Chapter 5
FOURTH.
Dom ranked her fourth in the Classic.
Sure, after coming to OBX, Indy had every intention of taking everyone by surprise in the tournament, battling her way into the final and winning the whole damn thing.
She hadn’t expected Dom to rate her so highly.
He hadn’t even watched her train before he put the rankings out—and thank God for that, because he probably would’ve changed his mind.
It was all she could think about during lunch, right through the afternoon workout in the gym, and during dinner, just before he posted the list—that and the word Coach D’Amato had used during morning practice.
Inaccettabile. That’s what the tiny Italian coach called her footwork, and now, the day was almost over, but the word was still ringing in Indy’s head.
She was ranked fourth, even with her inaccettabile footwork.
Indy didn’t speak Italian, but that was easy enough to translate: unacceptable, not good enough, weak. That meant more practice. So, after dinner she headed straight out to the practice courts to start addressing that weakness.
Tossing her bag against the fence, she leaned down and grabbed the small orange cones sitting on the ground.
She’d start out simply. Moving to the middle of the court, she placed them about ten feet apart and stood in the center.
One crossover step to the right and then back to the middle, another crossover to the left and retreat again.
Over and over, keeping her feet moving and then faster and faster, like she’d seen Jasmine Randazzo do this morning at practice, like Penny Harrison did against Zina Lutrova.
Time flew, the spring sun beginning to set, and as the scuffing of her sneakers against the hard court sped up, so did her breathing, coming in short puffs.
Her legs were tired after a long day of training, but that was all the more reason to push through.
She couldn’t just take a little break during a match if her legs got tired.
Finally, she had to stop to catch her breath, hands on her knees, sucking in as much air as she could.
There were eyes on her. Indy could feel the stares burning into her skin like white-hot laser beams, making the hair at the back of her neck, now sticky with sweat, stand up on end.
She turned and saw Addison Quinn and Lara Cronin, who’d giggled when Jasmine snubbed her that morning.
Lara was her first-round opponent in the Classic and Addison was the one who’d collapsed into sobs when she hadn’t made the cut at all.
Indy bit back a sharp comment and ignored them, hoping they’d go away.
She started up her drill again, focusing more closely on keeping her footwork crisp and her strides long.
They were still there. She could feel them, and anytime her drills took her close to the fence, their hushed, biting whispers, unintelligible but clearly about her, would stop.
“Look,” Indy said, finally unable to ignore them any longer.
She slid to a halt and whipped around. They stood at the baseline of the court, a few feet behind her, hands on their hips, looking ready for a fight.
“I don’t have time for this crap. If you want to train, you’re free to join me. Otherwise leave me the hell alone.”
Addison huffed and Lara’s eyes narrowed, but a stony silence was their only reply.
“That’s what I thought,” Indy said, turning back to her cones.
“It’s not like you have any chance, anyway. I’m going to destroy you in the first round, bitch,” Lara muttered.
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” a voice called beyond the gate, getting closer with every word.
Indy whirled around again and stared at the guy the voice belonged to as he made his way onto the court.
She hadn’t even seen him approach—he was easily the best-looking man she’d ever set eyes upon.
Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t even begin to cover it, but it was a good start.
He was built, not super skinny like some really tall guys tended to be, dressed in jeans and a crimson T-shirt with HARVARD TENNIS emblazoned across his chest—his very broad, very firm-looking chest, from what she could tell.
“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Lara spit out, flinging a hand out toward Indy. “She’s using our practice court, Jack.”
His name was Jack, but… Jack what? He looked sort of familiar, and as Indy tried to place his face, he said, “Last time I checked there were over forty courts around here. Why don’t you go claim another one as your own before I bring Dom down here and tell him about this misunderstanding.”
Lara’s jaw dropped and it looked like she was about to say something else, but Jack crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his T-shirt over the muscle there and making Indy swallow hard. He was too fucking hot for words.
