by Nana Malone
Tami’s body heated with embarrassment, and she habitually glanced away from Mr. Jacobs as she explained. “I didn’t get that close at all. I played competitively in high school for a little while and met with some scouts, but my mom got sick so tennis had to wait.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he responded in the familiar way, growing slightly stiffer as his intended conversational route no longer appeared to be safe.
Bryce saved them with a nod to someone behind Mr. Jacob’s shoulder. “Would you excuse us, please?” he requested, pulling Tami along with him towards a corner where Echo stood with Jen.
“Thank you so much for that,” Tami said with a sigh of relief.
“It’s intimidating at first, but you’ll get used to it. It’s part of the family gig.”
Somehow, she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
And it turned out Bryce was wrong. It got worse when reporters got involved. She unfortunately found that there were a number of reporters who appeared to be more interested in their romance than their approach to the day’s matches. Tami was quick to jump on the initial question and quash it, though. Bryce might be comfortable, but no one was calling him the damsel in distress.
“The only questions I will respond to about my relationship with Bryce Coulter will be those that pertain to what happens on the tennis court,” she informed them all.
From the back of the small group of reporters she heard someone ask, “Have you two ever had sex on a tennis court?” The query was followed by a ripple of laughter.
Tami’s face remained stoic for a moment. “Well, I guess we’re done here, then. I thought you might like to hear about how we decide to let the other team make a backhand shot when we’re clear for a forehand but it doesn’t sound like you’re interested. Thank you for your time.”
Bryce backed her play. “We’re happy to answer any questions about the game.” When the room fell silent, he muttered his own thanks and followed her out.
She fumed on the way back to their hotel. “I wonder if they make a point of asking all the mixed doubles teams if they’re sleeping together.”
“We are sleeping together,” Bryce pointed out, as he flopped facedown on the bed. He had clearly been overdoing it a little. They didn’t have as much time off to recover before their next tournament. But they were in a good groove, and he didn’t want anything ruining that rhythm.
“That’s beside the point,” she insisted, stripping off her shirt, balling it up, and tossing it in a corner. “It’s sexist. If we were interviewed separately, I bet you wouldn’t get anything like that. They’d ask you about how your leg is doing, what’s it like coming back and playing doubles, are you just waiting till we break up to go back to playing singles?”
Bryce laughed. “Not going to happen.” There was a hint of bite behind his words.
“It’s not funny,” she insisted. “It’s humiliating.” She walked over to the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling him and rubbing his back through his shirt. He groaned as she worked on loosening the tension in his muscles.
“Keep doing what you did today and eventually they’ll stop asking. Anyone who has eyes and knows tennis could see how well we played. How well you played. It’s not like you’re riding my coattails at all,” he reminded her.
She began inching his shirt up so she could get her hands on his bare back. He helped by pulling it off the rest of the way.
“Of course,” he said, letting his shirt fall to the floor. “If you really wanted to shut them up, you could just start competing in the ladies’ singles tournaments as well. You wouldn’t have as much time to do those kinds of interviews, and once you start winning on your own you can tell them all to shove it.”
Her laughter shook the bed gently and Bryce twisted beneath her so that he was on his back. He propped himself up while she shifted her position so that they were wrapped around each other.
“If they keep up that way, I might just do that,” she told him, leaning in to kiss him as he rolled her onto her back and began fiddling with the waistband of her shorts.
Twenty-Eight
Over the next several weeks, they won two more tournaments, and placed second in one of the larger tournaments. Tami began entering the ladies’ singles brackets where they didn’t conflict with the mixed doubles matches, and had a few interesting wins before pulling double duty left her too worn to keep battling deeper on the singles’ side.
The tournament winnings were nowhere near what the grand slams promised for the winners, but even splitting the prize with Bryce—though he insisted on putting his share away ‘towards their future’—and paying the necessary percentages to Dmitri and their managers, it was more than she had ever made working retail.
Bryce grew more intense during their practices leading up to the US Open—as Dmitri promised, they’d managed to secure a spot. Their managers were fielding calls from reporters wanting to do profiles on Bryce or the pair of them together. Bryce categorically refused to even consider the offers. Even his family had noticed. They brought it up at dinner after their latest win.
“You don’t want to jinx anything?” Echo teased. Brent and most of the others at the table sided with Bryce.
“I don’t want to let us get distracted,” Bryce clarified.
Bryce’s grandfather scoffed, but remained silent. Brent closed his eyes, the strain of keeping his father in check during even smaller family gatherings clearly wearing on him. Echo explained that he’d gotten worse since handing the reins of Legacy Sports to Brent—with no guarantee his opinions would carry the weight they once did, he’d taken to offering them more frequently and with less tact.
“And what about you, Tami?” Julia asked from the other end of the long table. “Are you nervous about competing on such a large stage, or does the thought excite you?”
