“You guys, I have a great idea! We were just talking about grabbing dinner,” Meredith said. “Why don’t you join us and we can keep the book talk going?”
I shot her a look for being an instigator.
“Oh, I would love to, but I need to catch the train back to Jersey. I know this guy is hungry, though,” Cynthia said as she glanced up at Owen. “He’s always hungry.”
I felt something spark in my chest when his eyes landed onme, like he was looking for some sort of approval from me before inserting himself in our evening.
“Yeah, join us,” I said quickly, because a meal with Meredith could smooth over any residual kissing weirdness with Owen.
“That’d be great, thanks.” He bobbed his head. “I’m going to walk my mom to the station, so text me where you’re going and I’ll meet you there.”
“Oh, stop,” Cynthia tutted as she flapped her hand at Owen. “You don’t have to walk me.”
“Mom, I’m walking you,” Owen insisted. “It’s five minutes away; it’s fine.”
We said our goodbyes, and Meredith decided on a restaurant with an outdoor patio since the heat of the day had mellowed to tolerable. The sax-heavy sex music and dim lighting in the place clued me in that we were making a mistake as we followed the hostess outside.
“Mere, this is a first-date restaurant,” I complained in a low voice. “Look around—it’s all couples.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged. “The drinks are supposed to be amazing. And tonight we’re a throuple.”
The hostess seated us at a table in the middle of the patio, and it felt like we were under a spotlight despite the romantic lighting on the rest of it. I glanced around hoping to find a more secluded option, but every table was filled with moony-eyed couples.
“There he is.” Meredith waved her hand over her head. “Over here!”
I followed her gaze and once again felt something spark to life inside of me as Owen threaded through the tables, while every woman and a few men turned to watch him. He lit up when he spotted us.
“Hey.” He plopped down in the chair next to me. “Thanks for letting me crash your meal. I’m actually starving.”
“Um, I’m sorry to report that it’s tapas.” Meredith held up the menu. “Are you okay with small plates?”
“Half a dozen small plates equals one normal one. Yeah, I’ll make it work.” He chuckled.
Before long, our table was crowded with deliciousness that was more than enough to fill all of us.
“So how’s our student doing on the court these days?” Meredith asked as she struggled with a shrimp tail. “She’s way too modest about her game.”
I slid my eyes to Owen right as he did the same. Perfectly in sync, on and off the court.
“Brooke is someone who thought that she was an underdog,” he mused, watching me. “We had to take care of some faulty wiring, and now she’s basically unstoppable. I’m seriously impressed.”
“So youaregood.” Meredith fake-glared at me. She glanced back at Owen. “She’s always like, ‘I’m not ready to play a real game; I need more sessions with Owen.’” Her voice went whiny as she impersonated me. “But now I know the truth. She’s having fun with you.”
His expression softened as he turned to me. “So you really are enjoying the lessons, huh?”
I shifted in my seat. “Well, yeah. Of course I am.”
We shared a flicker of a moment as we both seemed to consider how far we’d come in just a few weeks.
Meredith pushed on, oblivious. “Every time she gets back from the club, she goes on and on about what a great coach you are.” She looked over and winked at me.
Okay, so not totally oblivious. I felt my face go hot.
“Well, thank you, that’s nice to hear,” he replied softly, looking down at the tiny, empty plate in front of him.
“A good coach can make or break you,” Meredith continued. “I did gymnastics in high school and my coach wasthe worst. She’s the reason I quit.”
“I feel that.” He sighed. “Been there with my college tennis coach.”
