We managed to flirt and eat our way through nearly all the three desserts Meredith had ordered while I stole glances at Leo and Isodora. It looked like they were enjoying a standard-issue dinner. Nothing like the lovefest Owen and I were putting on.
The bill arrived and he reached for it before I had a chance to.
I forced myself not to look over at them on our way out, but I could feel him watching us leave, hand in hand.
Shockingly, I felt nothing other than hopeful that Owen would find an excuse to kiss me again. No maudlin feelings about seeing Leo, just a fixation on the man beside me.
We wound up on the sidewalk right outside the patio and conveniently right in the line of sight of every person eating there.
Owen leaned close to me, and I caught another hit of his warm, sagy scent.
“Ready for the grand finale?” he asked.
I’d barely bobbed my head when he swept me into his arms, bent me over backward, and kissed me long and hard. I was so caught off guard that my arms flopped limply behind me, until I finally found enough muscle tone to reach up and lock them behind his neck.
My eyes were squeezed shut, but I felt like I could still see the sparkler going off. We kissed for, what, a half hour? A minute? I lost track of time as we melted against each other. When Owen finally stood me up, I wobbled a few steps.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I think that worked.” Owen reached for me. “Let’s leave as a united front.”
We walked down the block silently, holding hands like it was a normal, everyday thing to do. We’d already jogged together, holding hands and cackling, but this was more reserved, like it was our go-to walking scenario. He let go once we reached the subway station.
“Okay, so our next meeting is at Jimmie McDaniel Park, right? You ready?”
My mouth dropped open, because I expected us to go through some sort of play-by-play about what had just happened at the restaurant. I at least wanted to laugh about the absurdity of our show, to vent some of the very real sexual tension that I was working hard to ignore.
I finally found my voice. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
“Inaugural game play,” he said. “It’s going to be good for you, I promise.”
Lately, everything Owen did was good for me.
I could only nod, because how were we having a normal conversation aboutpickleballwhen he’d just kissed me like that?
Owen backed away from me, pointing at me. “You’ve got this, B. Next stop, signing you up for the tournament.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he’d already disappeared around the corner.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’d picked the least fancy public pickleball court of all the options for my debut. I wanted to play with friendly folks who enjoyed the game, not serious athletes like the assassins from the Chelsea Pickleball Academy. The court I’d selected was in the shadows of apartment buildings on repurposed tennis courts. There were weeds along the chain-link fence and the view was nonexistent, but the low-key vibe felt perfect for me.
Owen had texted me five minutes before our meeting time to let me know he was running late. He told me to get a feel for the place while I waited since there were spokenandunspoken rules at open play courts. I’d expected to find a crowd of eager players when I arrived, but then again, it was eight in the morning on a sunny Thursday, so it made sense that there was only one foursome on the court. I watched from outside the fence, like a kid hoping to be invited in to join.
The group was made up of a deeply tanned guy who looked to be in his late fifties and an equally braised woman who seemed to be his wife, a very focused blonde in what I recognized was an Athleta tennis dress, and a tall, skinny senior in a non-ironic trucker cap. Despite the fact that the couple looked fit and had top-of-the-line gear, they seemed to be losing to the mismatched pair.
Lessons with Owen had allowed me to master the fundamentals and get out of my head, but actual gameplay was still pretty overwhelming. And it movedfast. I guessed that the foursome had a history based on how intuitive they seemed with one another.
“That’s game,” I heard the senior say as the ball bounced in the farthest corner of the court.
He and his partner touched paddles; then they met their opponents to do the same across the net.
“I need to run to class, Howard,” the blonde said apologetically. “Next week?”
“Yes, indeedy.” He flexed his arm to make a muscle. “See you then.”
She turned around and spotted me. “Oh, look, you guys can keep going. You’re here to play, right?”
