by Nana Malone
“Why? Why do you have to go and put those kinds of thoughts into my head?” she scolded, adjusting the strap on her gym bag before disappearing into the changing area.
Bryce laughed to himself as he followed her and slid into the stall next to hers. The moment he was on his own, he traced his fingers over the raised scars on his knee. He wasn’t limping as much as he had been, and he’d been given the okay to exercise it, get back into some light jogging and putting a little strain on it, but he needed to take it easy and not push himself too hard or too far. He needed to see what he could do. Whether it would even be possible to get himself back into competition. But he dreaded the thought of doing it alone. The prospect of his own disappointment was nowhere near as scary as the idea of letting anyone else down. What if it was over? How would they feel about him when he wasn’t the golden child?
He already had had it out with his coach. Dmitri. Currently, they weren’t on speaking terms. Especially since he’d told the guy to fuck off two days ago. Dmitri was more his parents’ coach than his. He needed Tami there with him as he made the effort to try. She didn’t have the same expectations. She just wanted him. If his professional career was over, he doubted she’d care. She might eventually be relieved with the decreased scrutiny and attention. She wanted normalcy, and his career—the traveling, the tournaments, the workouts and practices—could easily tear apart their fledgling relationship. If he couldn’t have his career back but he could have her…
Then again, he had another reason for bringing her to the tennis club instead of just working with her at her usual court. The tennis club had greater resources in the form of professional equipment, expertly maintained courts with an array of surfaces, and the club’s on-staff pro who was always eager to watch and provide advice or tutorials to the club’s members. Bryce hadn’t mentioned much beyond his desire to start his self-assessment with the ball machine but he knew that Tami wouldn’t be content to just sit and watch or practice her serves alone. If he could get her to agree to play Andrew, he would undoubtedly have another recruit to his efforts to get her to reconsider pursuing a career of her own.
He heard Tami tapping her foot outside his stall. “What’s taking you so long?”
Bryce shoved his thoughts away and hastily finished changing, throwing the curtain dramatically aside when he was ready. “You’re sure you don’t want me to find you something new? I know you have Echo’s outfit, but maybe you want one of your own? There’s a really great line they carry where the fabric is so light and breathes—”
“These are fine,” she assured him, though he could see the way she clenched her jaw—a sure tell that she was feeling self-conscious. He hated that she wouldn’t let him spend money on her. Make up your mind. You don’t want a leech, but you want to spend on someone?
He grinned at her. “You know it has nothing to do with those, and everything to do with the fact that I want to watch you bend over in one of those skirts, right?” he teased. He’d rather she turn her brilliant smile on him, than scowl.
She rolled her eyes at him, but the tension in her jaw eased. “We’re here to play, right? So lead the way and save the ogling for later.”
“You so underestimate my ability to multitask.”
It had been a while since Tami had played against anything other than the side of a building, so it took a few minutes to get used to the speed and force behind the ball machine. Bryce was at the back, adjusting the dials for its various speed settings.
There were sheer barriers between the various courts on the club’s elaborate complex that reminded Tami of public batting cages. A raised walkway ran the length of the courts on either side, but Tami kept her back to them so she didn’t have to see whether she was being watched or not. Bryce focused on her.
“Fast enough, or do you want me to put it faster?” he called.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be practicing here,” she pointed out. “Set it for what you think you can handle.”
“I like watching you,” he beamed. “I want to see how far you can go first. Then I’ll dial it back a bit and take a few swings.”
Tami shook her head. “No, you need to get back here and take those first swings now. Once you start, it’ll come back to you,” she assured him.
He sighed with resignation as she approached the machine to receive his instructions for the settings. “After it runs through this load, we switch and you take some more shots,” he said, making her promise.
At the baseline, Tami watched as Bryce eased into a crouched stance, placing more weight on his good leg. Before the first tennis ball reached him, she could see how off balance it made him, and cringed inwardly as he caught the ball at the wrong angle and it lost all elevation, effectively dying in the air. But connecting with the ball and feeling that reverberation through his arm and then the rest of his body visibly helped his confidence.
He put more of his weight on the recovering leg for the second and third volleys, and his returns improved.
“You need more rotation, but be careful about overextending yourself,” she called to him in the lull between balls.
He nodded and twisted a little more on his next swing, but it was almost entirely through his torso so the affects on his return were limited. Tami shook her head before dashing towards the baseline. Another tennis ball flew towards Bryce and he twisted the same way as before—awkwardly and ineffectively.
“Not through here,” Tami told him with her hands at his rib cage. “Through here.” Her hands dropped to his hips and thighs. “I know you’re worried about your knee, so try adjusting your footing for now. Change your stance based on where you know the ball is coming from to minimize the twisting on your knee. Here, I’ll show you.”
His gaze dropped to hers. “I have a better idea. How about you move your hand about three inches to the left and motivate me.”
