by Nana Malone
Amy chewed her pizza thoughtfully for a moment before speaking, the words coming out slowly and deliberately. “Okay, I have to know. Is there something wrong with your lady parts? Were you in some sort of horrible, disfiguring accident? Or maybe you’re not into dudes, and you’ve been harboring a secret crush on me for years. Which is cool. I don’t judge.”
Tami coughed as Coke threatened to explode out of her nose. “No. You’re one hot mama, and my life might be easier if I were into girls, but sorry for both of us, I’m not. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my lady parts. I hope. They all work as expected, mostly. Which is why I won’t be seeing Bryce Coulter again. Just being near him turned my insides to mush.” Not to mention, he'd singlehandedly resurrected her dead libido.
“Honey, I know Michael put you through the wringer, but not every guy is like that. Maybe Bryce is different. You’ll never know until you give him a chance. And from what you said, he thinks you’re talented, so clearly he’s a smart dude.”
“You’ve got best-friend bias.”
Amy snorted. “Babes, I’ve got only-friend bias.”
“This is true.” Tami worked too much to ever go out, and she mostly kept to herself, anyway. It was easier that way.
Her friend wiped her mouth and tossed her napkin onto her paper plate. “So what’s the plan, avoid that court forever?”
Tami shrugged. “Just long enough for the tennis God to forget all about me. Besides, he has a girlfriend or something, anyway. He was kissing that girl at the court, so whatever.”
“Says the woman who’s not jealous at all.”
Tami’s skin heated. Bryce Coulter was nothing to her. She had no right to be jealous. And she should know better than to want him. She liked her life. Okay, maybe liked was a strong word.
She’d fought her way back from the cliff of despair and disaster. Fantasizing about something that was never going to happen would not help. “I’m not. Bryce Coulter and I aren’t even in the same league.”
Amy’s forehead furrowed. “The only thing separating you from his league is your attitude. So what if he’s rich and famous? You’re Tami-Freaking-Ivey, and you rock my socks. He’s the lucky one to know you.” Amy bit her lip, then continued. “And not every guy is Michael. Rich or not, he was a special brand of asshole. Don’t you think you should judge every guy on his own merits and not on one guy?” She shrugged. “Besides, we know how to handle assholes. I have lye in my truck.”
Tami wanted Amy to be right. Maybe in some fantasy world Bryce Coulter could be interested in her for more than just sex. She’d seen his interest. Every woman in the world knew when a guy was interested in her…or at least had an inkling. But just because he was interested didn’t mean she had to take the bait. “I appreciate it, but keep the lye for someone really nefarious. Bryce Coulter, I can handle.” Especially since she was never going to see him again.
Determined to grab on to that feeling of being alive again, Bryce returned to the tennis court the next night, a little earlier than the previous time, but it was empty. He eased off his crutches and walked laps along the baseline, testing the strength of his knee, gingerly pushing the joint’s range of motion. He wasn’t a fool, though.
He slowed drastically as soon as he felt a pinch of pain. It wasn’t long before he was sweating from the exercise, and still no Tami. Damn. He’d hoped she felt that connection, too. He wasn’t used to waiting for anyone. But then, the people he was usually meeting knew he was waiting. He should have said something to her about coming again when she’d left the night before. But he’d been distracted by Echo and Jen.
Had he scared her away? Had he been too much of a creeper watching her last night? Maybe it came down to the simple reason that she didn’t practice every day. Or, not at the same time every day. She very likely had a job, and depending on what she did for a living, her hours might not be the same every day. Although, he mused, regardless of whatever it was that she did for a living, he was sure that she should be playing tennis.
Why are you so pressed? She’s just a girl.
No. There was something about her. He just needed the chance to talk to her again. Okay, yes, if he was being totally honest with himself, it was in part because he wanted her, but he also wanted to find out more about her, and why she wasn’t playing the way she should. He couldn’t be the first person who knew about tennis to have seen her play.
“Where d’you think you’re going, gimpy?” A voice called from behind.
Bryce turned to see who’d spoken, and a foot shot out, kicking one of his crutches out from under him and sending him sprawling. Fuck. He landed on his bad knee. He writhed as the pain shot from his knee up his quad and down his shin. “Fuck, fuck. Motherfucker.” In the next moment, a man was on top of him with a switchblade in his face. All he could see was the knife, as sour, cigarette-scented breath fouled up his oxygen supply.
“I want your wallet and your keys,” the asshole demanded. “And if you even think about—”
But the guy’s words were cut off and his head bobbed forward. Something hit him again on the back of his head and he sagged on top of him. Bryce glanced up. Above them, Tami scowled at the guy, her grip on her mangled racket turning her knuckles white.
Five
“Are you all right?” Tami asked, heaving the would-be mugger off of Bryce and rolling him into the alley.
Bryce lay clutching his knee for a moment while he caught his breath. “Yeah…I think so. Fuck me.”
Yes please. What? No. But something pulled deep inside her. That’s the adrenaline talking, Tam. Ignore it.
Tami held out a hand to help him sit up, retrieving his crutches for him as he rolled over, trying to avoid putting his weight on his injured knee. It took a few moments for them to work out the logistics of getting him back to his feet, but between the two of them, he was quickly up and back on his crutches.
