Chapter 4
Four
Cassie manoeuvred her battered Corsa into the narrow parking spot beside the Riverside Tennis Club, filled with dread.
She had spent all weekend picturing the woman she’d be coaching today: some flouncy, entitled actress with perfect hair, designer sunglasses, and an opinion on everything. Cassie had never met Delilah Day, but she already hated her.
The key scraped as she turned off the engine, and just as she reached to open the door, a sudden thud rattled against the side of her car.
‘What the hell?’ Cassie barked, yanking the door open.
There, beside a car somehow shittier than Cassie’s, stood a tiny, wide-eyed woman of about thirty. Her hands flailed as if she could somehow patch the dent with sheer panic.
‘Oh! I—I didn’t mean to—I can fix it! I can pay! I’m so sorry!’
‘You bumped my car?’ Cassie snapped. She’d shown up here already angry, and this wasn’t helping. ‘You could have parked anywhere else. The place is half empty. Why would you get so close? Where the hell is your spatial awareness?’
The woman looked around, as if noticing the plethora of options for the first time. ‘Jesus, how did I… You’re right. I’m so sorry, Miss Thorne.’
Cassie blinked at her own name.
‘Delilah?’ Cassie said slowly, realisation dawning.
The woman’s jaw tightened in a nervous smile. ‘Yes. I’m Delilah Day.’
Cassie’s irritation turned to astonishment. She was supposed to survive six weeks of training a pampered diva. Instead, Delilah Day was a walking apology note. Which might actually be worse. A selfish arsehole was something to push against. What the hell was Cassie gonna do with this?
‘Can I get your insurance details?’ Delilah asked.
Cassie shook her head. ‘The car’s a piece of shit anyway. One bump isn’t gonna do much. Forget it.’
Delilah was wordlessly grateful.
‘Come on, let’s get cracking, shall we?’ Cassie said.
Delilah’s lips curled into a small, tight smile, but her eyes stayed sharp, wary. ‘Sure. Lead the way, Miss Thorne.’
Cassie forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It’s Cassie.’