Chapter 10 #3
Not that it made it any easier.
One more sigh and I started walking toward the German, bag over my shoulder, hands knotted behind my back; I thought about what I was going to say to get him out of his encounter. Kulti looked up as soon as I got about halfway to him, his features calm and even as he listened to the fan talking.
I raised my eyebrows and made my eyes go wide in a “just go along with it” gesture.
He blinked in response.
While I was a shitty liar, I could bend the truth so I wasn’t really lying… mostly. I plastered on a smile as soon as the fan saw me coming. “Hi,” I greeted him before turning my attention to Kulti. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but would you mind helping me change my tire, please?”
Yeah, I almost winced at myself for inventing such a girly make-believe situation.
I could damn well change my own tire. When I moved away from my parents for the first time, I made sure to look up an instructional video and watch it enough times that the steps were ingrained in my memory.
But it wasn’t like anyone else knew that.
Plus, it’d been the first thing that had popped into my head when trying to think of an excuse to save Kulti.
There was no hesitation on his behalf when he nodded and said way too sincerely, “Of course.” The German chocolate cake—which I was not a fan of, for the record—turned his attention back to the other man and quickly thanked him for his support and something about it being a pleasure meeting him.
Before I knew it, The King was walking alongside me across the field in the direction of the parking lot.
I repeat, Kulti was walking alongside me.
Poop. Poop. Poop.
I took a mental breather and swallowed, glancing at the man next to me.
“Don’t turn around,” he ordered in a low voice.
All right. The “how about you don’t tell me what to do” lived and died in a split second right on my lips.
Instead, I shot him an annoyed glance.
He happened to be looking right at me as I did it.
Fantastic.
Almost as if he could read my mind, he explained, “He’s watching. I’m sure of it.”
“All right.” I scratched at the place behind my ear as we kept walking, stepping over the curb that led to the parking lot. “Do we need to pretend like you’re actually helping me?”
“Let me take a look when we get to your car.” That was the longest sentence I’d ever heard from him.
I nodded and steered him toward the little brown Civic parked on the second row. “This is me.”
Kulti made a noise of acknowledgment as we came to my car.
Popping the trunk open, I threw my stuff inside and watched him angle his body so he could look back at the field nonchalantly.
I wasn’t exactly known for being inconspicuous—Eric liked to refer to me as an elephant—so I didn’t bother trying to look.
Instead I looked at the tattoo that barely peeked out from beneath his shirtsleeve, and the small scars that had to have been edited out of all the pictures he’d had taken over the years because I’d never seen them before.
I noticed the way so much red mixed with the brown of his facial hair that had started growing in.
Tall and still in fantastic shape, my poor, stupid, stupid heart gave a little thump in recognition of an attractive man.
Then I stomped it to death and reminded myself he was just a guy. I’d grown up around guys. They weren’t anything special. They were fun, funny, and complete pains in the asses just like women, who were also fun and funny.
I was fine. Totally fine.
So maybe he had a slight accent. Okay. And he’d won a few championships. Right.
But he wasn’t a god. He hadn’t found a cure for cancer. And he’d upset my dad, even if he’d made up for it.
I was 180 percent fine.
Apparently from the looks of it, his face was a little flushed. I didn’t need to glance at the field to know we were still being watched.
“He’s looking?” I asked quietly, like his fan could hear me.
Kulti nodded, the sunlight hitting his face just right so he looked just as young as he had fifteen years ago.
“Okay, then let’s pretend to change my tire real quick. I have to get to work.” It wasn’t like I’d get in trouble with Marc or anything if I was late, but I still didn’t like taking advantage of him or screwing him over. The sooner we got started, the sooner we finished.
The German made a face when I told him I needed to get to work but didn’t say another word.
I got the wheel lock key out of my glove compartment, jack out of my trunk, and pulled the spare out, just to be safe.
Was I actually going to change it? No. But I’d go through all the steps and make it seem like we did.
We gave each other side glances as I crouched down on the concrete, as he did the same. I handed him the tire iron and let him loosen a bolt.
“I know how to change my own tire,” I felt the need to tell him for some reason, as if not knowing made me less of a person.
Those green-brown orbs slid back over in my direction as he loosened the rest of the bolts.
I slid the jack to him and watched as he put it under the axel.
“Don’t turn around,” he said once he’d gone through the long act of raising the car and pretending like he was taking the bolts completely off. What a freaking actor.
No argument or question came out of my mouth. I just crouched there with him as we pretended to change my tire for a few more minutes. Eventually he finished and we stood up. It wasn’t until then that Kulti turned around to look back at the field.
“The coast is clear?” I asked.
“Yes,” he responded in that low voice that caught my interest a little more than it should have.
I nodded and lifted my shoulders. “All right.” What was I supposed to say after that? I wasn’t sure, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t either. Okay. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I offered up, unsure.
Kulti gave me a sharp nod. No thanks, nada.
One awkward smile and two retreating footsteps, I deposited the jack and the spare into the trunk.
I got into the car and let myself grip the steering wheel for a second.
Just as I was pulling out of the parking lot, I looked in my rearview mirror and watched Kulti make his way toward a black car parked off the curb in the lot.
He got into the back seat, not the driver’s.