31. Anna

31

ANNA

T wo days later, an email drops into my inbox as I’m sorting paperwork and messages from my team. It’s something from Adam that he’s forwarded on from … the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show ?

I can get tickets for this!

I take in the picture of a cute poodle and a smile curves over my lips. Dammit . I would love to go to this. I stare at the pot of pens on the back of my desk. But … but … I told him we shouldn’t be seen out with each other.

I pick up my phone.

Thanks for the invite to the Westminster Kennel Club Show.

Looks amazing, huh?

We’d be out in public together, though, wouldn’t we?

I should be relieved at the excuse to get out of it, but all I feel is twisty inside. The fun we had discussing doing something like this when we agreed to be friends. And that first night when he came to the apartment and let the team do his hair then stood patiently by my side, like some incredible right-hand man, letting me hang on to him … All that feels like so long ago. I pay people to support me; it’s never freely given. The dots start and stop again, and again … and then go quiet. I sit in my office chair for five minutes, and nothing more comes through.

Fuck. Sometimes those decisions you’re forced into when you give up something that means a lot to you are the most painful. Like leaving my parents’ house when I was fourteen to train in Spain—I was so lonely. Tennis got less solitary only when I won the money to build a team around me. But, in the end, I pay them. They’re employees, not friends. Adam was a friend.

I really wanted to go to that show . I kick my seat back from my desk and head to the kitchen, wrenching open the door to the fridge as I glance at the clock on the wall. Could I have my snack early?

I pull out the food tray and scowl down at the protein bars and prepared fruit. Do I ever have any fun?

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

Leave it with me.

My mouth drops open. What? What is he going to do now? I clench my fist. Goddamn all men. He disrupts my rest day, and now I won’t be able to stop thinking about having a day out. A day off . A break. What are you talking about, Anna? You have never wanted a break. I fling myself on the couch and turn on the television, but it’s set to the sports channel and watching other people be good at their sport right now is more than I can bear. I flick through the channels as my shoulders droop, and I chew on an apple before flinging the core in the trash and heading back to my computer.

Two days later, after practice, another text from Adam lands in my messages:

I’ve managed to arrange a VIP tour at the dog show. You might have to talk to staff who are tennis fans and sign some photographs.

Oh God! He’s arranged a tour? How ungrateful would I be to refuse when he’s gone to so much trouble?

That sounds amazing!

I’ll see you on Monday at 6 p.m. Should we meet at Madison Square Garden?

Sounds good.

I pick up a pot of fruit and open it up, popping a bit of pineapple in my mouth. When did someone last treat me to a surprise? I’ve had beautiful gifts from fans, drawings, things they’ve made, but no friend has ever done anything like this for me. It’s so generous of him. Why is he doing this? I press my hand into my chest. At least I’m not the most boring athlete in the world anymore.

Pepper appears at my feet with her pink rabbit in her jaws.

“Mommy’s going to a dog show. I’m sorry but I don’t think you can come,” I say, grinning down at her. “Should I see if I can find you a cute boyfriend while I’m there?”

The idea of adorable little miniature Peppers blooms in my head. I wolf down the pineapple and grab a protein bar and an herbal tea. Am I mad? I could never take care of anything like a litter of puppies. And the thought makes me stomp back to my bedroom.

When I meet Adam at the side gate to the venue, he’s chatting with a dark-haired man in an official-looking blue suit. His hair is being buffeted by the wind, and he’s laughing as he talks. My eyes track down his body in a pair of tight jeans and a fitted Henley with a smart jacket over the top. He looks like a model. I’ve seen him naked. His taut abs and his …

Stop, Anna!

I force myself to think about him finding another woman, and it hollows me out. But it’s not like I’ll be around; I’ll be in Australia for the Open after Christmas … which is two weeks away now. The grumpiness of the last few days returns with a vengeance. The man in the suit’s eyes widen slightly as I approach.

“Ms. Talanova!”

“Please, call me Anna.”

He inclines his head with a smile. “Anna. I’m Kevin. I’m honored to meet you. We’re so delighted that you decided to come to the Kennel Club today. I’m going to be your host for the event.”

My eyes flick to Adam. Wow, the VIP tours here are good.

“Everyone’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

My eyebrows rise into my hairline, and Adam takes my elbow like he thinks I might bolt.

“As I mentioned on the phone, Anna doesn’t want any publicity for this visit,” he says as I examine the side of his face. “Being in the stands would be difficult. We really appreciate you accommodating us.”

Goddammit, do they normally do tours like this? Did he specifically request some kind of private thing for me? When did he become so demanding? He’s better than my PR team. Speaking of which, I should warn Damian. Autographs mean photographs, which inevitably end up online. I just need to keep Adam out of them.

