Page 78 of Over Time Advantage

“Great. Your daughter is a trip. She’s honestly one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well.” It’s better than well. She and I have become close in the past few weeks. We’ve very naturally become friends.

“Got any insider information for me?” he asks.

“I’m most definitely not your spy, Jeffries, but I’ll tell you she’s an articulate, smart, loyal, dynamic woman. You truly did something right in raising her. I know you like to beat yourself up, but you shouldn’t. I’d be proud if Harper grew up to be like Kennedy. Harper worships her. It’s cute. And Kennedy is good with her. She gets the biggest kick out of Harper’s mouth.”

He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for saying that. I look forward to meeting your little sparkplug. I feel like I already know her.”

“Soon,” I assure him. He’s been asking to meet Harper more and more lately. I’m just a little hesitant, given that she’s never seen me with anyone. Would I love to spend time with both of them at the same time? Of course. Is it a scary proposition to bring someone into Harper’s life? Absolutely. Being a single parent isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a constant balance between your needs and the needs of your child. I’m doing my best to figure out the best timing for everyone involved.

Harper has settled in nicely to Tanner and Bailey’s marriage and the pregnancy. I’m growing more and more comfortable with the idea of her meeting Jett, but I don’t need to rush it.

We walk through rows and rows of the indoor pickleball courts. Wow, this place is bigger than it appears from the outside. And every court is full.

He previously explained the rules of pickleball to me. I may have also watched a few videos to make sure I understand everything. I know how much he loves playing. I want us to have an activity to do together.

After introducing me to a few of his pickleball friends, we get started.

“No Double Dees, you’re the second server, not the first, and it’s 5-7, not 7-5,” I yell with irritation at Jett’s annoyingly good-at-pickleball potbellied friend with the weird nickname who plays every day but doesn’t seem to understand the damn rules properly.

He smiles at me. “Young lady, they say pickleball improves memory, but I never know the score or whose serve it is. Don’t worry, it’s my last game. I’ve been here for four hours. I had to take off my Apple Watch because it kept asking me if I needed an ambulance. That’s when I know it’s time to go.”

Jett smirks as he stands next to me in a ready position. Here’s what I’ve learned today. Jett is a freakishly good athlete. He plays with finesse and ease. The rest of us are dripping with sweat as we run around in crazy circles trying to get to balls, yet he’s barely broken a sweat and is the best one out here by a mile. It’s annoying.

He compliments me when it’s not warranted. I think I’ll tell his daughter about this new red flag of mine. Men who tell me I’m doing well when I’m not.

Doubles Dees serves the ball, and I hit it back into the net. I groan in annoyance. “Ugh. Motherfucker!” I shout.

Jett winks at me. “You’re doing great, angel face. Your form was perfect.”

I scowl at him. “I swear to god, if you give me any more unwarranted praise, no sex for you this week.”

He chuckles. “It’s your first time playing. Relax.”

“Helen,” the woman playing with Double Dees, “is fucking ninety-five with two knee braces, and she’s kicking my ass. This is the most humiliating day of my life.”

He grins widely.

“Don’t show me that dimple right now. I told you, I’ll sit on it,” I threaten.

His eyes light up. “Works for me. It’s a date.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “What time should I come by for the dimple riding tonight?”

“I have Harper’s game, and then she’s with me tonight, remember?”

“Hmm, then you’ll have to sit on my face in the car.” He flicks his tongue suggestively.

That does sound good. His annoying compliment about my pickleball play is immediately forgotten.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I mumble.

He blows me a kiss before we get back to the situation at hand. I return one that just goes over the net. The old bag pounces on it and slams it at me for a winner.

Jett looks at me. “Good tr⁠—”

“Don’t tell me it was good,” I snap. “Give me the truth.”

“Try to take it deeper,” he instructs.