and much-needed break would round out Ayanna’s heavy travel schedule, which had included Nashville, Pittsburgh, Ecuador, and Qatar, before the physiotherapy convention in Liverpool. She loved visiting new places, but with her recent itinerary, she’d been unable to see all the sights of the places she’d visited.

  “You’re all set, Vicki. I’ll see you in two weeks for your follow-up.” Ayanna watched her last client sit up from her reclined position on the massage table.

  “Thanks, Dr. Crawford. I’m excited to get back on the court.” Vicki Smith, celebrity basketball player in the WNBA, rolled her leggings down to the ankle.

  Though Vicki didn’t need assistance, Ayanna helped her off the table, feeling the pull of her oversize royal-blue Rafaela scrubs top and the grip of her conditioned thigh muscles as she used them to aid her client. “You’re almost there. Let’s see how things look when I see you next, but I’m very hopeful I’ll be able to clear you for regular practice.”

  Vicki beamed. “That’d be great.”

  “I know you’re anxious to be free from all the restrictions and to get out of this routine with me and your trainer.” Ayanna held up a hand and soothed in a deeper, professional tone, “I just want to be a tiny bit cautious.” Vicki’s drive to return to the court was admirable, but seeing it all go down the drain due to not adhering to the routine wasn’t what Ayanna wished for her.

  “I’ll take it. I’m already coming back almost two months sooner.”

  “Six weeks,” Ayanna clarified.

  Vicki smirked. “Okay, six weeks.”

  “I just want to be precise so that any information shared is accurate and that I’m not giving my future clients unreasonable expectations.” Ayanna casually slipped her hands in her pockets and fiddled with her ID and office keys. The impressive timeline of this woman’s healing had once again confirmed Ayanna’s case findings, which gave her more fuel for her upcoming presentation.

  “I get it, Dr. Crawford, but you gotta admit that my progress has been pretty remarkable. I don’t know how to thank you for working with me.”

  “Working with you is reward enough.” Ayanna shared the sentiment. “You were the one sweating through the process and the pain to get better.” What good was her role as physical therapist and her exercises, stretches, and healing recommendations without great, hardworking patients?

  “Yes, the pain was real those first few sessions . . .” Vicki let out a burst of air. She slid into her sneakers and grabbed her bag. “Well, good luck in Liverpool.”

  “Thank you.” Ayanna needed all the luck she could get. She’d done many presentations, but this one had her nerves rattled, and she hadn’t even boarded the plane yet. More and more people were learning about her research, and with each success story, the demand continued to grow. “Remember your routine. Don’t be afraid to push a little bit more, but don’t overdo it.”

  “Got it, Doc.” Vicki thanked her again and left.

  With the athlete’s parting, Ayanna was free. Her files were packed for her meetings, and her presentation for the physiotherapy convention in Liverpool was on two flash drives as well as her laptop, her tablet, and her phone.

  Charlotte, Ayanna’s best friend since middle school, had come over the other night and helped her pack for their Ireland trip. According to Charlotte, Ayanna needed to “sluttify” her wardrobe, which Ayanna emphatically rejected. A normal exchange ever since puberty had taken hold of Charlotte and turned her into an even wilder child, in contrast to Ayanna’s overly intellectual and sometimes overly mannered way of interacting and coping. Nonetheless, their trust of and loyalty to one another transcended their differences, and as such, Ayanna had allowed her friend to add a touch of sexiness to her buttoned-up girls’ trip outfits. Given they’d be together, Ayanna was more open to gallivanting around Dublin with Charlotte’s choices.

  They’d both wanted to go ever since they’d watched Leap Year, a romantic comedy classic (in their expert opinion) about a woman trying to propose to her boyfriend on a day that only came once every four years. In fact, she and Charlotte had watched it again on Netflix when they’d been deciding on their itinerary. The main character of the movie was completely ridiculous, but it had given her and Charlotte some good laughs and haunted Ayanna’s dreams with the country’s gorgeous green landscapes and rolling hills.

  A knock sounded on her office door, and Solomon, a therapist on her team, entered. “Hey, Ayanna.”

  “Hey, Solomon.” His dark, nearly black, shaped-to-perfection Caesar haircut contrasted with his tan skin and white therapist coat. He was only slightly lighter than she was, and given their complementary temperaments, they were often mistaken for either relatives or a couple.

  Solomon had offered to be the point person for Ayanna’s conferences while her admin was out on maternity leave. This increased responsibil
ity had revealed a new talent of Solomon’s.