Tami swallowed her mouthful of buttered roll carefully before responding. “I still find the whole thing a bit hard to believe, really,” she answered. “I’ve never even been to a professional match before—except the last few months of competing in them, which I don’t think really counts. I’ve watched them on TV, but that’s hardly the same. I don’t know. I guess… It’ll be bittersweet, more than anything.”
“Your parents,” Echo murmured quietly, and Tami nodded.
“They wanted this for me and so I feel like they’d be happy for me, but I can’t help wishing they could actually be here for it, too.”
There were a few quiet moments of solemnity before Fox lightened the mood—he’d been staying at home a lot because the minor league hockey preseason was still a few weeks away, and the team’s training center was nearby.
“My guess is you’ll be fine; it’s Bryce who’ll be puking with nerves beforehand.”
“Nonsense,” Rory blustered, missing the humor and plowing forward. “You’ve nothing to worry about so long as you make a decent showing. The media’s already on your side, and that’s half the battle. They love a good comeback story, though it’d be more impressive if you were doing it on your own,” he added, eyeing Tami.
Feeling’s mutual, old man.
Brent cleared his throat before proposing a toast to wish the pair luck.
“We’re all going to be there,” he promised, setting his glass back on the table.
“Even Dax?” Tami asked skeptically.
“His school likes it when he’s seen out and about with the family,” Echo muttered. “Especially when he’s with Gramps,” she added in a whisper.
Twenty-Nine
Bryce scanned the party looking for Tami. Her manager had called, so she’d taken the opportunity to make a quick escape. He finished his drink and smiled to himself. She might never get used to the spotlight. It was okay, though. The madness took some getting used to.
There was more than one familiar face in the crowd, but he was perfectly happy to stay out of the fray. It was too easy to get caught up in all the welcome parties. And he for one was focused on what t
hey had to do. He’d been telling Tami to relax, sure. But that didn’t mean he’d be letting it all hang out.
The last time any of these people saw him, they’d been watching as he’d been wheeled out on a stretcher. He wasn’t fucking around, this time—he was here to work. Well, and to make sure Tami was getting what she needed. He checked his watch. Speaking of which, she really should have been back by now. Or maybe she was waiting for him to come and get her.
As if hearing the call to arms, his dick stirred. It had been six months, and if it was possible he wanted her more every day. But as much as he wanted to make love to her as often as possible, he also wanted to simply hold her. That span of minutes in the morning just before the sun came up, when she wrapped herself around him, completely oblivious that she was sharing a small part of herself with him, those were his favorite times of the day.
When she relaxed and trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her.
It was the sole reason he still hadn’t told her he loved her. And it was chipping away at him a little every day. There were a million times every day that he almost said it. But he knew she'd run.
There were times when she’d be looking at him and he was convinced she was about to say it, but then she didn't. Still holding herself back. The frustration was killing him. Why couldn’t she just see how much he cared about her? Because someone did a number on her.
Well, when he met that fucker he was going to have a few things to say to him. In the meantime, he could be patient. He loved her. She’d see that. He’d done all this for her. No. No such thing as altruism, buddy. Okay, he’d done it for the both of them. But without her, he doubted he’d be playing now. She’d saved him. They’d saved each other.
But it was more than just the tennis. Without her, he’d still have his blinders on, living in his privileged little world. He liked this version of himself much better.
He skimmed around the party guests, headed for the door Tami had left through, when someone stopped him. “You’re Bryce Coulter, right?”
He really wasn't in the mood, but he stopped and plastered a smile on his face. There was no telling when he was speaking to some face behind a sponsor. “Yep, you caught me.”
“You’re leaving the party so soon?”
“Yeah, I’m just checking on my g—uh, partner. She vanished to take a call from her manager. She might have gotten lost.” Shit, that was close. She wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, and he agreed. He wanted the world to see what she could do, not for everyone to get distracted by the fact that she was dating him.
“Oh. Uh, do you mind if I walk out with you? I wanted to chat with you really quick. I've been following your career since San Diego.”
Bryce studied him again. They were about the same age. His look said I-grew-up-in-La-Jolla, or Rancho Santa Fe, and screamed money. “I— Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Michael Rollings.”
Familiar name. Bryce shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” They skirted most of the partygoers, and Bryce opted for the fastest route through one of the conference rooms. An aide had shown he and Tami this way earlier. It was the fastest way to avoid the press that congregated in the main hall.
“So listen, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. About Tami.”
The hairs on the back of Bryce’s neck stood at attention. “Who did you say you were again?”
The guy sighed. “Look man, I’m not trying to cause you any trouble. I'm just trying to warn you. My father is the CEO for Rollings Liquor.”
That’s where he’d heard the name before.
“I knew her a few years ago. She was working some bar then, and retail, I think. Certainly looks like she’s reinvented herself enough to get your attention.”
