Page 32 of Winning Match
“For the most part, you enjoy your time in Spain and do whatever you wish. Work for your family’s business, join the sailing club, hang out with Bianca.”
“That sounds like a vacation.”
Ale grins. “Why do you think so many Americans are moving to Spain?”
I laugh. “That’s it? Hang out and have fun?”
“I’d like you to come to paella at my parents’ house one Sunday,” he says slowly. “It doesn’t have to be this weekend, but soon. Attend events with me. Appear at a few games.”
“I can do that.”
He stands from the couch and meets me near the window. Holding out his hand he says, “Ten weeks, Marli. I’ll get a meeting lined up between you and Costa in the next month. Did you get your credit cards sorted?”
“I’m calling my bank next.”
“I’ll make sure everything you need is taken care of,” he vows.
“That’s insane. I’m?—”
“My girlfriend,” he cuts me off, his eyes serious. “I’ll take care of you while you’re here, at my request, in my city.”
I shake my head slowly, disbelief rolling through me. But I hold out my hand and admit, “I’m trusting you, Ale.”
“Alejandro García,” he murmurs his full name as he wraps his fingers around mine. His hand is big and strong against my grasp. “And you can.”
“Marlowe Claire Prescott,” I offer, my heart flip-flopping, my body warm. “And I hope so.”
He pulls me closer into his frame, wrapping his arm around me before pressing a kiss to my temple. There’s a safety in his embrace—a reassurance—that settles me.
“You need to eat, and I need to call my agent,” Ale says, guiding me toward the trays of food. “I want you to understand that my life is often half-lived in the media. That’s why those two men met me at the club last night. I called in extra security since there were so many eyes on us.”
“The black SUV that picked us up at the back entrance of the club,” I breathe out, understanding dawning.
“Yes. Our dates, our interactions, even you going out to shop with Bianca will probably end up on social media. People will comment about us, about you, and sometimes, it’s hurtful.”
I grin when I see the stack of pancakes. “I understand, Ale. Not from firsthand experience but…listen, my family, my grandpa and my dad, they’re everything to me. If I can take the burden off their shoulders by securing José Costa as a client, I can take whatever comes with it.”
Ale hesitates for a beat before nodding. “Sometimes fans are…intense.”
That pulls me up short and I turn to look at him. “Intense how?”
“Fan mail that crosses a line by sending naked photos or intimate items. Fans showing up at restaurants and hotels, before I arrive. I had two stalkers in the past.” At the alarm on my face, he sighs and reaches for me. “I want you to know what you’re getting into. Once I make this call…we’ll need to issue a press release and there will be no turning back.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“No.” He snorts. “God, no. But I want you to understand that parts of this won’t be easy.”
I think about Dad and the memories that slip from his mind. About Grandpa and the exhaustion of keeping a business afloat in one’s eighties. About the Sewing Circle—the women who have stepped up for me in the wake of every wave of grief. I cannot let them down; I won’t. “I understand.”
“Vale. Okay.”
As I enjoy my pancakes and coffee, I watch as he calls his agent. I study his bright green eyes, broad shoulders, and long, strong legs. I bet Ale could easily lift me, carry me into the bedroom, and toss me on the bed. I roll my lips together, wondering how it would feel, the weight of his frame hovering over mine.
This gorgeous man is going to be my boyfriend for the next ten weeks.
Fake boyfriend. A fake relationship.
Shit. Can I really pull this off? With him, looking like that, and showing me so much consideration?