  “I’ve connected with our partners in Europe to make sure they have everything they need, as well as all our patients who are attending to give live testimonials. Everyone has everything they need,” he said.

  “Flight arrangements?”

  “Yes,” said Solomon.

  Ayanna lifted one brow. “Hotel stays and event transportation?”

  “Everything’s covered.”

  She shot off more questions as thoughts continued to surface. “And we responded to the dietary-information requests for dinner to the nutritionist? There’s vegan, gluten-free, dairy-free, nut-free . . . ?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.”

  “Great.” Ayanna nodded. “Do you need anything else from me? I sent an email earlier today, but you’re the only one who’s stopped by.”

  “Am I?” Solomon parked half of his rear on her desk. “That’s surprising.”

  Ayanna looked down her nose at him. “You better not even imply that I’m unapproachable when I’m leaving the office for a bit.”

  “You said it, not me,” he said.

  She pouted.

  “No, Ayanna. I don’t need anything. I’m all set, and according to everyone, we’re polished.” Solomon placated her worries a tiny bit, but not by much.

  “So they’ve talked to you?” she asked.

  “Is that what I said?” Solomon avoided her eyes.

  “Hmm.” Ayanna wasn’t such a hard-ass that her colleagues needed to hide from her, but she assumed they felt more comfortable connecting with Solomon. She had a tendency to be a little controlling when it came to these events. She wanted things to go well with no surprises. She hated surprises.

  “Okay, well . . . I guess I’m headed out.” She lingered.

  “Need something?” Solomon raised a brow and asked.

  Her fingers played with the tiny dark curls at the base of her neck as she scanned her office for wires to her electronics or documents she might have missed. She checked all the drawers. Locked. “I think I have everything.”

  Solomon crossed his arms. “You’re going to do great.”

  She sighed and this time ran her hand over the short coils of her pixie cut. She’d been working with Solomon for almost five years, and he had been one of her biggest advocates when she’d first revealed her recent research findings on sport ACL injuries. Ayanna had often heard that no one made it to the top alone, and she’d experienced that firsthand with the dynamic people surrounding and supporting her, even though accepting help wasn’t always easy. She worked her team hard but always made sure to show appreciation to those around her. However, when she gave a presentation, she stood alone on the stage, a feeling that she knew all too well and that was no less a part of her than the skin covering her body.

  Her stomach contracted as if reacting to a drop of something sour. “It’s the biggest talk I’ve done this year. The top researchers, physical therapists, and doctors will be there.” She tapped her finger on her desk. Over the past few months, Ayanna had done talk after talk to health professionals, the crowds had begun to grow in attendance, and the locations had become more prestigious. With the recognition came more scrutiny and more nerves.

  “You’ve had loads of practice with this talk. You’re more than ready to face this crowd.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Ayanna, you’ve graduated with a dual PhD from the top school for physical therapy and bioengineering in the country and did not one but two postgraduate residencies in orthopedic and sports PT. Not to mention your ridiculous patient schedule, all while researching and developing techniques to decrease recovery time.” Solomon recited her qualifications, each one straightening the vertebrae along her spine.

  She’d labored over her research. She needed an IV drip of fluids just thinking about the blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into medical cases, diagrams, sketches, data, and test exercises. Her eye twitched as if recalling the massive amount of reading and analysis that rivaled her PhD studies.

  After one of her clients, Oni Moore, had suffered a debilitating tibia fracture and anterior cruciate tear, Ayanna had taken the heartbreaking ordeal personally. With the short shelf life of sports careers, Ayanna wanted to make it possible for athletes—especially women, who were at a much higher risk for ACL tears—to come back from injury in record time and still thrive.

  When she’d first tried to share her findings, colleagues had waved her off. She was Black, young, and female, but they didn’t know her or her tenacity. She’d raised herself and her little sister, Jada, all while taking care of her mother, whose depression over her father’s passing had rendered her unable to take care of herself, much less Ayanna and Jada. Still, Ayanna had overcome the odds, excelling in school to get the hell out of her house. She’d had her moments of doubt, but when pushed, she pushed back and hard. Now she was one of the youngest in the field and leading the way.

  She nodded. “I got this.”

  “There’s my girl.” Solomon smiled and stood to move closer to her. “Go have some fun in Ireland, and I’ll see you in Liverpool.”

  Ayanna hugged him and grabbed her stuff. “You know what? I’m just going to check in with everyone one more time. Just to make sure that they really don’t need anything signed, or have an escalated issue, or need help with a patient, or . . .”