Bryce’s hands curled into fists before he forced them open again. This was him. This asshole was the reason she didn't smile enough. That her laugh was so guarded. “Did you have something to actually say to me, or did you want to commence with the ass-kicking now?”
Michael put his hands up. “Yo, settle down, man. I’m doing you a favor. She was all over my dick, man. Trying to marry me and shit. She’s after Coulter coffers.”
“And you’re telling me this because…” Bryce let his voice trail off.
“Look, I’m just looking out for you. I wish I’d had someone looking out for me then. I certainly didn’t listen to my family when they tried to intervene.”
And then it hit Bryce. This was Gramps. Even with everything that was happening with getting him to play again, the old man was interfering. He’d even managed to dredge up this relic from her past. He loved his family, but this was taking shit too far. “Oh, so then you told them about how you were sleeping with Tami when you were engaged?”
The color drained from the asshole’s face. “She told you about me?”
Bryce shrugged. “No, actually. But you know we had that past relationships talk. And she mentioned some piece-of-crap loser who’d attempted to dick with her. She didn’t really say much beyond that.”
Michael's face twisted into a mask of rage. “You know what? Fuck you. You’re the one who fell in love with a girl who’ll spread her legs for anyone with money. Don’t be pissed because I have the decency to warn you about your little who—”
Bryce’s fist connected with the smug asshole’s nose before the word was even out of his mouth. He’d never really been in a fight before, other than with his brothers. He’d gotten into some MMA stuff for workout purposes and flexibility, and boxing for footwork, but he’d never imagined actually using any of those skills.
But the moment the asshole started with that word, it was like instinct. Michael’s shocked gasp wasn’t nearly as satisfying as watching the guy sink to his knees. Bryce leaned forward, his voice full of cool, icy fury. “If I ever hear you say her name again, I will make it my mission in life to dismantle you and everything you hold dear.”
As he walked away, he flexed his hand and prayed it didn’t swell. He and Tami still had matches to play.
Thirty
Tami stared at the massive crowd in front of them. Bryce was like a fairy godfather. He knew that the pacing and the crowds and the speed of it would make her crazy. She was used to playing more matches in a day, and always felt the urge to head to the practice courts to keep from losing the momentum they had developed early. She knew she was jumpy. As though she never came down from the first adrenaline high.
He kept insisting that she spend some of the time relaxing. Regardless of how they did now, they would be on the road through most of October and November, playing tournaments in the South, and she’d be pulling double duty on the singles courts again.
She was building her stamina up, but he kept insisting she’d make it further if she competed solely as a singles competitor. She didn’t want to think about that. She needed him. That pinched a little, but it was the truth. He kept her grounded. Even if he didn’t feel the same way about her as she felt about him. She was in love with him. He’d never said the words, but she knew he cared about her. And she’d take what she could have of him. It would hurt like hell when he left. But she’d be okay, because she’d hold on to these memories and this dream he had given her.
She slid a glance at him as he led her through the crowd toward their seats. She doubted he even noticed, but there was no discernible favoring of his knee when he walked. He was almost at the point where he needed to start working on his singles game, too. It would take a while for him to work his way back up, but he could do it. She’d never seen anyone fight so hard.
Except you.
Playing as a team was more for his confidence than anything. She knew he thought that with her, she would make up for any deficiency. But his stamina was coming back. He could do it. He just had to believe he could. His family wasn’t helping. These days, they kept their mouths shut. Well, all except for Gramps, but she could see the expectant looks. And if she could see them, then Bryce definitely saw.
But this morning, Bryce had told her not to worry about any of that, that they were going to have some fun. She’d never seen a professional singles match on this level before. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was giddy. She had to contain her excitement at getting to see it. And it didn’t break their rules. The tickets had been provided by a sponsor.
She hid under her baseball cap, also provided generously by one of their sponsors, and kept her head low, her eyes shielded by her sunglasses. Bryce was more relaxed and comfortable being seen, though he held tightly to her hand when people in their section whispered and snapped a few pictures of them. He might be fine with the scrutiny, but she sure as hell wasn’t. She might never get used to it. But as the match progressed, she relaxed. In a perfect world, this was how she’d want to spend the day. Just hanging with him. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he squeezed her knee.
From behind them, someone said, “Coulter, is that you?”
They both looked up to see Jason Cartwright with his family in tow. Tami could only stare. Holy shit. That was the Jason freaking Cartwright. And wow, his wife was stunning. She’d seen plenty of pictures of them of course. Their son carried their daughter on his back piggyback style.
Bryce seemed less star struck. “Cartwright. What’s up man?” The two of them shook hands and introductions were made all around.
Tami could barely contain her excitement when she took Jason’s hand. His son Nick’s as well. Nick was starting to make a name for himself. He was still young. Nineteen, maybe Twenty, but there was speculation they’d be seeing both Cartwright’s at the Australian open.
