or a good streaming service. I had to listen to the radio for hours on end, recognize the opening bars of the song, hold my little tape recorder next to my radio, and pray my parents wouldn’t make too much noise during the song. Or I’d have to buy the entire album, tape, or CD, depending on how old I was. When I found out about iTunes, I almost cried with joy.”
He ran to reach a ball that barely cleared the net. “Too law-abiding for Napster’s pirating heyday, huh?”
“I’m surprised you even remember back that far.” She missed his return, which bounced past her and hit the back of the court with a rattle of boards. When he produced another can of balls from his bag, she held up a hand. “Let’s take a quick break.”
Obligingly, he dropped a ball in his pocket and leaned on his racket. “As far as Napster, all I can legally tell you is that my older brother had an extensive music collection around the turn of the millennium. And to tackle your broader contention, I would argue that love of music transcends the means by which we acquire it. Also its national origin.”
“I take it you don’t agree with my choice of relevant cultural touchstones.” A few shiny strands of her hair had fallen free from her pigtails, and she tucked them behind her ears. “In that case, I repeat: What would be good ones, then?”
He thought for a minute.
“Much as I hate to say it…international tragedies, maybe? I think we both share some of the same memories, despite our differing ages and nationalities and understandings of the events at the time.” Uncapping a water bottle, he took a sip. Even at night and with an ocean breeze, a Florida summer could suffocate you with humidity. “Or political upheaval. And we’ve both been adults and U.S. residents for the most recent example of that.”
When he tossed another water bottle over the net, she caught it. “So you’re going with the depressing stuff? I’m surprised at you, Lucas. I thought you were all good times and willing women.”
All the depressing stuff had exited his life months ago. And good riddance.
“Oh, I am,” he assured her with a lazy wink. “And I’m not certain any cultural touchstone can really determine how much two people have in common, or whether they’ll be able to understand one another. I would think shared personality traits, interests, and life experiences would be more relevant.”
“So it’s not the years, it’s the model and the mileage?” Her head tilted as she stared at him, and she took a long time to answer. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I guess I would probably agree with you.”
“What? You agree with me?” He gripped the net with both hands and leaned over it, squinting at her. “Who are you? And what have you done with Tess Dunn?”
She didn’t answer.
Something in her eyes had shifted over the past few minutes, while he’d coached her and they’d argued about boy bands and generational landmarks. He wasn’t sure what. But she was evaluating him in a different way, paying closer attention to him and his words than he remembered her doing before.
He wanted to bask in that attention almost as much as he wanted to run from it.
“Tess. Hey, Tess.” He waved a hand in her sightline. “Has prolonged exposure to my handsome visage and superb body finally incapacitated you?”
She didn’t bother to respond to his nonsense, and her eyes remained steady on his face. Studying him. Reading his expressions.
Then she finally spoke, her voice soft. Vulnerable. “Tell me more about why you’re here, Lucas. For real, this time.”
God help him, he almost told her. Almost stripped himself bare for her inspection and revisited the corners of his soul he’d shut away for good last year.
But he wasn’t the same man he’d once been, so his past was no longer relevant. Particularly to a woman who was not only determined to use their age differential as a wedge between them, but also leaving in two weeks.
She was trouble. Too demanding, too defensive, and too tempting. Any entanglement with her might end quickly, but it could still damage him. He knew it already, and he should heed that warning siren of unease, the visceral instinct that had guided him through countless matches and tournaments.
Besides, she’d claimed she wasn’t interested in him, so she had no right to demand answers.
Unless she’d changed her mind?
If so, maybe…
His chest