  Solomon shook his head. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  “See you in Liverpool.”

  Ayanna practiced her speech as she drew herself a bath. She had packed her suitcase down to the Q-tips in her toiletry bag, so tonight she intended to relax. Tomorrow morning she and Charlotte would share a car ride to the airport. A layover vacation wasn’t Ayanna’s regular protocol when traveling, especially before a big event like the Liverpool conference, but still, prevacation excitement tingled through her submerged limbs.

  She finished her bath and dressed for bed in her favorite ivory, stretch-knit, bamboo pajama set. Spring was only a week away and had made a few brief appearances, yet the chill of winter still blew through New York. She poured a glass of wine and took the first few sips of the ruby-red liquid. By this time tomorrow, she and Charlotte would be having themselves a pint of Guinness in the place where it had originated.

  Ireland’s natural scenery and lively cities made it an idyllic getaway. She’d be able to visit some of the places from the movie, like the picturesque Dingle Peninsula, and a couple of others not from the movie that Ayanna had added to her and Charlotte’s shared list after scrolling endlessly through blogs, pictures, and travel sites online. Bonus—Dublin, which would be their base for the trip, was a mere forty-six-minute flight from Liverpool and her conference.

  She snuggled into her couch and tossed a throw over her bare feet, then pointed the remote control toward the TV and pressed the on button. The news plastered her screen, and within two minutes the anchor had blown through six horrifying stories. Ayanna flipped to the screen saver, and the beautiful Swiss Alps covered in snow floated onto her screen, followed by the Kwahu Plateau of Ghana. She called out, “Hey, Siri. Play Esperanza Spalding.”

  That’s more like it. She was nestling into the plush cushioning of her textured, tan couch when her phone buzzed. Charlotte.

  “Hey, girl.” Ayanna turned down the music volume and put the phone on speaker.

  “Hey.” Charlotte’s greeting lasted two seconds too long, and her tone didn’t hold the same excitement it had over the weekend when she’d dug through Ayanna’s closet and joyfully tossed complete outfits onto her bed.

  Ayanna sat up, and her glass clinked as she set it down on the side table. “Everything okay?”

  “So I, um . . . I have some news.”

  “What?”

  “A work thing came up today, and I really tried to delegate, Yaya. Believe me, I really tried. But I have to go to Atlanta tomorrow.” Charlotte rushed on, and Ayanna barely understood the words.

  Ayanna couldn’t believe the bomb her friend
had just dropped. “Atlanta? Not Dublin? No . . . come on. We’ve had this scheduled for weeks.”

  “I know, girl.” Charlotte’s regret saturated those three little words. “But there’s not much more I can do about it. I’m the boss, so it falls on me to fix things that go wrong.” Charlotte owned an international apparel and footwear brand. Seam and Sole had doubled in size over the last two years and with that gained some influential clients and more brand recognition. If Charlotte said she needed to tend to an emergency, it probably involved a big-name company or client. That information, however, didn’t stop Ayanna’s chin from dipping to her chest.

  All the planning and organizing had been for nothing. Charlotte ditching her for work threw a wrench into their fab plans. Ayanna reined in the feeling that she’d been left on a doorstep, swaddled in a basket with a note pinned to her blanket.

  “Charlotte . . .” She didn’t want to guilt-trip her friend or make her feel bad, but she still felt abandoned.

  “But you’re going to have such a great time,” Charlotte continued. “I’m so jealous.”

  Ayanna’s hands crowned her forehead, and she squeezed her temples to ease the tension. “What do you mean . . . great time? I can’t go.”

  “Oh yes, you can. Everything’s all booked. Changing your flight at the last minute is going to cost you mad bills, and the family at the Airbnb sounds really nice.”

  Charlotte could sell razor blades to hair if she wanted to, and she positioned the trip as a too-late-to-ditch opportunity. Plus, Charlotte knew Ayanna was a sucker for friendly families, especially given the complete breakdown and dysfunction of her own.

  “I don’t care about the money. I care that we’re not doing this together. We were going to cancel the airplane movies and watch The Fifth Element together.”

  “Aww . . . and recite every word and annoy the other passengers. I’m going to miss watching the scenes with Tricky. He’s so fine,” Charlotte commented about the actor and musician.

  “The tours and plans . . . we were going to have high tea and shit.” Ayanna groaned.

  “Yaya, I need you to go. You can’t bail on this trip. Dublin calls. Plus, it’s your civic duty to see the sights, meet the locals, drink as many pints as you can stomach, and perhaps also get laid for the both of us.”