The Unforgiving Minute (16 page)

Josh flinched slightly, evidently taken by surprise by Ryan’s sudden movement. “It’s just the way he is,” he said again, but his words had lost their earlier assurance. Now he sounded like he was just trying to pacify Ryan.

“God,” Ryan groaned, sinking down onto the couch and running his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I just don’t get what his problem is.” He’d done nothing wrong, so why was he being judged like this? What sort of twisted mind did Roger Andrews have, for fuck’s sake? “God,” he said again, and scrubbed his hands through his hair.

After a few minutes, Josh sat down on the couch next to Ryan, and his closeness helped Ryan’s anger slowly ebb away. “Damn it,” he said at last, looking at Josh. “Did you say something about a drink?”

“Let me get changed and we’ll go.”

“You might want to shower as well,” Ryan said. When Josh raised his eyebrows enquiringly, he elaborated, “You smell like coconut.”

J
OSH
took Ryan to a bar he knew out in the hills. It was quiet and nobody bothered them at their table in the corner, despite the fact that, even with his ball cap pulled low, Josh had evidently been recognized by most of the other patrons. The red Ferrari in which they’d pulled into the parking lot probably hadn’t helped them in that respect. Ryan had rolled his eyes on seeing it and demanded of Josh, “Could you
be
any more clichéd?”

But actually, it was the first time since he’d arrived in California that Ryan had seen Josh look really happy. He took the winding road at speeds that would have terrified Ryan if he hadn’t been familiar with the swiftness of Josh’s reactions out on court. As it was, he simply felt the same exhilaration that was written across Josh’s face as the car clung to the road, gliding through even the sharpest corners with grace and ease.

Josh only had one beer, which calmed Ryan down enough so he only had a couple. Had it been left to him, he’d probably have drunk far more than he should, still caught in the wake of the earlier emotional disturbance. And getting drunk would just have confirmed Roger Andrews’s views about him being a negative influence on Josh. He sighed as he thought it. It seemed like he wasn’t going to be able to do anything now without second-guessing how it might be seen. And he didn’t really want to stay somewhere he was so obviously unwelcome.

“I was thinking,” he said to Josh, interrupting whatever Josh had been saying about the country music that somebody had put on the jukebox. “It’s been ten days already. Stefan will be back soon. I should probably head out.”

Josh’s eyes flew to his. “Don’t,” he started, then glanced away. “I get why you wouldn’t want to stay now,” he said, his shoulders rounded in what looked like defeat.

Oddly, that brought out Ryan’s competitive streak. “You know what?” he said suddenly. “I’m not letting him chase me off.”

The smile beginning to dawn in Josh’s eyes confirmed he’d made the right decision.

“So when you said I could borrow a car, you did mean that red one out there, didn’t you?”

“I see how it is, that’s the reason you’re really staying.”

“Hell, yeah,” Ryan said, raising his bottle to salute Josh.

N
EXT
morning he took a bike out on the trails and stayed away longer than he usually did. On his return late that afternoon, he was sweaty, dusty, and longing for a swim as he crossed the lawn toward the pool house. All of that was forgotten once he saw Roger Andrews standing on the terrace, watching him.

In a split-second decision, Ryan changed direction and marched over to him. “You know what?” he demanded, before Roger could say anything. “I may be a pretty average player, but God knows I care more about Josh than you seem to. You won’t scare me off that easily.”

Roger held his gaze for a good minute, pale eyes assessing and hostile. Ryan’s anger meant he returned the stare with scorn instead of wilting under the menacing weight as he was doubtless supposed to. “I’m watching you,” Roger warned in a low voice.

“Well, good for you,” Ryan shot back, turned away, and walked off.

Maybe that hadn’t been the most adult response but at least now it was open war between them, without Ryan having to be handicapped by politeness.

H
E
DIDN
’
T
see the man again before he left, three days later. To his delight, Josh tossed him the keys to the Ferrari when it was time to leave for the airport.

“You do know we’re going to spend the entire drive stuck in traffic?” Josh checked when he saw the gleeful grin that split Ryan’s face.

“But oh baby, we’re going to be stuck in traffic in
style
.”

It was a wrench to climb out of the car at the airport, but even more of one to say good-bye to Josh. Ryan comforted himself with the knowledge that they’d be seeing one another in a couple of weeks’ time to ready themselves for the next round of the Davis Cup. In the meantime, he had to get back to his usual routine and prepare himself for the explosion of interest from both the media and the public that Josh had warned him would happen as they did all the Davis Cup publicity stuff.

A
T
THE
end of several long weeks, Ryan realized just how right Josh had been about the amount of crap that went with the Davis Cup. Not only had there been the small matter of playing Serbia in the quarterfinals—and beating them, convincingly—but there were all the media interviews, photo shoots, exhibition matches, and other PR occasions, and really, his head was spinning so hard from it all that he lost track somewhere about the third week. He was deeply thankful for Leonie, who efficiently and expertly filtered and organized everything for him, and also for Josh’s quiet presence, steering him through. As before, the best part about the Davis Cup, not counting the tennis and the winning, was being with Josh.

It was hard to say good-bye to him so Ryan could fly out to Houston for the Men’s Clay Court Championships. It helped to know it would only be a week before they’d see one another again in Monte Carlo.

Chapter 16

M
ONTE
C
ARLO
.
The very name was enough to have Ryan grinning in anticipation, bringing to mind glamour and cars and movie stars. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was getting to go there. It turned out that his disbelief was well-founded. When he arrived at Nice airport, ready for the transfer to Monte Carlo, he found out the Monte Carlo Masters actually took place in France. The venue was only a few miles from Monte Carlo, but that wasn’t really the point.

