Page 20 of Risky Match
The genuine hurt on her face rips at my heart. If someone told me I couldn’t play after years of waiting for an invitation, I’d be crushed.
I pull her into a hug, which is probably not allowed—but hell, what’s a bloke to do?
“I could never deprive you of your opportunity here. Of course, I’ll do it.”
Heaven knows my ache to win here is crushing me. I can’t be responsible for inflicting that level of pain upon her.
“Thank you.”
As we pull apart, our coaches approach.
Josh asks, “Have you two worked things out?”
“We have. Can you and Martina set up a couple of practice sessions this week?” I ask.
“Will do,” Josh says.
“Mr. Knight, you’ve cursed, made the princess cry, and engaged in inappropriate PDA with her. If this partnership is going to work, it will take more than a couple of practice sessions,” Martina chides.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. We’ve meshed well together before,” I say, winking at Bri.
She blushes, which ignites a different type of fire in me.
Detailed memories of our prior night together resurface. There’s no doubt she’s a distraction I don’t need right now. I’d love to spend more time with her, though. The timing is just off.
“Where are you and your team staying?” I ask.
“Martina and my physio have a small place nearby. Tonight, I’ll be at the castle with Stephen and Adrian. I’m not sure where I’m staying after that. I’ve been told not to worry about it.”
“We have an enormous house with plenty of extra space. We’re only using 4 of the 7 bedrooms. You can stay with us if you would like.”
Why did I blurt that out? Us staying in the same house would be a disaster.
“The palace is insisting that I stay somewhere that can accommodate me, my bodyguard, and my chef, but thanks for the invitation.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I’ll let them know that it’s an option, but I’m sure that they’ve made arrangements by now.”
I barely keep myself from saying I hope not. I’m definitely warming to the idea of having Bri around for the next two and a half weeks. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of two years ago.
Wait a minute. Have I lost my mind?
Playing doubles is enough of a distraction without having Bri living under the same roof. I have to find a way to remain focused on singles while allowing Bri to fulfill her dream of competing at Wimbledon.
Bloody hell! How will I do that?
This whole situation has thrown me off-kilter. My mind is racing through options.
“Did you want to practice a little now?” I ask, hoping to get it over with, so I can get back on schedule and execute my plan.
What am I saying? I’m not through with my singles practice. She needs to go—even if a certain part of my body disagrees.
“I can’t today. I have an hour drive to dinner tonight.”
“Are you meeting friends?”
“Yes. I’m catching up with Adrian and Stephen.”
