Kulti(54)

He still kept on looking around like someone would magically appear. Over the course of the next five minutes, he glanced up five more times. It was finally on the last look-around that I sighed and realized what he was doing.

He was searching for help.

By the looks of it, no one else in the general vicinity seemed to be catching on, or they just were unwilling to help. That little voice in my head that seemed to be my conscience reminded me that if I didn’t help him I’d feel guilty later.

Not that it made it any easier.

One more sigh and I started walking toward the German, bag over my shoulder, hands knotted behind my back; I thought about what I was going to say to get him out of his encounter. Kulti looked up as soon as I got about halfway to him, his features calm and even as he listened the fan talking.

I raised my eyebrows and made my eyes go wide in a ‘just go along with it’ gesture.

He blinked in response.

While I was a shitty liar, I could bend the truth so I wasn’t really lying… mostly. I plastered on a smile as soon as the fan saw me coming. “Hi,” I greeted him before turning my attention to Kulti. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but would you mind helping me change my tire, please?”

Yeah, I almost winced at myself for inventing such a girly make-believe situation. I could damn well change my own tire. When I moved away from my parents for the first time, I made sure to look up an instructional video and watch it enough times that the steps were ingrained in my memory. But it wasn’t like anyone else knew that. Plus, it’d been the first thing that had popped into my head when trying to think of an excuse to save Kulti.

There was no hesitation on his behalf when he nodded and said way too sincerely, “Of course.” The German Chocolate Cake—which I was not a fan of, for the record—turned his attention back to the other man and quickly thanked him for his support and something about it being a pleasure meeting him. Before I knew it, The King was walking alongside me across the field in the direction of the parking lot.

I repeat, Kulti was walking alongside me.

Poop. Poop. Poop.

I took a mental breather and swallowed, glancing at the man next to me.

“Don’t turn around,” he ordered in a low voice.

All right. The ‘how about you don’t tell me what to do’ lived and died in a split second right on my lips.

Instead, I shot him an annoyed glance.

He happened to be looking right at me as I did it. Fantastic.

Almost as if he could read my mind, he explained, “He’s watching. I’m sure of it.”

“All right.” I scratched at the place behind my ear as we kept walking, stepping over the curb that led to the parking lot. “Do we need to pretend like you’re actually helping me?”

“Let me take a look when we get to your car.” He said the longest sentence I’d ever heard from him.

I nodded and steered him toward the little brown Civic parked on the second row. “This is me.”

Kulti made a noise of acknowledgment as we came to my car. Popping the trunk open, I threw my stuff inside and watched him angle his body so he could look back at the field nonchalantly. I wasn’t exactly known for being inconspicuous—Eric liked to refer to me as an elephant—so I didn’t bother trying to look.

Instead I looked at the tattoo that barely peeked out from beneath his shirtsleeve, and the small scars that had to have been edited out of all the pictures he’d had taken over the years because I’d never seen them before. I noticed the way so much red mixed with the brown of his facial hair that had started growing in. Tall and still in fantastic shape, my poor, stupid, stupid heart gave a little thump in recognition of an attractive man.

Then I stomped it to death and reminded myself he was just a guy. I’d grown up around guys. They weren’t anything special. They were fun, funny and complete pains in the asses just like women, who were also fun and funny.

I was fine. Totally fine.

So maybe he had a slight accent, okay. And he’d won a few championships. Right.

But he wasn’t a god. He hadn’t found a cure for cancer. And he’d upset my dad, even if he’d made up for it.

I was one hundred and eighty percent fine.

Apparently from the looks of it, his face was a little flushed. I didn’t need to glance at the field to know we were still being watched.

“He’s looking?” I asked quietly, like his fan could hear me.

Kulti nodded, the sunlight hitting his face just right so he looked just as young as he had fifteen years ago.

“Okay, then let’s pretend to change my tire real quick. I have to get to work.” It wasn’t like I’d get in trouble with Marc or anything if I was late, but I still didn’t like taking advantage of him or screwing him over. The sooner we got started, the sooner we finished.