After missing six forehands in a row, meaning the strings of her racket and the ball were miles apart, Bertie stomped her foot. “Arrgh. I’ll never get this. I give up. You two continue without me.”
“Hold up. Maddie, come over here and feed some balls. Let me help Bertie.” Keith and Maddie switched sides on the court. Keith held Bertie’s racket up. “Let me check your grip.” He adjusted her hand slightly. “Okay. Good. Now, remember low to high and always follow through over your shoulder.”
Bertie nodded and allowed him to demonstrate the swing as he continued to grip her hand. “Do you feel that?” he asked.
“Uh, feel what?” Bertie sounded a little preoccupied. It probably had everything to do with his arm brushing over her breasts. Because it sure as hell was distracting him.
“The motion? Can you feel it? Pivot with your shoulders, take the racket back, and swing low to high, finishing over your left shoulder.” Keith demonstrated the motion several more times.
“Uh, I think I’ve got it now,” Bertie said in a husky voice. Keith released her hand with some reluctance. The faint smell of gardenias from Bertie’s heated body mixed with the crisp air and made him a little light-headed.
He cleared his throat. “Maddie, feed a few forehands. Nice and easy.” Keith stepped back to give Bertie room to swing. Maddie fed the first two and Bertie missed, but on the third one, she made contact, whacking the ball over the net and deep into the deuce court.
“I did it!” Bertie jumped up and down.
“Yay! Way to go,” Maddie cheered.
“Did you see that one?” Bertie faced Keith, grinning from ear to ear like she’d just won the finals at Wimbledon.
“I sure did. I better give Serena Williams a call and tell her she might have a little competition.”
“Mock me now, tennis god, but you wait and see. I’m going to learn how to play this game,” Bertie said, her nose tilted in the air.
“You planning on taking lessons?”
“Sure. I like that pro over there.” She pointed to one of the pros teaching a lesson on court one, sporting long hair pulled back in a ponytail and a Fu Manchu moustache.
“That hack?” Keith laughed. “Not while I’m still around, you won’t.”
“Really?”
Maddie leaned over the net. “Dad, you can teach Bertie how to play, can’t you? Way better than anybody else.”
“See? Even Maddie knows a hack when she sees one,” he said to Bertie. “Maddie, let’s hit a few while Bertie takes a break.”
“She’s a little brainwashed by all that daddy worship you feed her,” Bertie mumbled under her breath. Keith threw his head back and laughed.
Keith drilled Maddie for another forty-five minutes while Bertie sat on the sidelines and made calls, checking up on orders. A small crowd gathered behind the fence at the Jaycee Park to watch him as word spread that he was on the court. Once he and Maddie called it quits, Keith went over and signed tennis balls and pieces of scrap paper. After handing a ball back to a young boy with hero worship in his eyes, Keith looked up to see Dottie Duncan standing right behind the boy.
“Glad to see you gracing our run-down courts with your presence,” she snapped by way of a greeting. “This is my grandson Tyler. He was one of your biggest fans when you played.”
“Nice to meet you, Tyler.” Keith shook the kid’s sweaty hand while Tyler beamed up at him with bright freckles and a mouthful of metal. Keith continued to sign a few more balls until the crowd petered off. He shook hands with a couple of pros, talked a little tennis, and then he hefted his tennis bag over his shoulder and left the court, heading for the low, run-down building that housed the lockers.
Inside, Bertie was standing at the front counter next to Dottie. And Keith spotted Maddie over in the far corner, playing an old pinball machine with Dottie’s grandson.
“How old is Tyler?” Keith asked, eyeing the kid to make sure his hands stayed on the machine and didn’t wander in Maddie’s direction. He caught Bertie rolling her eyes as she checked her phone.
“Thirteen. He’s a good student and loves tennis. He lives in Raleigh and plays over at the Raleigh Tennis Club. They got a pretty nice facility,” Dottie said as she picked up a stack of papers from the counter.
Keith nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ve played there.”
