Page 91 of Untroubled Heart

Anna steps in front of me. “Mr Kelley, I’d be happy to go through the offer with you to ensure you understand before you sign it.”

His eyes flick to me before he offers a pacifying smile to Anna and steps aside, waving a hand for us to come inside.

Anna moves first, but when I go to follow her, Derek stops me with his shoulder against mine.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m looking after my family. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Chapter thirty-three

I can barely hold it together as Mason’s enthusiastic moans echo in the air.

“Seriously, Mason?” Beth glares at her brother as she lets the ball sail past her.

“Welcome to my Wednesday nights.” Tristan spins his racket in his hand as he stands beside her.

“I’m sure it’s the only action you see, so don’t complain too hard.”

“Was that you trying to see what I get up to when you’re not around?”

“As if I care.” Beth snorts, swinging her tennis racket back and forth. “So you guys actually practise this every week, right?”

For the record, I’m terrible at tennis, but I love watching Mason get sweaty in his little shorts. We spend more time missing the ball than hitting it, and by we, I mean me. Beth is marginally better, but I think that’s more her sheer determination to not let Tristan have the upper hand on literally anything.

“Yes.” Tristan rolls his eyes.

“Huh? So why aren’t you good?”

“Because we play for fun.” Tristan pulls a tennis ball from his pocket, bouncing it a few times. “Do you know what that is, Princess?”

He serves the ball, and it goes sailing past Mason, who’s standing still, observing the two of them like I am.

“Sorry, I was distracted by whatever the fuck is going on between you two.” He points his racket at them. “Can we just play, and like Tristan said, have fun? You’re totally ruining my first experience of my girlfriend in a tennis skirt.”

I chuckle, looking down at my new outfit. I had normal athletic clothes on when we arrived—full-length leggings and an oversized T-shirt—but Mason took me straight to the club’s shop and loaded me up with a selection of what he deemed essential for game play.

“Can’t I just get the first one I saw?” I ask as Mason hangs at least five different outfits in my dressing room.

“No. My sister has drilled into me all my life that a woman must have options.”

“And that specifically pertained to tennis outfits… even though I likely won’t play often enough to warrant a full wardrobe?”

Mason holds up one of the dresses, a stretchy fabric in butter yellow that looks barely long enough to cover my arse. “I will drag you to more tennis games for this. Although we could just use it in a little roleplay.” He bobs his eyebrows at me as he stalks closer.

I laugh, taking the hanger from his hands and pushing him out of the dressing room. “Okay, let me try them on.”

“Don’t forget my fashion show,” he calls through the curtain.

“You need to see all of them?”

“Yes! Especially the white skirt.”

I shake my head, chuckling as I strip out of my clothes and into the yellow dress first. I was right, it barely covers my arse, but when I pull the curtain open and do a little spin, Mason’s tongue practically falls from his mouth, and I decide I can get on board with it.

Every outfit is met with his enthusiastic approval.

The pale blue skort with the scalloped edges and the hidden pockets—that was my favourite.