Page 58 of Tough Call

He just grinned and shrugged.

I rolled my eyes and laughed, and now that he mentioned it, he had done most of his at-home workouts while my parents were out. I’d thought at one time that it was because my dad annoyed him like he annoyed me. After all, Dad became Mr. Personal Trainer to anyone who walked into his gym, and he would also nag, nag, nag about “remember to wipe down the equipment when you’re done” even though we were all meticulous about it.

It had never crossed my mind that Madars had other ulterior motives for waiting until my parents were out.

Our drinks arrived, and Madars was right—the coffee was really good. I drank so much hotel coffee while traveling for games, and some of it was barely fit for human consumption. Watery. Burnt. Weird flavors that probably shouldn’t have been there. I often added a lot of cream and sugar just to mask the appalling taste of the coffee itself.

This place? Oh, yeah, this was good. It didn’t even need more than a tiny dusting of sugar and a little cream, and it was perfect. Strong as hell, too, though I doubted there was a substance on the planet that could completely crack through this fatigue.

I took an appreciative sip and met his eyes across the table. “And you said the place by the villa is even better?”

Grinning, he nodded. “Yep.”

“Well. Challenge accepted.” I put the cup down. “When are we leaving for Sevilla, anyway?”

“When you feel up to it.” He shrugged. “I haven’t bought train tickets yet, and I got this room for two more nights in case you need some more time to adjust.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll need that much time.” I sipped my coffee again. “How long is the train ride?”

“About three hours.”

I exhaled. The thought of sitting for another hours-long ride to anywhere made me even more tired.

Madars put a hand on my forearm and smiled. “When you feel up to it. We can stay in Madrid for a few days. We can leave tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I’m in no rush.”

“I appreciate that. I think I’d like to go tomorrow, though. I’m sick of traveling, but I just want to get there.” I grinned. “And I want to finally see this villa you keep talking about.”

He laughed, a mischievous sparkle glinting in his eyes. “I already showed you the important part.”

Rolling my eyes, I nudged his leg under the table with my foot. “Yes, those photos you sent of the bedroom ceiling were spectacular.”

With an innocent shrug, he said, “I mean, that’s the part you’ll be looking at the most, so…”

“Oh my God,” I said with a laugh, and he chuckled too.

“You’ll see it all when we get there. I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise with photos.”

I peered suspiciously at him. “See, now I’m afraid you’ve put clown statues or something around corners.”

“Ooh, I hadn’t even thought of that.” He thumped his knuckle on the table. “Damn it.”

“Ass,” I muttered. “You do not want to start a prank war with me. It didn’t end well last time, and it won’t end well this time.”

He met me with a challenging look, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I don’t know. I’ve had another decade of experience living around hockey players. I think my prank prowess is a lot better now than it was when I was a teenager.”

“Mmhmm. So is mine.” I bumped his foot. “You don’t think refs prank each other?”

“I didn’t think refs had a sense of humor.” He picked up his wineglass. “They all seem like stuffy, humorless androids who live to kill joy and fun.”

I flipped him off, and he snickered. Tsking, I reached for my coffee again. “You’re such a dick.”

“You love it.”

“Uh-huh. Just like I love being a stuffy, humorless android who lives to kill joy and fun.”

“See? You admit it?”

“Fuck you.” We exchanged playful glares, then laughed.