While that had been a bit of a blow, Ryan found many reasons to love the place he had ended up in. Perhaps it didn’t have the same romantic associations with luxury yachts, fast cars, and actresses, but it was beautiful. The hotel was set in acres of stunning gardens overlooking the sparkling ocean, and his room had a view out to where white yachts danced on blue waves in the sunshine. And the courts at the country club went the rest of the way to help him recover from his disappointment. The deep red of the clay courts called to him in a way that neither hard courts nor grass did. He loved the way clay played. Being able to slide into balls suited him down to the ground; he was able to keep on his feet far more easily on clay than he could on hard courts or grass.

Much as he loved playing on clay, when Josh walked into his hotel room that evening, it suddenly became clear to Ryan that he loved something else more. He almost stopped breathing at the realization. It was only the fact that Josh moved in close and kissed him to say hello that stopped him from blurting it out then and there.

“You look like a stunned mullet,” Josh said, finally relinquishing Ryan’s mouth long enough to take a step back and look at him properly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said happily. “More than okay.” He wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until he had come to grips with the fact he was in love for the first time in his life, if he didn’t count kindergarten; Maurice Pendergrass the Third not only had the coolest name four-year-old Ryan had ever heard, but he’d also had the
best
cookies.

N
EXT
day, Ryan was on top of the world. He was playing in what might just be the most beautiful tennis venue in the world, on a surface he loved, and the man he loved was in his bed at night. Life seriously did not get better than this.

He beat Webb easily in the first round, adding to his exhilaration. Josh won against Henarez in his first-round match. And because Ryan hadn’t studied the draw as closely as he should have done, it took him by surprise to learn that he would be playing Josh in the next round.

After the first thrill of anticipation that, after all these years of watching him play, Ryan would finally be playing Josh Andrews, he forced himself to think of it like any other match. He also refused to feel too disappointed that he wouldn’t see Josh that night. He spent longer than usual with Stefan talking strategy for the following day’s match and scrutinizing footage of Josh’s recent matches. Everything about how he would play needed to be deeply ingrained so that he wasn’t in danger of being bounced out of his match headspace or his tactics by the thought it was
Josh
he was playing.

He ate supper with Tommy and Jurgen and their respective girlfriends and left them chatting in the hotel restaurant. He was already missing Josh and he hadn’t even gotten back to his room. As he walked somewhat disconsolately across the lobby, he met Mitch coming the other way.

“Hey, Ry.” Mitch’s smile was lazy, good-natured, and a welcome distraction from thoughts of a lonely night. “You want to grab a beer?”

“Juice for me, but some downtime sounds good,” Ryan said with relief and accompanied Mitch to the hotel bar. It was buzzing with players, who were typically drinking soft drinks, and hangers-on and press, who were typically drinking alcohol and a lot of it. Mitch exchanged greetings with at least half of the people they passed, and Ryan with almost as many. Even though he wouldn’t say he’d yet made any close friends except Josh and Mitch, he was finally beginning to feel at home. He guessed more friendships would come over time. It was a weird atmosphere in which to make friends; other players were the only ones who could understand properly the pressures and the environment in which they lived, but they were all, at any point in time, potential opponents.

“You actually in there, Ry?” Mitch was peering at him in mock concern.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about tomorrow’s match.”

“The great Josh Andrews, no less.”

Ryan shot a quick look at Mitch, because there’d been an unmistakable edge to his voice.

“You’ll be fine,” Mitch said. “He doesn’t really like clay. Just watch out for that topspin he’ll keep going for.”

Which was what Stefan had spent the best part of an hour drilling into Ryan’s head.

“Then again, the two of you seem pretty tight these days,” Mitch said. “Guess I don’t need to tell you anything about how he likes to play.”

Ryan concentrated really, really hard on not blushing. He thought he might have succeeded. “We hang out sometimes.”

“Sure,” Mitch drawled. When Ryan dared to shoot him a quick glance, he found Mitch’s eyes were shrewd on his face. “Just remember it’s all about winning out there, whether or not you’re BFFs. Andrews would be the first to tell you that.”

Feeling uncomfortable at the mockery in Mitch’s tone, as well as the knowingness in those gray eyes, Ryan swiftly changed the subject.

He excused himself from Mitch fairly early in the evening. He needed to ensure a good night’s sleep, and he also wanted a bit of space to deal with the idea that had started buzzing round his head. As he let himself into his room, empty without Josh there, his thoughts coalesced into a decision. He’d made the wrong call in not telling Josh yesterday how he felt. He needed Josh to know, to understand that, no matter what happened out on that court tomorrow, they were solid and it would change nothing between them.

When Josh opened his door in response to the knock, he looked surprised to see Ryan.

“I know I’m not supposed to be here,” Ryan said in a rush, “and I’m not staying. I just wanted to say something.” He moved forward as Josh stepped back, letting him in. “Oh, hey, your dad or anyone else isn’t here, are they?”

“No,” Josh said. He seemed uncertain about Ryan’s sudden appearance.

“Thank God for that. Look, I just wanted to say— Well, I was thinking about saying it last night, but it all happened a bit too fast, and then I realized that with us playing each other I had to say it now, because if I said it afterward and I’d won, it might sound like I was trying to make you feel better, like an emotional pity fuck, and if I said it afterward and
you’d
won, then it might just sound pathetic. So I was thinking about it and I realized I needed to say it now, because—”