Page 144 of Double Fault

He presses a hand to his heart. “You wound me, Curls. But yes. This will be my second Olympics.”

“Did you win?”

A rough laugh escapes him, sending water dribbling down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his wrist. “Not even close.”

“Maybe you will this time.”

“Maybe.” His expression grows distant, like he’s reliving the last time or maybe visualizing the upcoming matches. “I’d love to. It’s one of my dreams—to earn an Olympic medal before I retire.”

He pops the cap back onto his water and shifts my way.

“Anyway, after my interviews, I thought we could hang out together. Maddie’s spending the day with Fisher, so you have the day off.”

“Really?” I perk up. I’ve had few entire days off since we were in Texas last. More often than not, I’m with Maddie, even when it’s not required, because I genuinely enjoy being around her.

“Yep. Do whatever you want.” He finishes eating. “You have my card. Use it.”

I roll my eyes. “I hate when you say that.”

“Why?” he asks with an adorably confused frown. He stands from the bed and gathers up our trash. “Believe it or not, I’m rich. Let me spoil you.”

My whole life, I’ve had to fend for myself, and that independent part of me is itching to rear her ugly head, to tell him that I don’t need his help. But why? He’s offering to take care of me, so why won’t I let him?

“Maybe I’ll see if the spa has any openings.”

He grins in triumph, eyes crinkling at the corners, and rounds the bed until he’s standing at my side. “Thank you. It’ll make me happy for you to pamper yourself.” With a kiss to my lips, he takes a step back. “I’ll see you later. I should be back no later than four. I—” He chokes out a cough and presses his hand to his chest, eyes wide. “I’ll see you then.”

My heart lurches. Did he almost tell me he loves me? Holy shit.

I don’t call him out on it. Hell no. I’m not ready to open that particular can of worms.

Once he’s gone, I curl up and pull the covers up to my chin. I should call the spa and see if there’s any availability, but after last night’s activities, I’m in desperate need of a nap.

An hour later, still bleary-eyed, I call the spa, and though I’m told they’re booked for the day, the woman on the other end of the line asks for my name and room number.

Once I’ve given it to her, she taps at her keyboard and says, “Ah, it seems Mr. Baker has taken care of it. Any and all services you want are available.”

With a shake of my head, I press my lips together so I don’t start laughing. I should’ve known he’d call the spa himself to ensure I get my ass there.

I schedule a massage, and I fall back against the mattress when the receptionist says, “There’s a note here from Mr. Baker that mentions you might be interested in a facial, manicure, and pedicure. Would you like me to put you down for those too?”

Freaking Noah. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said it would make him happy if I pampered myself.

“Um…” Guilt niggles at my stomach, but clearly, he wants me to do this, and the idea of being pampered from head to toe is too tempting to pass up. “Yeah.”

“Okay. How does eleven sound?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

After I end the call, I sprawl out like a starfish, unable to keep a goofy grin from spreading across my face.

This man.

He’s too good to be true.

While I wait for my appointment, I pick up the room. It goes a long way toward making me feel better. I can’t think properly in a messy space.

I find my laptop buried beneath the hoodie I stole from Noah and plug it in when I discover the battery is dead. When it’s gotenough juice to power up, I navigate to my inbox, and just as I feared, I’m met with at least one hundred new emails. Most of them are from mailing lists I swear I never signed up for with a few random ones from Lucy that mostly involve asking for my opinion on collages she’s made for various nursery themes. I’m shocked she hasn’t texted or called me to see why I haven’t responded to these.

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