Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1) - R.S. Grey Page 0,101

The reporters around him shoved forward, trying to steal my interview away from the kid, but I ignored their pestering.

“Mauricio.”

“Good to meet you. Let’s get on with it.”

He shook his head clear of shock and held the small tape recorder out to me. His hand shook violently as he asked his first question.

“Were you n-nervous about the race today?”

The reporters erupted behind him, annoyed with his question.

“C’mon Freddie,” a reporter spoke behind him. I recognized him from races in the past. He was a tall, older man with white hair and thick-framed glasses. He was always ready with a standard question and never took no for an answer. This time, I ignored him completely and answered Mauricio.

“No, I wasn’t nervous. Once I hit the water, my body knew what to do.”

He nodded and glanced down at a small notebook clutched in his hand.

“Did the Olympic level of competition contribute to your record-breaking effort today?” he asked, glancing back up at me. “Or was it something else?”

I inhaled a deep breath. Good question.

“The competitors are great, but today I was able to clear my mind of distractions that tend to slow one down.”

“Can you elaborate on what’s been distracting you?” he asked, hopeful.

“Is it Andie Foster?” the older reporter asked, shoving his tape recorder over Mauricio’s shoulder.

I shook my head and took a step back. “I’m here to win gold, not hearts.”

Those were her words. She’d tossed them at me and now I was using them, trying to get to her through the TV. I wanted to shout from the rooftops about how much I missed her, but until Caroline stopped dropping bomb after atomic bomb, I needed it to look as if Andie meant nothing to me.

Mauricio frowned. “So does that mean the rumors about you and Andie Foster aren’t true?”

I tried to keep my face calm, resolute. “Your three questions are up, but my focus is on swimming, not American football players.”

The reporters jumped forward, clamoring over one another to get their questions in.

“Freddie!” a reporter yelled. “C’mon, just five more minutes!”

I felt a tug on my arm and glanced back to see my team manager trying to lead me out of the madness, and this time, I let her.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Andie

I SPREAD PEANUT butter on a slice of bread, taking my time to smooth it evenly across the surface. I liked peanut butter. Peanut butter never got another woman pregnant. Peanut butter never made me cry. Nobody cared if you were photographed in a club with a jar of Jif. (I mean, it’d be weird, but no one would call you a whore because of it.) I dipped the knife back into the jar and glanced up to find three pairs of eyes watching me with concern.

“What?” I asked, biting out the word in a hard tone.

Becca glanced down at her magazine and Liam turned back to the TV, but Kinsley held her gaze without so much as a blink.

“How’s that sandwich coming?” she asked, tilting her head.

I glanced down to survey the kitchen counter. There were over a dozen pieces of bread sitting in front of me, each one piled with more peanut butter than the last. I’d been lost in thought, but I’d be damned if I told Kinsley that. I turned and yanked the jelly out of the refrigerator.

“Excuse me for making an afternoon snack for everyone,” I said, coating jelly on fresh pieces of bread and then plopping each finished sandwich onto a plate. When I was done, I dropped the plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and reached for the one on top.

No one else seemed quite as eager to eat them.

“What?” I asked. “They’re good.”

Becca and Kinsley exchanged a wary glance, but I ignored them and took a bite of my sandwich. It was good, but there was so much peanut butter inside, I could hardly swallow the bite.

“Let me get you some water,” Liam said, pushing off the couch and heading into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Kinsley asked, leaning forward so Liam couldn’t hear her.

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not having a nervous breakdown?”

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

She leveled her gaze on my chest and I glanced down. Sure, I was wearing my game jersey, complete with knee high socks and shin guards, but didn’t everyone do that now and again?

“I just like the way it feels,” I said, taking another bite of my mostly-peanut butter sandwich.

Liam walked back into the living room and held out a glass of water