“But this area could use another nice facility. You given any thought to working on the rejuvenation of this park? There’s a meeting next week. We sure could use some help.”
As in money and piles of it. Keith smiled. “I might stop by.” Bertie’s head jerked up and she studied him.
“You should consider it your civic duty.” Dottie narrowed her blue–eye shadowed eyes at him and then turned her attention to Bertie. “How about you? You going to join the committee?”
For the love of God, Bertie didn’t need another activity to add to her already overflowing list. But the rest of Harmony didn’t seem to agree. He tried sending Bertie a telepathic message. Just say no. Come on, you can do it. One little word.
“Uh, well, sure. Let me check my calendar.” Bertie nodded like a maniacal pigeon bobbing its head. Keith wanted to smack his own forehead. This girl needed some serious intervention on overextending herself.
“Actually, Bertie has a massive deadline looming with my house. And I’m real hard-ass to work for.” Keith thought he heard Bertie mumble, “no kidding” under her breath. “I’ll come to the meeting and fill in for her. If we get desperate, we can bring in Harmony’s queen of volunteering.”
Bertie gaped at him, and Dottie pursed her coated hot-pink lips. “All right, Mr. Big Shot. Let’s see what you’ve got. Bertie, you’re off the hook…for now.” Dottie picked up a to-go cup from the Toot-N-Tell. “Oh, would you mind taking care of Sweet Tea for the next three days? I’m taking my grandkids down to Six Flags.”
“No problem.” Bertie cut her eyes at him as if she could hear the grinding of his teeth. Did she not learn anything? He’d given her the perfect out.
“Good. Come on, Tyler. I need to get you home before your mama hangs me up by my toes.” Tyler trotted over to Dottie as he waved good-bye to Maddie.
After changing clothes in the worn-down, ill-equipped locker rooms, Keith left Harmony and drove the fifteen minutes to Raleigh with Bertie and Maddie to an outdoor café for lunch. Bertie checked her phone for emails and texts and made calls, apologizing profusely for being so rude, but she explained she didn’t want to miss any deadlines.
Keith half listened to Maddie tell him for the thousandth time how she wanted to stay home and not return to boarding school, and half listened to Bertie’s one-sided conversations into her phone. Some of the calls were related to his house, but the others were all over the place. Like she told the committee for the Downtown Get Down festival that she’d decorate the food tent. And then she talked about ordering plumbing fixtures for something called Dwelling Place, saying she’d put more money in the account. She took a couple of other calls about collecting iPads for the troops overseas, delivering meals, and recovering some barstools at the Dog.
Bertie’s phone chirped again, and Keith plucked it from her hand and turned it off. “Enough. You haven’t taken a bite of that grilled chicken salad. Day off. Remember?”
“Yeah. Don’t work anymore.” Maddie shoved some hot fries in her mouth.
Bertie stabbed at her salad with a little too much force. Around a mouthful of lettuce, she said, “May I have my phone back, please?”
Keith snatched a few fries, shaking his head. “Nope. We need to discuss which movie we want to see, and Maddie wants to ask you some questions about the summers around here.”
Bertie flashed Keith the glare of death and then smiled at Maddie. “Okay. Ask away.”
Maddie shrugged her thin shoulders, her features morphed into the classic puppy dog look. “Well, I have to spend the summ
er in Harmony and, like, I won’t even know anybody, because I don’t go to school around here.” Keith’s expression remained neutral, waiting to see what she’d pull next. “I mean, it’s unfair. Everyone will be going to camp or whatever, like I won’t have anyone to hang out with.”
Bertie chewed on a piece of ice. “I know lots of kids hang around for the summer. There’s the community pool with a massive slide, and the theatre in the park puts on plays. Lots of kids spend time at the lake, swimming, sailing, and boating. At night they grill hotdogs and burgers and roast marshmallows. That used to be one of my favorite things about the summer. Everyone loves going to the lake. And the Jaycee runs sports camps. I’m sure they play tennis, and after what I saw today, you’d be awesome.” Bertie picked at the roll on her plate. “What do you normally do in the summers?”