“We should get out of here before he wakes up.” Tami pointed in the mugger’s general direction with her busted tennis racket. She studied the severely bent frame and loose strings. “I don’t think this will be much use against his knife, anymore.” She tucked away the pang of loss. Like she was going to let that guy mug Bryce.
They shuffled off up the street with her leading the way, moving at as steady a pace as Bryce could handle on his crutches, until they turned a corner and were in a busier area. Tami led him to a table inside a pizza shop, where they could sit and he could stretch out his leg and evaluate his injuries. He grimaced as he rubbed his knee. He would need an MRI or something to be sure he hadn’t done serious damage. Tami got a small bag of ice and handed it to him, careful not to touch him. She was more worried about him, than she was about what she was going to do now. She could always find somewhere else to practice. Oh yeah? With what racket?
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the ice and applying it to his knee. “And thanks for the other thing, too.”
“The part where I saved your ass? Sure.” When in doubt, make a joke. Brush it off. It wouldn’t do to dwell. If she dwelled, there would be tears. And she had no time for tears. They wouldn’t fix a thing, anyway. “Did what had to be done, right?”
There was an awkward pause. She had no idea what to say to him. This was freaking Bryce Coulter. They were worlds apart.
What the hell had he been doing at the court, anyway? She hadn’t even realized it was him until she pulled the would-be mugger off of him—not that knowing who it was would have had any impact on her actions. All she saw was someone in need of help. So she’d helped.
Even, she sighed softly, at the expense of her racket. It would take ages for her to save enough to buy another one. Even if it was secondhand. But she’d do it. She’d done it before.
He studied her. “I don’t even know what happened. I was distracted. Fucking got jumped. You shouldn’t play there. It’s clearly not safe.”
She opened her mouth to protest his assumed chauvinistic comment, but before she could speak, he a
dded, “I saw how much power lies behind your swing, and I can only imagine what the force of that must have felt like on the back of that fucker’s head. You can clearly take care of yourself.”
“That I can.”
“Your racket…” he muttered.
“Don’t worry about it.” She nudged the now-useless piece of equipment out of sight under the table. It hurt too much to look at.
“Please, let me to replace it.”
Her eyes went wide. “What? No, I couldn’t let you—”
“It’s the least I can do. Please.” He insisted.
Tami bit her lip as she considered. She wanted a new racket, but she did not want to be beholden to Bryce Coulter. To anybody. But at the same time, she did not want to wait that long to get back onto the court. You can still play. She needed to play. It was the only connection she had to her old life. He could give her that.
“Fine, I… I guess that would be okay,” she conceded. “But nothing too expensive, and I get to say if it’s too much.”
“Perfect,” Bryce nodded with a broad and triumphant smile. “Give me your address, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow. We can make a day of it.”
She frowned. There was no way she was letting Bryce Coulter see where she lived. Besides, she had work. Who the hell could just take a day to go shopping. Oh, Right…the Coulters.
“Tomorrow isn’t—” she began, falling on instinct and backing out.
“No, you’re right, not tomorrow,” Bryce interrupted, massaging his knee. “I’ll have to get this checked out. Where’s your phone? I can give you my number and we can arrange something later. Maybe you can meet me, if that’s more convenient?”
Tami looked down at her duffel bag, where her cell phone was sticking out of one of the external pockets. Bryce saw and reached down before she could snatch it away. Damn it. But this was better. She wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about her place.
“There. I’ve programmed it in.” He handed it back to her so she could see his name displayed as a new contact. “Give me a call when you get a chance, or I can call you. I sent a quick text to myself, so I’ll have your number in my phone, too.”
He was a little too good at charming and disarming.
“Fine,” Tami said, resigned. She would have to do everything she could to steer him toward a secondhand racket. She didn’t want him to think she was using him.
“I get the feeling if I offer to give you a ride home again, you’ll just say no,” he said, a quick smile curving his mouth.
Tami’s breath caught in her chest. Bryce alone was deliciously sexy. But that smile…. She gave herself a mental shake and pushed all naughty thoughts away. “You would be right. I don’t live far. I’ll be fine,” she said. “But you might want Ronnie to have one of his delivery guys drop you off at your car when he heads out.”
“I’ll check, thanks. And I’ll see you again soon,” he promised.
Tami gabbed her bag and bent racket and hurried out the door. She didn’t want to be excited by that promise. Didn’t want to feel anything. This was not a fairy tale. He felt sorry for her. She had to remember that.
Six
“Where’ve you been hiding out, big brother?”
Bryce whirled around, and immediately cursed as his fucking knee pinched. “Jesus, Dax. What the fuck?”
His brother leaned against the doorjamb of the pool house and grinned at him. Bryce had gotten a little wiser. First, he’d removed that ridiculous app that Echo put on his phone. And then he’d taken one of the used beaters that Fox liked to work on in his spare time instead of his own car. The way he’d figured, it would at least buy him some time and keep everyone out of his business and from full freak-out.
“You’re the one skulking around here. For all I knew you were some kind of intruder.”
