Chapter 10
Alex
“If you’re getting tired, we could head back to the hotel. I’m sure Tenny wouldn’t mind us meeting him later,” I tell Mags, hoping she’ll take me up on my offer.
My feet and back are aching, but Mags looks like a kid after inhaling an oversized soda and giant cotton candy.
Unlike my other grandmother, who passed when I was a kid, Mags has always been a ball of energy.
She rarely sits down, and even when she’s standing, she’s swaying or tapping her foot.
I once asked Mags why she’s always moving, and she told me she’s simply connecting with the energy around her.
Apparently, ballpark post-game energy is akin to a college frat dance party, because Mags keeps bouncing to a beat the rest of us can’t hear.
It’s a miracle I was able to drag her this far out of the stadium, waiting beside the ticket booths.
All I want is to get in my rental, drive us back to my hotel, and lie on the surprisingly comfortable mattress.
“Some of the other players have already come out. I’m sure he’s not far behind,” she tells me, craning her neck like a fangirl about to get a glimpse of her favorite celebrity.
“You could look less excited to see him.” I lean onto one hip in an attempt to take some of the pressure off my back. “His ego is already big enough as it is.”
When Mags gives me a quizzical stare, I realize my mistake. But before I correct my very ungirlfriend-like comment, Tenny jogs up to us.
“Thanks for waiting. Sorry it took longer than expected.”
“Not a problem, dear. I’ve got nothing but time.” She gives him a beaming smile before pulling him into a hug. “Now tell me. What’s the plan for tonight?”
Tenny has kept us both in the dark about his “fun idea.”
He looks around dramatically, as if checking the coast is clear, and I find myself stifling a laugh. “As you know, pudding and I can’t be seen together. As much as I’d love to take you ladies out to dinner, you’ll have to settle for my cooking tonight.”
“That sounds lovely.” Mags squeezes his forearm. “I love a man who can pull his weight in the kitchen. What’s your specialty?”
“Um.” The tips of Tenny’s ears turn pink as he rubs the back of his neck. “Pasta and store-bought sauce. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a chef.”
An odd burst of affection ribbons its way through my ribs, seeing Tenny’s rare moment of humility. He’s always so confident on the field or in interviews that it’s almost grating.
I softly bump my shoulder to his. “We can stop by the store and get some garlic bread, fresh basil to liven up the sauce, and a salad to round it out.”
Tenny’s grateful gaze makes my heart do a little flip. “Thanks, babe.”
Instead of marching off toward my rental, I end up smiling back. The waning Arizona sun cradles his masculine jaw in soft pinks and corals, like it too loves the texture of his facial hair. I haven’t realized the moment has stretched so long until Mags’s stomach growls—loudly.
She laughs while patting her flat stomach under her flowy dress. “Probably should have taken Mallory up on her hot dog offer at the bottom of the eighth. I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”
Tenny shifts his duffel bag to the other shoulder before offering my grandmother his elbow. “Then let’s get you fed.”
We’re a dozen feet from my car when Tenny stops mid-stride, frowning.
“What?”
“You didn’t get your tire fixed? It’s been weeks, Alex. That’s dangerous.”
It’s stupid that hearing my name instead of one of his ridiculous nicknames feels like a sharp jab in the side.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, dropping my grandmother’s arm to fish in his pocket for his phone. “Give me your keys.”
“What?” I cross my arms. “No.”
“Give me your keys, cupcake. I’m fixing this for you,” he tells me while pulling up a number from his contacts.
“Absolutely not.”
Tenny’s ice-blue gaze crashes with my narrowed one as he pushes into my space. “You had the chance to fix it yourself, pumpkin. Now it’s my responsibility.”
“No.”
Mags makes a pssh noise, and I nearly jump, having forgotten she’s standing beside us. “Stop being so stubborn, and let your boyfriend take care of it.”
“Yeah, muffin. Let your boyfriend take care of this.”
The smirk curling his mouth is equal parts annoying and alluring.
I tilt my chin up. “Only if you stop calling me food names.”
“You got it, sunshine,” he says, slipping a hand into my purse and snatching the keys before I can protest. “Stay right here. I don’t want Mags to have to walk any farther.”
Then Tenny sprints toward the players’ parking area, phone pressed to his ear.
Twenty minutes later, after a comfortable ride in Tenny’s oversized rental truck, during which he and Mags kept up a lively conversation, he parks beside a small grocery store.
“I’ll stay here if that’s okay with you two,” Mags says.
“Are you feeling okay? We can head back to the hotel and order takeout if you’d rather.”