“Usually Aunt Francesca takes me on a trip or we go to her house in the mountains.” Maddie pushed a hunk of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. But sometimes it’s boring.”
“Come on, Maddie. You make it sound like the penitentiary, with only bread and water for three months. You’ve always had a good time with Aunt Francesca. Most kids would love to take those trips.” Keith didn’t want to get Maddie’s hopes up, but maybe this summer they’d spend time together as a family…with his new wife, Gail. Thinking of Gail while having lunch with Bertie and Maddie made him slightly queasy. But just because he found Bertie physically attractive didn’t mean he wanted to be sucked under by a rip current and drown in the exhaustion that made up Bertie’s life. He’d already traveled and experienced the world many times during his playing years. Bertie still had that spark and desire to go out there and conquer it with flash and sparkles and fireworks, which she deserved. Anyone with that dream should do everything in their power to make it happen. One day, he hoped to pass the dream on to Maddie, but right now, he didn’t need the limelight to make a good life for him and Maddie.
Keith dragged his attention back to the present and caught the tail end of Bertie’s story about cheerleading camp.
“…and then I fell off the top bleacher and broke my arm, and that ended my cheerleading career forever,” Bertie laughed.
“How did you learn to be such a good dancer?” Maddie asked.
“Yeah, because you obviously can’t skate, cheerlead, or play tennis.”
“Dad! Bertie did awesome today. It was like her first time, and she didn’t grow up around tennis like we did.”
Keith chuckled at Maddie’s staunch defense of Bertie. He winked at his overextended, workaholic decorator and said, “You’re right. She did great for a beginner.”
“And I’m only going to get better when I start taking lessons from that good-looking pro. What was his name?”
“Over my dead body,” Keith heard himself growl.
“No, that wasn’t it.” Bertie tapped her chin with her finger. “I think it was Julian. I have his card.” Bertie reached for her handbag on the back of her chair.
“You actually got his card?”
“Hm-mm. When you were signing balls for your adoring fans.”
“Is this true?”
Maddie nodded. “I think so. He came over to Bertie and started talking, but then I played pinball.”
Keith tossed his napkin on the table. “I don’t believe this. Like I can’t teach you how to play tennis. Do you have any idea how much people would pay to hit a few balls with me? You can’t afford me, and I’m offering my talent and years of training for free.”
“You think they’d pay a thousand dollars for an hour?” Bertie asked.
“Hell no. More like five thousand dollars.”
Bertie gave Maddie a high five. “You were right.”
“What’s going on?”
Bertie shoved a huge bite of salad in her mouth and smiled while she chewed.
“Madeline, do you mind filling in your dear old dad, please?”
“Well, Bertie was talking to that lady with the big blond hair and the black shirt with the pink ruffles. You know the one—”
“Dottie Duncan, I know. So?”
“So, that lady was saying how they want to have an exhibition match with you, and then Bertie suggested they should have a…you know, where people bid on things?”
“Auction?” Keith supplied.
“Yeah. So people would bid to play with you for like an hour.” Bertie nodded in encouragement. “And Bertie said she bet you could bring in like a thousand dollars, but I told them that people have paid five thousand dollars to hit with you. Like that time down in Florida. Right, Dad?”
Keith sat back hard in his chair. People strolled by their table and gave them curious looks and soft music played from strategic speakers hidden in the ground cover, but he barely noticed. He was too astounded at being “handled” by his ten-year old daughter and his quirky decorator, who did more planning, shuffling, hand-holding, and babysitting than she did decorating.
He crossed his arms. “I’m almost afraid to ask. But what am I being auctioned off for?”
“The rejuvenation of the Jaycee, what else? Dottie asked me if you’d help and I said yes, of course,” Bertie said with a cheeky grin. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course.” As if Keith agreed to this kind of thing all the time. Jesus. Bertie had an addiction to three little letters. Y. E. S. Not only did she always say yes when asked to volunteer, but now she was saying yes for him and volunteering his services. His own agent never assumed he’d support anything without months of calls, emails, contracts, and meetings. But little misguided Betty Boop volunteered his name as if she were bringing a covered dish to the next potluck.
