Page 35 of Risky Match
I’d rather have eyes on Blake though. They aren’t as fit as he is and don’t have his perfect facial features.
“As much as I’d love that, it wouldn’t be appropriate while I’m working. They are easy on the eyes though. Did you see the thigh muscles on the taller one? You know what that means.”
I laugh. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably. I’ll tell you later.”
“Sounds good. Time to focus on practice.”
Erin steps aside as I greet Martina with a nod.
“Perfect timing,” Martina says. “Paulo and Rafael just arrived. They’re from Brazil, supporting a few of their country’s players. They had free time today and agreed to hit with us.”
“That’s fantastic, guys. Thanks for helping me. My partner is prepping for his singles match. Now, please help me with your names. Which of you is Paulo and which is Rafael?”
The taller, leaner one steps up. “I’m Paulo. It’s an honor to meet you.”
I nod and smile. Turning to the more muscular one, I say, “So you must be Rafael.”
“Correct. Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness.”
“There’s no need for titles on the court. I’m Brianna here. Let’s get started.”
Martina steps in. “Rafael is going to partner with you, Bri. He’ll mimic Blake’s style as closely as possible. He’s also been briefed on the hand signals.”
“Excellent. That will help me adjust to his playing style.”
“Trust me, Josh and I have a plan to get you both ready—even with limited practice time.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Rafael turns out to be an excellent player and remarkably familiar with Blake’s game. The practice is far more productive than I expected. I’ll have to ask Martina how they plan to help Blake adjust to mine.
Time flies. As another player and his team arrive for the next slot on our court, I pack up my gear and turn to Paulo andRafael. “It was a pleasure to work with you both. Thanks again for your help.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be around if you want to practice again,” Rafael says.
“Me too,” Paulo adds.
Martina thanks them, and I wave goodbye as they leave.
I say goodbye to Martina and turn to Erin, saying, “I’m heading to the locker room for a shower. Then I’ll watch the match on Centre Court.”
“Understood. The press is asking for you. What should I tell them?”
“Can you delay? I don’t have anything to say yet, and I don’t want to miss the match.”
“I’ll text the coordinator to let them know you’ll be available later this week. We’ll take the tunnel to the locker room to avoid them.”
“Thanks, Erin. You’re a gem. Lead the way.”
“The tunnel entrance is at Aorangi just north of No. 1 Court. Follow me.”
Fans line the entrance, eagerly hoping for autographs. It warms my heart to know they’re excited to meet me because I play tennis—not just because I’m royal.
I stop to sign a few giant tennis balls and pose for selfies. As I turn to go, a girl with long braids steps in front of me, holding out a ball.
I can’t refuse her pleading eyes. “What’s your name?” I ask, taking the ball.