“Not at all! Not at all!” Kevin says. “There’s only three of us in the loop about Anna’s visit today, so it’s all very hush-hush.” He makes a zipping movement across his lips, and I immediately want to giggle. “Though I’m sure when the dog owners see you, they’ll want autographs, maybe pictures. I hope that’s all right. Please tell me if anything isn’t acceptable and I can smooth it over.” He wrings his hands. “Do we need a secret signal?” he adds like it’s only just occurred to him, and I want to laugh again .

“I can let you know quietly, Kevin, if you’re with us all day,” Adam says.

“Good, good,” he says, rubbing his hands together.

Adam’s eyes tip down toward me. “Are photographs okay?”

“I’m happy to do a few selfies with people and sign some autographs. But I’m going to have to touch base with my PR team and tell them that some pictures might appear online.”

Kevin beams. “Of course! Let’s head inside, and you can call them.”

He turns and heads into the venue, and I squeeze Adam’s arm and lean in.

“Do they usually do VIP tours?” I mumble into Adam’s ear.

He shakes his head.

“What the hell did you say to him to get him to agree to a private tour?”

“I might have said that you were concerned about being harassed given recent events. He said the security was high here because of the large number of valuable dogs, and he was only too happy to oblige. He’s a huge tennis fan, apparently. He nearly had a conniption when I told him you wanted to visit. I didn’t have to do any persuading at all.” He winks at me.

I roll my eyes at him. “Glad to know I’m classed in the same category as a valuable dog.”

I sound like a grumpy old bear at best and, at worst, a diva, but when my eyes slide toward Adam, he’s laughing quietly.

“I’ve always thought of you that way,” he says, eyes twinkling, and the way they crease around the corners makes my chest go tight.

But he just pats my hand and draws me inside the venue, and we head down some white corridors into the bowels of the building. Madison Square Garden . Wow. I’ve always dreamed of doing an exhibition tennis event here. Maybe one day.

We head into a little area that’s set out with muffins, cookies, and a tea and coffee maker. Two women are standing chatting, both fidgeting, but they break out into beaming smiles as soon as we enter.

“Would you like a tea or coffee, Anna?” Kevin says.

“If you have any herbal tea, that would be lovely.”

“I’ll have a coffee,” Adam rumbles beside me. He’s dropped into his role of second wheel. A quiet solid presence by my side.

“No problem. Can I introduce you to Belle Brown and Amanda Davis, both part of our team running this event?” Kevin adds.

“Oh! Ms. Talanova. I’m a huge tennis fan,” Belle gushes as she darts forward, clasping my hands in hers. “I couldn’t believe you were coming to visit us today. It’s like a dream come true.”

Amanda nods along at her side, still beaming.

“To be honest, I think you have the dream job here,” I say. “All these beautiful dogs!”

They both laugh, and my shoulders ease. I haven’t been out and met any real fans for a while. I forget that most people are polite and nice … I easily forget it.

“Would you two ladies like a photograph?” I say.

Belle presses her hand to her chest. “Oh yes! That would be amazing!” she squeaks, scrabbling for her phone.

“And me!” Kevin interjects, waving his own phone.

“I’ll take it,” Adam says, stepping forward and taking Belle’s phone out of her hand, then smiling and nodding and directing people into position, his long fingers gripping the edges of her phone. He ends up taking photographs for everyone, and Kevin keeps saying he can’t believe he now has a picture of Anna Talanova on his phone, making me laugh. Then Kevin beavers around sorting all the drinks, and I turn to Amanda and Belle.

“Tell me about the dogs.”

Amanda claps her hands. “Well, I don’t know about you, Anna, but I’m a woman of action. How about we go and see some dogs instead? We thought you might like a trip to the benching area where all the competitors are groomed and prepped. Belle and I can take you through some of the breeds and features, and you can talk to some owners.”

Belle narrows her eyes. “And maybe see some Papillons, too?”

“I would die on a hill for that,” I say, laughing.

My eyes meet Adam’s, and he’s looking at me with such warmth that my heart stutters in my chest.

“Pepper, isn’t it?” Belle says, and I nod, delight spreading through me. “I follow her Instagram. I’ve been enjoying the dog toys recently.” She gestures at Adam, and he raises his eyebrows as my lips curl up.

When we head into the grooming tent, it’s stacked high with crates and crammed with tables. Dog owners brushing, trimming, and spraying in preparation for their turn in the show. It’s a hive of activity and what appears to be some very bored dogs.

Adam leans into me. “I’m sure there’s a Gary Larson cartoon in here somewhere.”

“When dogs primp, you mean,” I say.

My stomach wobbles when he grins down at me. Goddamn him, he needs to stop being so fucking charming all the time.