“I merely suggested that it’d be a great way to raise some money. The whole town wants to come out and watch you play. It’s not every day we have such a huge celebrity living in our small town midst.” Bertie had the nerve to bat her eyes at him.
“Please stop. I’m not sure my huge ego can take much more.”
“Come on, Dad. You can bring in so much money. You’re the best.” Yep. Required sucking-up from his biggest, most loyal fan. “Will you do it?”
Keith paused and gave Bertie a long look. “I need to make sure it’s worth my while.”
Bertie stopped chewing as her brows slammed together. “Worth your while? You won’t do charitable work without making a profit? That’s obscene!”
“Huh? I don’t get it,” Maddie said.
Keith picked up the bill and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “You need to use the restroom before we go, honey?” Maddie nodded. “Go ahead while I pay the bill.” Maddie pushed back her chair, and Keith made sure she entered the restaurant before focusing on Bertie’s blazing green eyes and stubborn chin.
“I’m not talking about money.” Keith allowed his gaze to zero in on Bertie’s plump lips. “What are you going to do for me if I go through with this auction?” he said in his best smarmy voice. A gasp escaped her lips.
Keith chuckled. “And I don’t mean free pillows or a new lampshade.” He deliberately leered at her chest where soft flesh peeked out from the lavender V-neck sweater she wore.
Bertie stammered, “You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, but I am.” He let loose a villainous laugh.
Bertie crossed her arms over the luscious breasts he’d been ogling. “Nothing. I don’t want to do anything for you.”
“Oh, but you do. And so do I. Think about it. We’ve got plenty of time.”
Keith waited, wondering how long it’d take, and then Bertie blasted him. About three seconds.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Keith Morgan. If you think I’m going to…arugh.” Keith shoved a roll in her mouth.
“Shhh. Maddie’s coming.”
Bertie worked the roll around in her mouth and then gulped her water to wash it down while she glared retribution at his head.
<
br /> Chapter 17
Four days had passed since Bertie had spent the day with Maddie and her sneaky, frustrating, totally ripped, royal-pain-in-the-butt dad. It was Sunday and Bertie was still fuming over his proposition of sex for charity work. Well, not exactly fuming. More like sighing and aching and kind of wishing she was the type of girl who’d actually go through with it. She was pretty darn sure he’d been teasing, because he thrived on having the last word like he thrived on winning tennis matches.
Later that afternoon, during the movie about kid sleuths and smart-talking dogs which was ten-year-old appropriate but not interesting enough to hold a jaded ex-pro tennis player’s attention, he’d done things like dropped popcorn in her lap and then pretended like he was picking up loose kernels instead of copping a feel. When he’d danced his fingers across the tops of her legs, searching for pay dirt, Bertie had clamped her thighs together like a vise, but felt a tingling that surged from head to toe, stopping at very crucial spots along the way. She’d swatted at his hand, hoping not to attract Maddie’s attention, and Keith sent her a wicked, delicious smile that promised all kinds of hot and sweaty physical activity which Bertie knew had nothing to do with a racket and a fuzzy yellow ball. All teasing aside, they’d had a pleasant day, and she’d enjoyed relaxing and not working. Keith had apologized again for being a complete ass the night of the sleepover, and she decided to let the tortured, misguided, single dad off the hook.
Bertie checked her watch to discover that she’d been working at her desk for almost two hours, writing up purchase orders and paying invoices. She’d requested express shipping for fabrics and furniture, needing to expedite the process to meet this ridiculous time frame on Keith’s renovations. A familiar beep sounded from her cell and she checked the screen. Gary had texted pictures of possible lamps he’d spotted at a store in Raleigh for Keith’s family room and guest rooms. The shopping was always better in Raleigh. Bertie picked her phone up and texted back: like. like. hate. maybe. Hell no.
Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) Page 20
