Page 40 of Beg Me

I exhale a sigh of relief, feeling the throb in the back of my neck ease. If all goes right, this might end up being a better fit than Adam, anyway.

“I’m trusting you,” I warn, getting to my feet. “Please don’t bail on me.”

He stands, towering over me, yet his gaze holds mine tenderly. Despite the softness, there’s a ferocity in his green eyes that makes me feel safe. That makes me believe whatever he’s about to say.

“You have my word,” he says, smiling. “Now get out of here and meet me at the park in an hour.”

“You got it.”

I toss him a wink as I head for the door.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Jory

“What are we doing, boss?” I ask, swinging open the gate to the pickleball area.

Markie faces me, a grin on her lips and a hand on her hip. “I hope you’re not being facetious.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I plop my water, keys, and phone on the bench next to her bag. “I texted Gus that I’d be here for a while, so I’m at your disposal.”

“Great. I’ve already warmed up. So, you should go ahead and stretch out so that you don’t pull a muscle.”

I don’t know whether to laugh at her or shut up and do what she says. Surely, she knows that I understand the benefits of stretching before a workout.

“Just to be clear,” I say. “You do know that I’m a professional athlete, right? Like this is my literal job.”

She smirks. “I told you, rugby boy. You’re in my office now.”

“Actually, I believe the part of the court that you’re standing in is called the kitchen.” I laugh at the look of surprise on her face. “But sure, I’ll call it whatever you want.”

She drags her eyes from mine and turns away from me, picking up her phone. I did a quick warm-up before I left the house, so I’m ready to rock and roll. But God forbid she thinks I’m not taking this seriously, so I do a few stretches and calisthenics for her edification.

Besides, it gives me a couple of minutes to have an unobstructed view of her ass.

Our back-and-forth earlier at my house was unexpected. Sure, we’ve had a connection since the moment I met her. But I truly didn’t think our interactions would reach the level they did today. She was honest with me, told me about Jasper, and answered my questions even though I was a little concerned it might be too personal for her. Yet she trusted me.

And that cleavage. Fuck me.

Yet it did, and it’s all I can think about.

“All right,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Let’s go.”

She puts her phone down and grabs two paddles. “I brought you one of these in case you don’t travel with one in your suitcase.”

“I knew I forgot something.”

She rolls her eyes, moving to the far side of the court. “You obviously know a little about pickleball, or at least the terminology.” She positions herself near the baseline. “But, so we’re on the same page, from the net to that line, known as the non-volley zone line, is known as the kitchen. You can’t hit the ball out of the air while standing inside that area.”

“Got it.”

“This,” she says, motioning to one half of the court, “is the right service area and this one is the left.” She gestures to the opposite side. “When you serve, you have to hit it diagonally across the net in the opponent’s correct service area.”

I already know all of this. I used to play in a pickleball league in Connecticut, but I’m not about to say that and steal her glory. After her fuckhead ex-teammate pulled the plug on her, the last thing she needs is a know-it-all in her face.

This isn’t my world. She’s the pro here. I’m just a guest.