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. “Thatdoesn’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.
