Chapter 10
ten
My cursor blinks on a half-written email but my brain isn’t functioning, so I stack my folders for the GoodBarrel account into neat piles.
Since the company pickleball night, Garrett’s been friendly.
Not flirty friendly, but slightly more interested.
Since we’re moving from barely above a zero on the spectrum, it has to be at least three hundred percent growth.
We talked about how the foam-core signage came in late from a vendor, and he laughed—full-body laughed—when I commented that the delivery driver’s eyes reminded me of Bluecifer, the demonic blue bronco statue greeting travelers at DIA.
That tiny crack in the armor, along with Calder’s advice, gave me hope.
I’d pondered on my options since the night before.
I needed to make Garrett believe I was interested in someone else, but he wasn’t sitting over there checking off my mannerisms on a notepad (as far as I knew).
He wouldn’t notice if I was running my fingers through my hair or pinching the bridge of my nose, so I’d kind of need to smack him in the face with it.
But bringing up a random guy wouldn’t feel natural in our current small-but-growing relationship. However . . . I could bring up a guy he knew. A guy who’d been at our pickleball night. A guy I met and knew he was friends with.
Calder wouldn’t mind, would he? He was the one who gave me the advice.
I grab a file from my desk and march toward his door before I can overthink it.
When I knock, his voice filters through, warm and easy. “Come in.”
He’s behind his desk, sleeves rolled up. It’s polka dots today, and he’s already had one family call. Maybe not the best timing, but if I don’t act now, I’m going to lose my nerve.
I hold up the file like a shield. “Hey, Garrett! Quick question about the Harvest Gala client mockup. I wanted to make sure you were good with the seniority order on the programs before I send to production.”
He looks up, his smile flickering to life. “Yeah, sure. Let’s see.”
I step closer, flip open the file. He reads the first three lines, double-checking the titles. “Yep. Everything looks correct to me.”
I wait for a verbal pat on the head, but when it doesn’t come, I close the folder and step back. “Perfect. Thanks.” He nods and is about to round the desk when I say, “So your friend who came to pickleball the other night, how do you know each other?”
His brows lift. “Calder? Uh, through pickleball actually. Why?”
“Oh, he just mentioned he’s an instructor. I was thinking I’d start some lessons. Try to get past this beginner stage.”
Garrett leans back in his chair with a look of shock. “You’re a beginner?”
I scoff. “Yes, but thanks for that.”
“I’m serious, you don’t seem like a beginner.”
I resist the urge to flip my hair.
Garrett picks up a pen, ticking it between his fingers. “I don’t think Calder’s cheap.”
“Hm. Bummer. If only I got paid more at my job.”
Garrett laughs. “Wow. Low blow.”
“I mean, you’re the one who assumed I was poor.”
An amused half smile tugs at his mouth. “Let’s just say, I’m not sure he’d be the best teacher.”
“Oh yeah?” Was that a hint of jealousy I was picking up on?
“He knows his stuff, but he’s not the most encouraging.”
Something flares inside me at that comment, but I tamp it down. Garrett wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true. So why did it suddenly feel like I needed to defend Calder’s honor?
I cock my head to the side. “You think I need encouragement?”
Garrett’s expression shifts. His chin lifts, his eyes sharpen. “I could drill with you. If you want.”
“I don’t know if I could afford that.”
He smirks and lifts his hand. For a moment, I think he’s going to run it through his hair. He doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for his phone and swipes. “Monday. After work. I was planning to play at seven, but we could drill at six if you want.”
I pretend to check my calendar even though anything I find that conflicts with six o’clock on Monday is instantly getting deleted. “I think that should work. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I force myself to walk slowly out of the office even though I feel like I just hit a star in Mario Kart. Garrett can see through the glass into my space. I have to pretend nothing of any importance just happened for the next five hours even though my entire world tilted on its axis.
Garrett invited me to drill. Alone with him.
I sit at my desk and look very seriously at my computer for a few seconds before frowning a little and pulling out my phone. If he was tracking my body language, Garrett would see “concerned client communications” and nothing else. I text Sam.
Calder’s advice worked!!! Booked for a drill sesh with Garrett on Monday.
Sam
Wow. That was fast. He didn’t even have to buy you dinner first.
Lol.
Tell me everything
So I do. I explain my brilliant plan to use Calder as bait, and I’m halfway through my explanation of Garrett’s pen twiddling when a text comes through from an unknown number.
I spot the word “lesson” and tap it open.
Hey. For lesson Thursday, can we start fifteen minutes earlier? I cleared the court time. I have to leave early for an event. Calder
I barely take in the details because a pit opens up in my stomach.
I told Garrett I was considering lessons, not that I was already taking them.
What if he found out I was there? What if Megan showed up at Smash Point, saw me and Calder and Sam, and mentioned it to Garrett?
It wasn’t that far out of the realm of possibilities.
Hey! Actually, I think we may have to cancel Thursday anyway. A lot going on over here. Let’s pick up next week.
I can’t help it. I have to say something.
And your advice was excellent btw
The three dots appear. A few seconds later, Calder’s message comes through.
Paddle up?
I laugh.
No. Competition
I didn’t want to text more than that. No digital incrimination if Garrett ever found this thread.
The dots appear, then disappear. They appear again, then finally a message comes through.
Glad I could help