Mags swats at me from the passenger seat. “Stop trying to keep this gem from me. I’d just rather relax here and listen to music while you shop.”
“I’ll get you a snack to tide you over. What would you prefer—nuts, a granola bar, some fruit?”
Mags squeezes his forearm again. “Unsalted cashews if you don’t mind.”
“Anything for you, Mags.” Tenny winks before hopping down and opening the back door to help me out of the lifted truck.
He did this in the parking lot at the stadium as well, insisted on helping us.
“I’m really quite capable,” I murmur so Mags can’t hear.
Though, she’s already joined Stevie Nicks in a rousing duet, so I doubt she’s paying attention.
“I know how capable you are,” Tenny tells me, not giving me an inch of space as I take his hand to step onto the asphalt. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Without warning, he whips off his Waves technical shirt.
“What are you—”
I get an eyeful of sculpted abs before he reaches into his duffel bag, yanks on a plain white tee, and pulls a ballcap with—
Is that? What in the world?
“Why does your hat have a gray beard attached to it?”
“This?” Tenny is practically luminescent as he shuts the back door to the truck. “This is the best disguise in the world. Kenzie was really onto something when she came to that home game in full grandpa regalia.”
I remember the coverage of how Trevor Chapman’s wife was banned from the stadium last season and snuck in, in disguise, to cheer him on.
That was the day they went public with their relationship in a post-game press conference, and she became the darling of the Waves.
Since then, she’s kept a low profile, preferring her friend and fellow WAG, Mallory, to take the spotlight.
Tenny adjusts his oversized mustache and then reaches for my hand. “Ready?”
When I hesitate, he releases a dramatic sigh. “Mags will be able to see us as we walk toward the entrance. I promise to drop your hand faster than if you were infested with cooties the second we enter the store.”
I roll my eyes at his cootie comment but slide my fingers into his. They’re warm with rough calluses over the top of his palm. I have the strangest impulse to rub my thumb over those tough spots but get distracted when Tenny interlaces our fingers and pulls us toward the entrance.
When he smiles at me, eyes glinting with what looks like genuine happiness, it’s like being hit by a rogue wave.
I’m momentarily stunned, the air tightens in my lungs, and I’m not quite sure which way is up.
If I were underwater, I’d release a slow breath and follow the bubbles to the surface, but I don’t know how to do that with Tenny’s fingers squeezing mine like this is the favorite part of his day.
“You’re really good at this.”
His brow crinkles. “At what?”
“Pretending.”
Conflict clouds his gaze for a few seconds before a man in cycling gear clicks over to us. His road bike reclines against the side of the building, nearly as bright as his cycling kit. I blink away as the setting sun highlights his very neon and very snug bike shorts.
“Friedrich.” Tenny beams, pulling out my rental keys. “Perfect timing.”
“Why are we giving him my car keys?”
Tenny laughs, and the sound washes over me like a loving caress. “Sorry, I get ahead of myself sometimes. Friedrich, meet Alex. Alex, this is my personal assistant, Friedrich.”
The man glances at our combined hands with an impassive expression, like he’s used to a variety of different women with Tenny. Unease crawls down my bare arms, and I shake my fingers free of Tenny’s to offer Friedrich a handshake. He pumps my hand once, face vacant.
“He’s taking your car to a friend of mine’s auto shop while Mags is with us, and then I’ll bring it to your hotel later tonight.”
“Oh, uh…” I stammer, looking at Friedrich. “You shouldn’t have to do that, especially when you’re busy exercising.”
Tenny laughs again. “This is Friedrich’s preferred mode of transportation. I think the only reason he took the job with me is because he gets to ride his heart out for the six weeks we’re in Arizona. There’s quite a cycling community here.”
“So I shouldn’t tell him that he could work for a Rattlesnake and cycle all the time?”
My fake boyfriend shakes his head at me like I’m the world’s biggest rascal.
“Lucky for me, he’s even more fond of the ocean.”
Friedrich nods once in confirmation, still a complete brick wall.
“Thank you for helping me,” I tell him. “Can I pay you for your trouble?”
“Tenny pays me.”
“But—”
“Thanks again for helping with this.” Tenny pushes me toward the mechanical double doors before glancing back at his assistant. “And the other thing?”
“Already taken care of.”
Friedrich zips my keys into a pocket in his kit, straddles his bike, and takes off before the AC of the grocery store even blasts us in the face.
“What other thing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tenny boops me on the nose before grabbing a grocery cart. “Let’s be quick. I don’t want to keep Mags waiting.”