40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,28
appear comforted by Tess’s cheery tone. “You’re not a kid, though.”
“No, I’m not. But Lucas is.”
Tess let the door swing shut behind her.
Lucas was leaning against the clubhouse wall, his eyes on his sneaker-clad feet, when Tess approached the courts. Then he glanced up and saw her, and to her shock, he actually rushed toward her without an ounce of his characteristic indolence.
“Tess!” he called out, his gaze intent on her as he loped in her direction. “I’m glad you’re early. Let’s talk for a minute before we start the lesson.”
On a scale from one to ten, her desire to discuss the young woman who’d visited him earlier that afternoon was negative infinity. But she supposed she couldn’t escape at least a few seconds of postmortem conversation, much as she wished she could.
No matter. She was the adult in the room. Er, the court. She could handle this. She could handle him.
Moments later, he’d arrived within a step of her, and she held her ground. When he reached for her arm, though, she backed up a little. Not far. Just enough to make her point clear.
He watched her place herself out of his reach, his mouth compressed into a thin line. But he didn’t protest or close the distance between them.
“Tess…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I owe you an apology. I’d forgotten that my, uh”—his voice, low and quiet, faltered—“friend Karolina was arriving today. If I’d remembered, I—”
Oh, Jesus. Time to cut this off.
“No need to continue. I get it.” She directed a bright smile somewhere over his left shoulder. “You wouldn’t have asked me to lunch. I totally understand, and we don’t need to talk about it anymore.”
He shook his head, dipping his chin to bring his face closer to hers. “That’s not what I was going to say. I wanted to have lunch with you. I’d still like to—”
“You know what?” She forced herself to make full-on eye contact with him. “Remember how you offered to keep things strictly professional two nights ago? No flirting, no innuendo?”
After a few seconds, he gave a small, slow nod.
“Let’s do that today,” she told him.
The shine in those olive-green eyes dulled, and his face seemed to sag.
“I should take better advantage of your tennis expertise. While we play, why don’t you tell me more ways I can improve my game?” She gestured toward the clubhouse. “Do I need to pick out a racket again?”
His jaw worked. “No. I set yours aside for you. I have it in my bag.”
His cheeks and chin appeared freshly shaven. He wasn’t wearing the same clothing from their picnic, or even from his lesson before the picnic. The new outfit was dry and spotlessly clean and unwrinkled, as if he’d changed just before her arrival. The skin beneath his eyes looked bruised and baggy, though, and those crags in his face—so odd for someone so young—seemed deeper somehow, the lines across his forehead more distinct.
Given the circumstances, what right did he have to look so…defeated? Resigned? What exactly was she seeing in his face?
God, she didn’t even know. But she was fighting the impulse to grab his arm and apologize, even though she’d done nothing wrong and been nothing but polite to him.
No. This was the right call. She was doing the right thing.
“So are we ready to play?” Another moment of eye contact, and then she couldn’t take it anymore. “Because I’d really like to get on the court. As soon as this lesson is done, I need to keep working.”
A long pause. He opened his mouth, only to close it. Then he gave another little nod, his lips quirking into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Of course.” His back straightened, and he hoisted his bag onto his right shoulder. “Whatever our guest wants.”
Nine
Compared to their previous conversation-filled lesson, this one felt more like a wake. Not a fun one either, filled with remembrances and love and music amidst the grief.
No, this was a wake attended only by quiet, emotionally constipated mourners. Possibly ones pissy about not getting more money in the will.
That was just fine with Tess. Better an impersonal and uncomfortable lesson than one that would leave her exposed and disappointed in both him and herself. Besides, she was getting lots of handy tips for her nonexistent future tennis matches back in Virginia. Those were certainly worth the stunningly large amount of money Belle had spent on the appointments.
She wasn’t running for the ball, given the current state of her