OBX’s self-appointed court police let out twin, long-suffering sighs, and when Jack raised his eyebrow, probably daring them to protest, they marched away from the courts entirely, clearly having no intention of training anyway.
“Thanks,” Indy said, pulling her gaze away from his body and into his eyes, hopefully before he noticed her staring. It wasn’t a sacrifice. His eyes were bright green, an interesting shade considering his dark, thick curls and tanned skin.
“No problem,” he said, closing the gap between them with confident strides. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s bullies.”
Indy laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call them bullies. More like annoying little gnats.”
He chuckled softly. “Glad to hear they didn’t do any lasting damage.”
“Nope, still in one piece,” she said, smiling back at him.
“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Jack Harrison.
” He held out his hand and she took it immediately, hoping hers wasn’t too sweaty.
His fingers wrapped completely around hers.
It was like holding on to a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from the cold.
Jack Harrison. Penny Harrison’s older brother and agent.
She remembered seeing shots of him in the stands during the Madrid tournament, but her phone screen did not do him justice.
“I’m…” She paused, her voice catching in her throat. “I’m Indiana Gaffney. Indy.”
His smile widened. “Indiana. I like that.”
Anyone else in the world and she would have corrected him. No one called her Indiana except her dad, and it grated on her nerves whenever he did, but the way Jack said it, his voice soft and deep, she wanted to hear him say her name all day long. His hand released hers after a gentle squeeze.
“So, how have I not seen you around here before, Indiana?” He didn’t step away, invading her space in the best way possible.
“Today’s my first day.”
“I didn’t think I could miss someone like you.” She blushed, but he nodded in the direction in which the terrible twosome had marched off. “And you’ve already made enemies. Impressive.”
She shrugged, unable to help the grin spreading across her face.
“They’re pissed because Dom ranked me ahead of them for the Classic.
I mean, I was hoping Dom would think I was good enough, but I was shocked when he ranked me fourth.
I’ve only been here a day. It probably wasn’t the best way to make friends, but that’s not really the point of training here, right—”
Then a voice cut her off, thank God, or she would have rambled forever.
“Jack! There you are!” Teddy Harrison strode toward them, hopping the low fence by the gate with such ease Indy supposed he did it all the time. The resemblance between the brothers was astounding, though Jack was far more muscular.
“I’ve been waiting forever. You said you just had to…” He trailed off as his eyes flashed to Indy. “But now it all makes sense. Hi again, New Girl.”
“Teddy,” she said.
“You two know each other?” Jack asked, looking between them.
“Indy was lost this morning and I was gentleman enough to show her the way.”
“Yeah, after he snuck out of some poor girl’s dorm room.”
He went silent, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong again, but Teddy laughed at her calling him out. “So, what were you working on out here by yourself?” Teddy stepped into the space Jack had just vacated beside her, but his closeness didn’t quite have the same effect.
Indy grimaced in frustration. “My footwork,” she said, nodding at the cones. “I was trying to—”
Teddy tsked at her. “You aren’t going to get anywhere with two cones and no one to watch you, right, Jack?”
“What?” Jack asked, and Indy’s eyes shot to the older brother, catching his gaze briefly before he looked away. Had he been looking at her? He’d definitely been looking at her.
“Focus, bro,” Teddy scolded, but his smile was back in full force. “Don’t you know some epic footwork drill we can show Indy?”
Jack’s mouth opened and then closed again, his shoulders stiffening, like he was preparing for battle. “I’m not sure if…”
Teddy shook his head as he picked up the cones she’d set out and tossed them to the side. “Yeah you do. The batshit one that Penny loves, what is it called?”
Indy felt her calf muscles spasm at the thought of another running drill. “Not Einsteins?”
An unexpected guffaw slipped out of Jack’s throat.
“Do you want to show her or should I? I know you’re retired now, old man. You might pop a hammy or something,” Teddy teased from the center of the court, a clear gauntlet laid down for his brother, who couldn’t possibly be more than a few years older than they were.
Jack lifted an eyebrow and then did not disappoint.