Page 22 of Marring an Athlete

She grabbed the towel next to her and started blotting her face. “Well, it’s not like I don’t try. There aren’t a whole lot of good ones left.” Her shoulders tightened as she glanced at him. “And you’re not the expert on relationships. You go through women, like you would tissues during a cold. One use, and you throw them away.” She threw the towel onto the counter for emphasis. He could see the fire in her eyes as her gaze raced over him.

Suddenly, he felt badly. He hadn’t meant to make her angry. He just wanted to protect her. Even if that meant protecting her from herself.

He stepped forward and reached out his hand. “I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Truce?”

Her gaze dropped to his hand, and then back up to his face. She hesitated and then sighed. “This is not what we are here to do. We can’t turn on each other now. McKenna and Sam need our help,” she said as she extended her hand to meet his.

Warmth spread up his arm from her touch. He wanted to tease her about her obvious attempt at a firm handshake, considering how small her hand was in his. But she looked serious, so he just nodded.

“Deal?” she asked.

“Deal about what?”

She studied him. “I won’t talk about your past relationships, if we don’t talk about mine.”

He nodded. That worked perfectly for him. The less she knew about his mistakes, the better. He shook her hand up and down a few times. “I can get on board with that.”

“Good.”

They broke contact, and Michael made his way out of the bathroom and into the room. His gaze fell to the deck, and suddenly he had a desire to jump into the hot tub. Let all the stress from the last few days melt away.

He grabbed his suitcase and plopped it on the bed. As he glanced around, he realized there was only one bed. “So, what are we going to do about the sleeping situation?” he called toward the bathroom.

“Sleeping situation?” Anna appeared in the doorway. She’d let her hair down, and it moved against her face.

Michael forced his mind to focus on their conversation and not on how soft her skin looked in the light. “Yeah. One bed. Two single people?” He motioned between the two of them.

Anna’s cheeks flushed as she glanced around. “There’s a couch?”

Michael turned to see the small love seat on the other side of the room. It couldn’t have been longer than four feet. “I’d need that to be about twice as long.”

Anna walked over and sat down. After a few attempts to get comfortable, she sighed. “Yeah, there’s no way I can sleep on that either.” She squinted at the bed. “I guess we can share.”

He forced a smile. “Sounds good,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

She held up her finger. “I don’t think so, Michael Jones. No shenanigans.” She walked over to her purse and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

He shook out his swim trunks. “Of course. Ms. Anna, always making lists.”

“Well, I figured we should get the specifics down before we continue with this fake relationship thing.” She emphasized her words with the click of her pen.

“Alright, if it helps you feel better, I’ll try to stick to rules. But just remember, I may not be able to keep from breaking them.” He held up his hands in surrender and made his way over to the couch where he sat down. The material barely moved as he leaned back. He could see why Anna didn’t want to sleep on it.

“Okay, no shenanigans is number one,” she said, moving to the arm chair across from him.

“How would one classify a shenanigan?”

She glanced up at him and her cheeks reddened. “Well, you know. No. . . bed stuff.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Bed stuff.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Yes. Bed stuff. Like what real married people do on there.”

Was it bad that he thought she looked adorable sitting there, stumbling over her words? He couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips. “I wouldn’t know what married people do. I’ve never been married.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve acted like you were,” she said as she studied the pad of paper in front of her.

“We should probably talk about sex. Seeing how that will probably be a question they ask us in therapy.” There, he said it. And he loved watching her squirm.

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