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We met my parents at the inside courts. Asher in tennis whites was something else. How he could even make white shorts and a pressed polo look badass, I had no idea. The tattoos probably had something to do with it. Those, or the arms beneath the ink, flexing strong muscles whenever he twirled his racket. I couldn’t stop staring.
“Winter and I will play together, and Angela and Asher can play.” Dad winked at me.
My mom was a passable player, but my dad and I were a great doubles team. We could anticipate each other’s moves. Charles DeLaurie liked to win, so he was hedging his bets.
“Sounds good to me, if you’ll have me, Angela.” Asher turned on the charm for my mom.
She tittered, coming to stand beside him.
“Okay, you can have the first serve,” Dad called to Asher and Mom.
Asher shook his head. “I insist Winter takes the honor.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, taking my position at the back line. Was he being a dick? I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t think so. He sank into a ready stance and watched me patiently.
I lined myself up and gave it my best shot. My first serve was great, skimming the net and flying past Mom before she could stop it.
I grinned, enjoying myself. I had one more perfect serve, until Asher broke it. On my third serve, he managed to return, and then, the game was on.
I wasn’t bad at tennis, but Asher, without any kind of experience, was great. He really was a natural athlete. He broke Dad’s serve immediately and managed to beat us into the ground — and still make Mom feel like she was playing. I was sweating by the half-hour mark, my heart pounding, and having more fun with my parents than I’d had in a long time. We were laughing, breathless, and trading teasing insults back and forth across the court. When I went to drink water, Asher joined me, taking the bottle from my hand and gulping down a heavy swig. He wiped sweat from his brow, and I stared.
“Your dad, what’s his deal? Lose to pump up his ego, or win to get his respect?”
Asher turned to look at my parents. They were talking on the opposite side of the court. My father was a little red in the face, breathing heavily.
He wasn’t as young as he used to be, something Mom was no doubt reminding him of at that very moment.
“Win to get his respect…but don’t kill him in the process. Make it quick.”
He smirked at me. When the light from the floor-length windows hit his face just right, his dark-brown eyes were striped with gold. “Are you begging me for mercy?”
I was about to retort with something cutting and sarcastic but bit my tongue. Instead, I gave him a sweet smile. “Can’t I just have it? You know I always get what I want…”
He chuckled, leaning a strong, tanned arm on the wall next to me. “What is this new approach? I like it.”
“My mom told me this morning that I could catch more flies with honey, so I’m giving it a go.”
He considered my words and cocked his head to the side. “Did you just call me a fly?”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. “You’re not just a pretty face, Martino, and don’t let anyone tell you different. Don’t give my dad a heart attack, please.”
Asher leaned in and chucked me under the chin. “No promises, Ice Queen. Come on, let’s play.”
He went to move past me then ducked down to press his lips against my ear. “I like the way your tits bounce in that outfit.”
He moved away before I could whack him with my racket.
Asher
We had almost finished the last set when a slow, sardonic clapping came from the side of the court.
A familiar ugly fucker was standing clapping. His tennis whites were tight around his thick middle, and his face was puffy and red in the natural light. The guy from the stadium, the one who’d put his hands on Winter. Trent. I was satisfied to see he still had a bruised eye.
“Wow, Charles, great game. You’ve still got it!” he called to Winter’s father.
The man in question was looking worse for wear. Despite teasing Winter earlier, I had no intention of giving him a heart attack. I was trying to end the game quickly and would have managed it, too, if my little Ice Queen hadn’t been returning so many of my shots. She was great at this, and she looked damn good doing it. I appreciated seeing a beautiful woman excel at such a sophisticated sport. I could have watched Winter all day, until the moment that fucker had arrived. His beady-eyed gaze stuck to her like gum to the sole of a boot.
I needed this game to be over.
