“I couldn’t possibly let you manage all of this yourself, snookums,” he tells me while jogging backward. “Not with those dainty little hands of yours. Why don’t you open your door for me, and I’ll put these in your room?”
The mischievous grin on Tenny’s face twists my stomach into four distinct knots.
I catch Mags’s breathy “What a gentleman” as she begins to meander our way. Since she’s being stubborn about getting a hip replacement, she can’t move very fast anymore. Even with her hip slowing her down, Mags insists on life-long healthy habits—like always taking the stairs.
Tenny doesn’t budge when I reach the door, just stands entirely too close as I pull out my room key.
“Care to back up?” I ask, shooting daggers through my narrowed eyes.
“Care to tell me what’s going on, Ms. Stevens?” His low voice sends goosebumps down my neck.
It’s infuriating that even while I’m completely ticked at Tenny, I still react this way. As soon as this is all over, my body and I are going to have a sit-down conversation.
“Why don’t you just deny you’re my boyfriend so we can move on with our day?”
“And miss out on the fun?”
The door beeps. Tenny uses the hand holding the balloons to open it, and the mylar circles bonk me in the face with his swift movement.
“Sorry, angelcakes.”
It’s the way his voice drips with mock-sincerity that puts me over the edge.
“That’s it.”
When I storm after him, Tenny shuts the door behind us, crowding me against it.
“You’ve probably got ten seconds.” He places the bag and cup on the tiny kitchenette counter beside us and releases the balloons. “Explain.”
When I move to push past him, Tenny boxes me with hands flat against the door. “Start talking.”
He’s so close I can feel the heat of him, see the even rise and fall of his chest. Usually when I interview him, there’s a slight scent of grass and baseball dirt that clings to him, but this earlyin the day, all I can smell is his cologne. It’s bright and citrusy andwhollydistracting.
“I lied.”
His grin is almost lopsided. “Obviously,babe. Why?”
My mouth opens, but I can’t force the words out. Amelia has the freedom to stand up to our grandmother because she never scared Mags out of her wits immediately after the sudden passing of our grandfather. Mags had been too buried in the grief of losing her partner of forty-eight years to visit me while I’d been recovering—something she still feels guilty about, even though I’ve reassured her dozens of times. Ever since, she’s made it her mission to make sure I’m okay.
“It’s just very important to Mags that I’m happy.”
His eyes flick between mine. “And a boyfriend would make you happy?”
“What makes me happy doesn’t matter.”
His brows furrow. “You being happy is theonly thingthat matters.”
Something about the low sincerity in his tone, in the way he’s looking at me, frazzles my brain.
A shuddered breath slips from my tight lungs. “I—”
“Alex, honey. The door closed behind you,” Mags says from the other side of the wooden barrier. “Could you let me in?”
I open my useless lips, but nothing comes out.
Tenny surveys me for another lingering second before gently placing one hand at the base of my spine, the other between myshoulder blades, and pulling me toward him. My mind malfunctions for a second, thinking he’ll kiss me, but Tenny moves me aside to open the door.
“Mags.” He envelops her in a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Unfortunately, I do have to run, and there are some things Alex needs to straighten out.”
