But I had a feeling that little gamer boys wouldn’t be the only ones fanning out over my brother.
Chapter Thirty-Two
CPA during regular business hours felt like a foreign country. I was used to quiet mornings with Owen, not the chaos of a busy Saturday afternoon. Nearly every court was in use, and I could see a crowd waiting at the smoothie bar.
“Damn. Swanky place,” Wes said as we ducked out of the rain and into the lobby.
“Not at all what I was expecting,” Claudia added, swiveling her head to take in the living plant wall and lounge chairs in one of the hangout spaces.
I puffed up with pride like I was actually a sustaining member, until it struck me that I was enjoying the perks of the club without paying a penny.
Yeah, I was actually a leech, and Owen would probably be glad to get rid of me once my lessons were officially marked complete. I stuffed down any thoughts about the end of the line and forced myself to focus on the moment.
“Wait until you see the locker rooms,” I replied.
My worlds were about to collide, and I was feeling shockingly okay about it. Probably because Wes was one of those people who took the spotlight trained on him and bounced it outward, making everyone else the focus. He knew how tomake people in his orbit feel comfortable and important, from the littlest fanboys to the moms with crushes.
Everybody loved Wes and everybody loved Owen, for different but related reasons. They’d be besties within three minutes.
We’d planned to play a few games and then get ready at CPA for a big night out, which included cocktails, then dinner at a fancy restaurant Wes picked, then ending up at the bar to hang with Meredith.
“You remembered the stadium shirt, right?” I whispered to Wes.
“Damn straight.” He grinned back. “I need to thank the man who coached you to greatness.”
I was about to say something sarcastic about being less than great, but Owen’s voice echoing in my head reminded me to speak about myself as if I were talking about a friend.
We were twenty minutes early for our assigned time, partially because Wes wanted to fight for the right to pay for the games. The guy at the front desk glanced up at Wes and briefly widened his eyes, which was the normal Manhattan trying-to-play-it-cool-in-the-presence-of-a-minor-celebrity response.
“Oh, hey,” he said, quickly looking at Claudia and me and determining that Wes was the only VIP. “Checking in?”
I pushed up to the desk beside Wes. “Yup, we’re the four o’clock on court twelve.”
“And we still need to pay the guest fee,” Wes added with his signature smile.
The guy nodded and refocused on the laptop in front of him. “Actually, you’re all set, no payment necessary. Do you need a tour? I’d be happy to show you around.”
Since I was rarely there during business hours, he didn’t know that I was just as qualified to give the tour.
Owen appeared from his office, no doubt because he’d been watching the CCTV for us.
“Not necessary, Marcus, I’ve got this.”
I tried not to stare as he stalked toward us, because it was yet another Owen I wasn’t acquainted with. Not the Brooklyn book-signing version or the vacation-casual Hamptons-party guy, but a naked-headed pickleballgod.
He was wearing a dark gray slim-fit T-shirt that looked like it was made of wicking fabric and black shorts that actually fit his body instead of swimming on it, which were short enough to show off shockingly defined thighs.
I cleared my throat and looked away before he could catch me admiring him. It was better for both of us that I’d never met this side of him when we were sweaty and alone.
“Hey, folks, welcome to the Chelsea Pickleball Academy,” he said, hand outstretched to Wes. “I’m Owen. Big fan.”
Wes clasped his hand and pulled him into a bro hug, complete with twin thumps on each other’s backs. “Good to meet you, man. Brooke’s told me a lot about you.”
It was true. I’d been accidentally hyping up Owen to Wes since my second lesson.
Wes stepped aside. “This is my fiancée, Claudia.”
“Fiancée? Wow.” Owen gave an approving nod as they shook hands. “Congratulations, that’s great.”
