“I like the haircut,” I mumble as I get into his car and he shuts the door.
“Thank you.” He grins once he hops in the driver seat and puts us in reverse.
I contemplate what to say to keep the conversation going, but after a few moments of silence and just enjoying the warm breeze, Rowan says, “So, how are you feeling?”
My body immediately reacts and I sit up straighter, turning so I can better face him. “Fine, much better,” I lie.
Rowan nods. “I thought about coming by this week but I know you like your space.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t like snapping at you for no reason,” I say.
“I could give you reasons to snap at me.” He grins, dimples popping and my insides melt a little. “Archie misses you by the way. He thought you abandoned him.”
“I miss him too and I would never abandon the two of you,” I say, meaning it.
Rowan is silent for the rest of the drive and once we park at the club, he says, “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Of course.” I smile, wanting to grab his hand and squeeze it. Instead, I keep my hands firmly at my sides. I need to keep my distance from him from now on. Less physical intimacy. I need to gather the courage to break things off and remain friends. If that’s evenpossible.
Rowan is makingme work hard on the court. We have the longest back and forth, neither one of us missing a beat, but he’s starting to wear me down. Sweat rolls down my face, the back of my dress is drenched, and I desperately need some water.
Rowan manages to hit a drop shot, barely clearing the net and I return it to the side he least expects. He twists at the last second to change directions but he barely misses the ball.
“I need a water break,” I say, catching my breath and walking over to the bench. I gulp more water than I should, but we’re nearing the end of practice and I’m thirsty as hell.
“I need to work on my overhead more,” he says, joining me at the bench. I sit down and peek up at him. He’s in perfect view, blocking the sun that would otherwise beat down on me.
I try not to stare again at his perfect thighs and how good they look in those white shorts, but it’s damn near impossible. His hands distract me as they go from his water bottle to the hem of his loose tank top. He pulls the bottom of it up to wipe at his face, even though there’s a perfectly good towel on the bench next to me.
My eyes travel the path from the waistband of his shorts, up his toned lower abdomen that’s lightly dusted with dark blond hairs, further up to his glistening abs and pronounced collarbone. I swallow another gulp of water and chide myself for getting into this situation.
Rowan sips on some water and squeezes some on his head and chest. Is it weird that I’m jealous of the drops of water that slide down his body? I want to lick the rivulets, I want to straddle him on this bench and?—
“Mags?”
“Hmm? What?” I say, shaking my head.
He smiles, a dimple popping in one cheek. “I asked if you’re ready for a final set.”
“Sure, yeah. Let’s do it,” I say, standing up way too quickly and losing my balance. Rowan’s arm around my waist steadies me, but the movement brings me closer to him. My palms lay flat on his chest and I try to clear the fog around my brain. Apologize. I need to apologize.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling my hands back and instantly missing his skin, slightly cool from the water.
“No worries,” he says, smile still in place. He lets go of my waist, takes off his tank top and grabs his tennis racquet, jogging over to the court. In nothing but his shorts.
Fuck. Me.
This is going to be impossible.
CHAPTER 18
Rowan
March - Palm Beach
Maggie’s been avoidingme for the last week and as much as I want to push and prod, I take the patient route, giving her room to sort out whatever it is she’s feeling. We grab a couple of breakfast sandwiches to-go from our favorite brunch place. My hands grip the wheel and I peek over at her in the passenger seat. Her head is leaned back and her eyes are closed as she holds the sandwich with both hands and chews, making happy little noises.
I smile at my little gremlin and tap her shoulder. She gives me a death stare for daring to interrupt her meal, but she still responds with, “What?”
