Chapter 12
Tenny
“Isaid no food-related pet names,” Alex grumbles as I help her down from the truck.
“I know. My brain malfunctioned.”
“It seems to be doing that a lot today.”
I cage her against the closed door while Randy helps Mags out on the other side. “Do you want to take jabs at me, or do you want to know what’s going on?”
“Can’t I have both?” Alex’s smirk is so perfectly her I’m tempted to pull out my phone and capture it.
“Focus, Stevens.”
That seems to pull her out of our flirty banter.
Wait.
Why the heck am I trying to stop this teasing tête-à-tête?
“Who is he?” she asks, all business now.
“The one who lives in this house and—”
“You don’t rent a whole house when you’re at camp? I thought you’d find the largest—”
“Just shows how you know nothing about me.”
“...shiniest—”
I tilt my chin to the side. “Maybe you have been paying attention.”
“...most audacious home so you could throw parties every night.”
My head shakes as I level her with a mirthful glare. “We have so much to learn about each other.”
I catch Randy rounding the back of the truck and step back just in time.
“I didn’t know you were bringing company.”
“Last minute change of plans.” I give him a toothy smile. “Coach, meet Alex and Mags. Alex is the new reporter for Diamond Breakdown, and Mags is her lovely grandmother. I offered to make dinner for them since their hotel toilet exploded.”
“It did?” Mags gasps, her neck snapping in Alex’s direction.
Alex’s eyes laser into mine for two heavy beats before she sags a little. “Yeah. I forgot to tell you because I…I was—”
“You were distracted by my great game,” I offer.
“They called right in the middle of our clubhouse interview. Luckily, the plumber is fixing everything, and it should be like nothing ever happened. They just need a few hours. That’s why I was so insistent on you both coming to dinner.
The casita is the perfect place to rest.”
A trickle of sweat slides down my temple, but I don’t dare wipe it away.
I hate lying like this. Misleading the press to protect your privacy is one thing, but my stomach feels like it’s filled with boiling battery acid after lying to Alex’s grandmother this much.
Regardless, I’m grateful that all those years of helping Georgia practice improv is finally paying off.
Randy slaps me on the back. “Is that why you keep renting it year after year? It made sense when you were a rookie, but now…”
“That’s exactly why.” I beam at my former coach. “Restorative mountain views within chatting distance of one of the best coaches in baseball.”
Randy waves me off, his blush reaching the base of his shiny skull. “You have to say that.”
“I don’t,” I tell him, being absolutely serious. “If they ever make a documentary of my life, you would absolutely be in it. I’m the player I am today because of you.”
He jostles me, just like he used to do when I was half his size. “No making me tear up when I’m about to meet the Mrs.”
“Going anywhere special?” With the casual way Alex asks, I’m not sure if she’s digging for information to establish a timeline or genuinely wants to know.
“We’re meeting at that new restaurant downtown. The one with salsa dancing.” When Randy pantomimes a little dance move, a grin flickers across Alex’s lips.
“Lucky man,” I tell him, only slightly jealous.
I love dancing—be it eardrum-splitting clubbing, the chicken dance, or anything in between.
“Don’t I know it.” He gives me another hearty pat. “Nice to meet you, ladies. I hope everything works out with your hotel.”
“It will.” The slightly sharp edge of Alex’s words is clearly directed at me.
I lead the two of them around the side of the main house where an artistic wrought-iron gate opens to the shared backyard.
Like most of the houses in this area, it’s xeriscaped.
A paver walkway steers us beyond the furnished covered patio, complete with brightly colored pillows.
Bursting agave, ocotillo, and lantana are artfully interspaced between the rose-colored rocks.
“Wow,” Alex breathes, gazing at the purpling mountain range beyond the casita.
“Right?” I smile, pausing beside her.
The terracotta shingles on the little house seem to sparkle with the last remnants of light.
Using my key, I hold the door open for Mags to enter first before realizing that I left in a hurry this morning.
“Wait.” I block the open doorway with my body. “Give me a minute to clean up first.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” With surprising strength, Mags gives my stomach a sturdy shove.
The second Alex steps inside, her eyes bounce everywhere.
I’m sure her reporter brain is ruthlessly cataloging the piled dishes, my gear sprawled throughout the cozy living room, and the damp towel strewn on the floor halfway out of the bathroom.
I set the grocery bags on the counter, quickly collecting three half-empty coffee mugs and my protein shaker.
“Arizona wasn’t lying.” Alex turns her amused gaze toward me, hands on her hips. “You are a slob.”
I don’t have time to answer her because Mags is bending to clean up the tape, athletic wrap, and thawed ice pack scattered across the coffee table. I vault over the back of the couch, beating her to it.
“I got that, Mags.” With one broad hand, I sweep everything into my shirt, using it as a little pouch. “Please”—I snatch two discarded shirts and a Waves hoodie from the cushions and fluff a pillow for her—“make yourself at home.”