“And you were, what? Going to take me down?” There was a time when what had happened today wouldn’t have happened. Not that he was some kind of scrappy bad boy or anything, but part of his training usually involved boxing. It helped with the fast footwork. And it was a hell of a workout. Whatever he did, Dax tried to do. His little brother had never been able to take him. Now, was a different story however.
Dax shrugged. “Nah, I don’t take down lame burglars. It hardly seems fair.” Dax folded his arms, his tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Their mother had flipped out when she’d seen them. Bryce often wondered how the two of them could be so different.
Bryce and Echo favored their mother’s coloring, with their blond hair and Nordic looks. Blue eyes, fine features. He knew some of the guys on the circuit called him Pretty Boy Coulter behind his back, but he didn’t give a shit. His brother, by contrast, looked like their father and grandfather. Jet-black hair, strong jaw, complete with cleft. Fox and Gage were more of a combination of the two sides. “What do you want, Dax?”
A shadow crossed over his brother’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. The two of them weren’t super tight. With only two years between them, there was too much competition for that. But sometimes, Bryce wished it was different. He and Dax were so dissimilar, though. His brother never found a rule he didn’t want to break. If the family said left, he went right. If they said stay out of the press, he went looking for TMZ cameras.
“I just came to warn you, Gramps was looking for you. I covered for you and said you went out for a walk, but you know what he’s like. If he can’t keep track of his ducklings, he starts to get a little crazy.”
Gramps had been looking out for him? Yeah, that unfamiliar feeling settling in his gut? He was pretty sure that was guilt. “Uh, thanks for keeping him off my back.”
His brother nodded. “She must be a pretty hot piece, if you’re willing to tarnish the golden-boy image by sneaking out.”
And just like that, Bryce remembered why he was always on edge around Dax. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dax narrowed his gaze, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Just be careful, yeah? The last non-approved girl, one of us brought home, the old man practically ran her off with a pitchfork at the gate.”
Yeah, that had been ugly. But Dax really should have known better than to bring a stripper home. Bryce had tried moving off the property once after college. But it had been inconvenient as hell to get practice time in. When he’d started training for the US Open, he’d moved back for the convenience. Too bad the Coulter benefits also came with the Coulter strings. “I hear you.” He started to limp away, but Dax put a hand on his arm.
“For what it’s worth, I think everyone needs to lay off of you. You’ll get back to where you need to be. Besides, I think focusing on something other than tennis for once will help. Yesterday, you actually looked awake for the first time in ages.”
Bryce stared after Dax as he jogged down to the basketball courts. Just when he thought his brother was the same annoying prick he’d always been, he showed just how intuitive he could be.
Well, little brother, I’m working on it. But he had to go slow. Tami was cagey as hell. Good thing he had nothing but time on his hands.
Seven
Tami’s only concern in arranging a meeting time and place with Bryce had been to avoid buying the racket from the Legacy Sports location where she worked. As she pulled into the parking lot at the private tennis club and outfitters, she glanced down at her outfit—the best casual skirt she owned and her only button-up blouse that still had all its buttons—and felt…underdressed. For buying a tennis racket.
She slammed the door to her car in frustration. What the hell was she doing here? This was ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to dress up for going to the store on an errand. And the fact that she had, and still felt inadequate walking in, just made her angry. This wasn’t her world.
She spotted Bryce leaning on his crutches over in the tennis section, looking sexy with his sandy hair artfully gelled into a messy array. And his five-o’clock shadow. He looked sexy. Damn. She had to get out of here before she mad
e a fool of herself. She turned to leave, with a solid plan to delete his number.
But then he lifted his head, and their gazes locked, and she knew there was no turning back.
“What is this place?” She asked, glancing around as he came swinging over to her. “It’s hard to imagine actually using anything someone might buy here. Do the rackets come with diamond-encrusted frames? Are they strung with spun gold?” She knew she sounded ungrateful and defensive. But she felt completely and entirely out of her element.
Bryce laughed as he led the way. “They do have the best, but I think the only diamonds and gold here are on the tennis bracelets at the jewelry counter.”
Tami didn’t laugh, because she couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking—looking at the place, she could believe that a Tiffany’s counter might be across the room from where customers were measured for their grip and had their swings evaluated.
The employees gave Bryce a familiar nod, their eyebrows rising as they spotted Tami. “She’s with me,” he said, easily. Like he said it often, and it rubbed her the wrong way. In fact, the whole thing made her feel incredibly self-conscious and awkward. She wasn’t his fling of the week. Like you don’t wish you were. Despite herself, and despite the ancient laptop that made it nearly impossible, in the three days that had passed since their last encounter, she’d gobbled up every article she could find about Bryce and his family.
Painfully aware of the looks tossed their way and the whispered words whose tone she grasped but whose content evaded her, Tami forced her head high and repeated to herself that it wasn’t what any of them thought—she wasn’t with Bryce Coulter, not in that way. It was all strictly…what? It wasn’t business. It definitely wasn’t romantic—and she was determined to keep it that way. Was it friendship? Not really. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to consider them friends. She didn’t want anything from him.
