“You survived the chaos?” she asked.
“Barely,” I exhaled. “Thanks for the heads-up. Didn’t fancy having to explain who the ridiculously hot blonde at the back gate was.”
She tilted her head. “Hot, huh? I doubt I’m the first.”
“You are, though,” I shot back. “First one who ever stopped me in my tracks like that.”
I leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was meant to be polite, sure, but I lingered long enough to breathe in that heady vanilla scent that had been haunting me since the bar. What surprised me more was that she didn’t move away.
“So?” I asked. “What’s the verdict? Did I impress?”
She grinned. “Very much so. Especially the part where your opponent looked like he wanted to throw his racket at you.”
I laughed. “My charm works on everyone.”
“Clearly.”
We stood there a beat too long, eyes locked, heat simmering between us. That half-smile? Bloody lethal.
A black car pulled up, the one I’d arranged to pick us up.
I cleared my throat. “Come on. I’ve made reservations at a little Italian place near my flat. Nothing fancy, just good pasta and wine. The owner’s mum still works in the kitchen.”
Her smile softened. “Sounds perfect.”
Fuck, there was that smile again.
I opened the door and watched her slide in effortlessly and gracefully, the hem of her dress riding up just enough to flash creamy skin that was begging for my touch. My throat tightened. I shut the door carefully, like it mattered, as if careful not to shatter this moment.
Circling to the other side, I slid in beside her, pulse still thudding in my throat.
Tonight I should’ve been focused on recovery, strategy, the next opponent. But screw it. History could wait. She was sitting right here, smelling like that, laughing at my jokes, and all I wanted was pasta, wine, and her smile across the table.
Chapter Eight
Jordan
This place wasa favourite of mine, so it only felt right to bring her here.
It was cosy inside. Low-lit, warm, tucked away from the noise of the city. One of those family-run Italian places with wax-dripped bottles, hand-painted murals, and old black-and-white photos on every wall. Traditional and not flashy, which, if I was guessing right, suited her down to the ground. I’d worried she might expect something glitzy. But this? Candlelight, overpowering garlic, the scent of red wine hanging in the air? Yeah. This felt right. ?
Except I was nervous as hell.
Hadn’t taken anyone out on a proper date in…Christ, I couldn’t even remember when.
The last couple of years had been all about rehab, training, eating right, early nights. Rinse and repeat. I told myself I didn’t have the time or the interest in dating. Truth was, I didn’t have the patience, either.
I’d done the casual thing; dinners, hookups, the sort of surface-level crap you forget about before you even get home. I’d had a couple of girlfriends too. Each time I went all in because that’s how I’m wired, and each time I walked away feeling emptier than before. That’s thething; when you’re an all-or-nothing guy,nothingsounds a hell of a lot safer. So, I kept my head down. Focused on the game.
But now she was here, smiling at something I’d said as she walked a step ahead of me. And for the first time in years, tennis wasn’t the only thing on my mind. Dating suddenly didn’t feel like a risk. Something about Kate felt like maybe, just maybe, I wanted to hand someone my whole heart again, and wasn’t terrified they’d drop it.
I pushed the door open, and without thinking, my hand almost reached for the small of her back. Almost. I caught myself just in time, pulling back like I’d touched something hot.Easy, mate. Jesus.There was just…something about her that made me want to stake a silent claim. Maybe it was the way heads turned when she walked in, how their gazes lingered on her. Except she didn’t seem to notice, or care for that matter.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and followed the scent of her through the door. She didn’t need guiding, anyway.
The waitress led us to a corner table, mostly hidden from view, and I slid into the seat across from her.
Then she shrugged off that bloody jacket. Tossed it over her chair like it was nothing, hair tumbling loose as she swept it to one side. I tried not to look at her boobs as she did it, but quickly failed.Christ.I breathed just to remind myself I was a professional athlete working on a professional week. She caught my eye, clearly clocking the whole thing, and smirked. If we’d been anywhere but here, I’d have found an excuse to see if that smirk tasted as good as it looked.