Bryce backed away, grinning, and Tami took his place. “You’ve been doing this,” she said, ignoring his comment. She demonstrated, twisting through her torso. “You should try it like this.” She repositioned her feet so she didn’t have to twist as awkwardly.
Stepping back, Bryce adopted the stance she’d demonstrated and hit the remaining returns with growing confidence and increasing force. Finally, the machine ran out of balls and Bryce moved to where Tami stood, looking satisfied.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Sore,” he admitted rotating his shoulder. “It’s been too long since I did that.”
“Well, you didn’t look like you were too sore. Do you want me to gather them up and let you go another round?” she offered.
“I’ll sit this one out and give myself a rest,” he insisted. “You take your turn.”
Tami went to grab the tennis ball retriever and rolled it around the court, scooping up the balls so she could reload the machine, setting it a few notches faster than where Bryce had been using it. Returning to the baseline, Tami bent into her ready stance and waited, the grip of her new racket firm in her hand as the machine released the first ball in her direction.
Seventeen
Bryce heard the door to the court open and close quietly behind him, so he wasn’t surprised when he turned to see Andrew watching Tami’s skillful returns.
“Who is she?” Andrew asked.
“Tami,” Bryce answered, purposely pitching his voice lower. “Tami Ivey.”
“Where’d you find her? She’s unpolished, but strong.”
“On a tennis court.” Bryce chuckled, though he was pleased to see from Andrew’s eyes that the man was wearing his business face. “I saw her playing when I was out for a walk. Couldn’t help noticing her. The way she moves. She’s a natural. She plays on instinct.”
His friend studied him closely. “Doesn’t hurt that she looks like an Amazon Goddess.”
“Yeah. That too.”
“Whatever you do, don’t scare this one off,” Andrew warned. “You don’t usually bring girls here who can play the way yo
u can, and I’d like to see more from her before she decides a membership isn’t worth the chance of running into you here again.”
Bryce’s cheerful countenance dropped in an instant. “It isn’t like that,” he told Andrew forcefully.
Andrew blinked, startled, then turned his attention back to Tami at the baseline. “Of course not,” he finally responded. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m just…impressed. Tami, you said?”
“Tami Ivey,” Bryce repeated. “Why?”
“There’s something…familiar about that name, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Have you seen her play before?”
“No.” Andrew’s response was certain. “I’d remember if I did.”
The ball machine had emptied, and now Tami was jogging their way, with a smirk on her face. “Your turn.”
“Tami, this is Andrew; Andrew, Tami.”
The older man eagerly took Tami’s hand. “You play beautifully.”
Bryce watched the wariness seep back into her features as she spoke. “Thank you. Bryce tells me you’re the club pro?”
“I am. I hope you two aren’t planning on leaving right away…?” He turned to Bryce, who was shaking his head.
“No, we were going to clean up and have lunch here,” he said, ignoring the way Tami’s eyes widened with reluctance. “Would you care to join us?”
“I would love that,” Andrew nodded then turned his attention to Tami. “I need to find out how your boyfriend here is doing with that bum knee of his,” he said.
Bryce could see she wasn’t buying the excuse. Still, she was polite enough about it—probably from those years of working retail and dealing with disagreeable customers.
“We’ll go clean ourselves up a bit and meet you upstairs in the restaurant in a half hour,” Bryce promised Andrew.
“Looking forward to it,” Andrew said moving back to the door. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ivey.”
“It won’t be a big deal,” Bryce assured Tami before she could voice the objection he knew was coming. He’d get her to come around, one way or another.
Eighteen
Tami did her best not to fume about Bryce’s little invitation. She knew he wasn’t trying to piss her off, but it was clear to her that the honeymoon period of their relationship was coming to an end. Why couldn’t it have stayed just the two of them in their own little bubble forever? Why did they have to go places together and interact with other people? It was so much easier to pretend that he wasn’t a Coulter when they stayed at her place and he could be himself, where he wasn’t acting like a Coulter.
But the club had privilege written all over it, and playing tennis could only function as a practical distraction for so long. Now Bryce would start to realize just how little she fit into his lifestyle. Would it be better or worse if he realized it now?
“Miss Ivey,” the club’s pro greeted her as they were shown to a small table near a spacious window overlooking the complex of practice courts.
“I’m sorry but I don’t believe I caught your last name earlier.” She spread her napkin in her lap while the waiter poured water for the table. “Bryce didn’t mention it when he introduced us.”
“Sampson. Andrew Sampson. I played the circuit back in my day—got into a few grand slam tournaments, but never advanced further than the third round.” There was a note of sadness in his voice that spoke of unfulfilled dreams. “I had back problems. I could play a few big matches like that in a week but the longer I lasted in a competition, the worse it got. Finally had to quit altogether, but I had friends and connections that helped me find this job. I still get to play a bit—usually when members are short a partner—and I give some lessons. Nothing strenuous enough to leave me curled up on the floor of the locker room like I was after playing a match fifteen or twenty years ago.”