I’m vaguely aware of Alex unpacking the groceries as I whirl around like a human cyclone. When I finally reenter the small kitchen, she’s got a pot of water to boil and the oven preheating.
“I’m sorry.” I lean against the refrigerator, wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand.
Alex’s lips twitch as she chops romaine for our salad. “Honestly? It’s kind of endearing. You’re so obnoxiously confident on the field. It’s nice to see you don’t have it all together.”
“Wait, did you just say something nice about me?”
“I wouldn’t get used to it,” she tells me, focusing on her task. “I’m sure it was a one-time thing. Clearly, I just had a ministroke.”
“Still.” I splay my hand over my heart. “I’m touched.”
Alex uses the chef’s knife to point at me. “This is why I don’t compliment you.”
I know I’m playing with fire—or rather, extremely sharp cutlery—but I press forward. Right until the tip of the knife is a mere inch from my chest.
The way Alex shakes her head as she smiles makes the potential impalement completely worth it.
“Why are you like this?”
“That’s a long and complicated answer that we should probably discuss over the next few dates.”
Her lips dive into a frown. “What dates?”
Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Mags is still playing Sudoku on her phone, I lower my voice. “The ones we should probably be going on after games the next few days to convince your grandmother we’re in love.”
Alex’s eyes snap wide. “I said we were dating, not that we were in love.”
“Semantics.”
Her jaw ticks.
“Speaking of sweet grandmothers, I should check on yours.” Before Alex can answer, I spin back into the joined living room and lay a hand on Mags’s shoulder.
“Can I get you something to drink while you wait? Unfortunately, I can only offer water or a protein shake.” I give her a playful wink. “Not that you need the shake. You look pretty strong already.”
Mags grips my fingers as she laughs. “You and your kind words.”
“It’s not hard when they’re the truth.”
She winks right back at me. “Water will be fine.”
I’m halfway to the kitchen when I catch Alex’s gaze, smirking while I take a large step backward.
Knowing I’m up to something, she sets down the knife and lunges forward, but…just like last time, I’m much quicker.
I drop into a crouch beside Mags. “I was hoping to ask you a favor. I’m loving this time with you tonight, but I had plans to take Alex out tomorrow—just the two of us. Would that be okay with you?”
My fake girlfriend barely restrains her groan as she buries her face in her hands.
“Yes, of course.” Mags sets her warm hand on my forearm. “I didn’t even consider how surprising Alex with a visit would impact your plans.”
I cover her fingers with my own. “How could you? She kept you in the dark.”
“Dearest, uh…man meat, can you help me in the kitchen? You were supposed to be making this meal, after all.” Alex’s saccharine voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
“You’re absolutely correct, sunbeam. My apologies.”
“Before you leave, can you help me up? I’d like to use the restroom,” Mags asks while pushing against the arm of the couch.
After assisting Mags to the—now clean—bathroom, I barely make it two steps into the kitchen before Alex flattens me against the refrigerator—sans knife, luckily.
“We’re not going on a date tomorrow,” she whisper-hisses. “If I have to hang out in a coffee shop for hours so Mags thinks I’m gallivanting around the city with you, so be it. Why are you complicating things?”
I let the smile curving my mouth spread slowly. “It’s realistic that I’d want to take you out. I was being true to our fake relationship.”
Alex finches at the emphasis I place on the word fake.
“Besides, I think you like spending time with me.”
This earns me the eyeroll of the century. “I definitely do not.”
“If you dislike me so much, why do you have me backed into a corner?”
Alex’s lashes shutter, but she quickly recovers. “You don’t listen to me unless I get in your face.”
“I don’t?”
“No.” She pokes me in the shoulder, her finger lingering. “You like to go off script with dozens of crazy ideas.”
“I think you mean fun,” I say, taking a gamble and gripping her waist with one hand.
It’s slightly too forward, but Alex’s palm flattens against my chest in response.
“None of this is fun.”
I lift my head off the cool refrigerator door, bringing our lips closer. “I beg to differ.”
The thumping of my accelerating heartbeat is replaced with sweeping orchestral music when Alex’s gaze stalls on my mouth.
As much as she likes to bicker with me, I’ve noticed how she seems to track my movements.
It could be the attentive reporter in her, but I’m betting it has more to do with the crackling chemistry between us.
Our uneven breaths mix for three heavy seconds before Mags rattles the door handle to the bathroom, and Alex jumps back like she’s been burned.
“I’ll let you…” She takes a steadying breath, straightening her shoulders. “I’m going to catch up with Mags while you cook.”
I nod, still a little shaken myself.
As I prepare dinner, I notice how Alex turns herself sideways on the couch, pulling one leg beneath her. She keeps tucking her hair behind her ear to peek at me from the corner of her eye.
I smile into the pot of simmering marinara.
This fake relationship might finally prove to Alex that I’m not quite the enemy she thinks I am.