“Andrew was one of my first coaches,” Bryce elaborated. “My dad thought I had a decent swing with a baseball bat and took me to the batting cages a few times, but I wasn’t interested. After my mom told him about watching me fooling around with a flyswatter, Dad took me to the court at home and put a real racket in my hand.”
“Like a fish to water, I believe was how he described it to me when he brought you here,” Andrew chimed in.
The comfortable companionship between the two men eased the tension Tami felt—and it certainly helped to be holding Bryce’s hand just out of sight beneath the table.
“It was before Gage was born,” Bryce continued. “Fox was a baby, and the twins were into everything, so there wasn’t much time for either of my parents to work with me much alone—they didn’t want to commit to hiring a private coach until they were sure I’d stick with it, so my dad looked into my having lessons here. He’d drop me off, head into the office for a bit, and then come by and pick me up when he was done.”
“Pretty good attention span for a kid, but every once in a while I had to just let him run around and pick up the stray balls to get his extra energy out,” Andrew joked and they all laughed, Bryce flushing slightly.
“What about you?” Andrew asked, a curious gleam coming into his eye as he turned to Tami. “How did you get interested in tennis?”
“Uh… Well, I don’t really remember,” she shrugged. “I think it was watching it with my dad when I was little, but I don’t recall how old I was when I got my first racket or anything. I do remember going to the court with my dad after he got off work and him standing behind me helping to guide my swing until I got used to the weight of the racket.”
The waiter appearing to take their order. When he departed for the kitchen, Andrew sat back, his eyes focused on her again.
“Tami, I have a confession to make."
She tensed and Bryce squeezed her knee under the table.
“The calls I had to make earlier, one of them was to an old scouting friend of mine. He has a player or two he wants me to take a look at, but while we were chatting, I mentioned your name. Turns out, I had heard it before, from him—at least, I’m pretty sure you’re the one he mentioned that time. It was years ago now, but he seemed to remember you. Couldn’t recall what had happened to you, though. Said something about you being a no-show for a tournament after he’d called in a few favors to get you in—couldn’t tell if he was sorry not to get you signed to something, or resentful for your having wasted his time—if it was you to begin with. Can’t imagine there are too many Tami Iveys who play tennis as well as you do, though.”
Tami took her hand from Bryce’s and reached to take a sip from her water glass, aiming at disinterestedness. Bryce watched her carefully and she hoped this little bit of information she’d kept from him wouldn’t affect how he saw her. She could have—and probably should have—told him sooner, but knowing how much he liked to press certain issues, she hadn’t been ready to hand over fuel for a fire he’d already lit.
“I was invited to play in a tournament in front of scouts and sponsors when I was in high school but there was a medical emergency that came up and prevented me from being there,” she explained with delicacy. “There wasn’t really any way to let them know I couldn’t make it—and to be honest, it was the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Well, from what Al remembered, he was pretty disappointed, ’cause he’d been talking you up to everyone as a player who could easily make the top hundred on the circuit, if not qualify for a few majors. I think he was hoping to get you into the Olympics—they can be a hard sell for some of the players when they fall around the French Open and Wimbledon.” Andrew smiled at Bryce. “It’s a shame Tami was forced to leave for medical reasons.” He turned his attention back to her. Looks like you’ve bounced back pretty strong, though. Have you—?”
“The medical emergency wasn’t mine,” she interrupted. “And frankly, I’ve never regretted missing that tournament—whatever it might have led to, as far as my career prospects.”
Liar.
A blanket of silence fell over the table. The waiter broke the tension
when he brought appetizers.
After the waiter vanished once more and the trio had something to do with their hands, Andrew found a way to close the subject politely. “Well, whatever your reasons for not pursuing tennis as a career, you’re still a hell of a player. If you ever change your mind, there are more than a few coaches who would love to take you on readily enough, and you’d have little difficulty qualifying for tournaments. I’d love to have the honor of playing against you from time to time, regardless of what you decide.”
Tami consented to play Andrew at some point, but neither suggested a date, and the three moved on to other topics.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you’d been scouted before?” Bryce asked, as he drove them back to Tami’s apartment a few hours later.
“I just…I tend to associate that part of tennis with my mom,” Tami said quietly. “She got sick—that was the medical emergency. And…she never got better. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t easy, and there just wasn’t time for tennis.”
“I’m sorry if you felt like I was pushing you before,” Bryce apologized. “I know that when we first met I was—”
“You didn’t know,” she interrupted. “It’s not something I like to talk about, and now you know why.”
“So you have no family?”
She set her jaw. “No cousins, no aunts, uncles. Just me.”
“So the complete opposite of me, then. With too much family.” He attempted to lighten the mood. “If my family’s anything to go by, I should be relieved that I don’t have to meet your parents, but I’m not. I think I would have liked to meet your mom—your dad, on the other hand… Fathers, are not my forte.”
