12 Jax
Jax sat in the middle of the court and waited while Cora paced back and forth at the far end. Her phone was pressed up to
her ear, and her paddle waved dramatically as she dealt with yet another unavoidable work problem. Or was it another sister
problem? He’d lost track since it was her third call during this specific game. And that wasn’t counting all the other calls
she’d taken since she’d been here. Either it was a really stressful day, or she was the most important person on the planet.
Or option three—which was far more likely—she thought she was the most important person on the planet.
But his job was to try to win her over, so he’d sit and wait. For as long as it took. No matter how many phone calls came
in.
Although he wasn’t above trying to figure out a way to disconnect her phone. Maybe losing signal for a while wouldn’t be the
worst thing.
Speaking of losing, revisiting his current game strategy might be a good idea. It had been a while since he was this far behind
on the scoreboard. And he had to admit, seeing the game slanted in that direction didn’t sit well with him.
Not that he minded losing. It wasn’t like he was the kind of guy who had to win at all costs. Since it was fairly obvious
that winning was important to her, he’d been willing to let her take home the W . After all, his ultimate goal wasn’t to prove which one of them was better at pickleball. It was to prove to his uncle that
he could be committed. If being committed meant letting Cora win, then that’s what he’d do.
He wasn’t going to throw the game, per se, because where was the fun in that? But he had decided to not play at one hundred percent. He’d just knock the ball around, have fun, and see what happened.
But what had happened was she was destroying him.
About halfway through the first game, he’d switched up his strategy. Letting her win was one thing. Being humiliated was something
else entirely. Clearly he was going to have to up his game if he wanted to narrow the split.
When he came out at the start of the second game, he’d thrown out his strategy altogether. Best two out of three meant that
he could at least win one.
But here he was, on the losing side of a six-ten score, and already dreaming about the rematch.
Of course, that would be dependent on her getting off her phone.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, she stopped pacing and stared at her phone. After typing for a few seconds, she slipped the
phone back in her pocket and headed his direction.
“Sorry about that. Work.”
He pushed himself up to standing. “Busy day, huh?”
She seemed confused by the question. “No. This is pretty standard.”
Yep. He’d called it. Self-important. “A lot of emergencies in the commercial photography business?”
“A lot of business in the commercial photography business.” She stepped into the zone to receive the serve. “But on the upside, I’m on vacation
so it’s a lot lighter than normal.”
It took all his effort not to roll his eyes. Compliment. Charm. Woo. That was his plan, and he was sticking to it.
But he was starting to wonder if she was the right person for this project.
Yes, she met all the important criteria.
She was only in town for a limited time.
She had no other ties to him or the town, which would yield a clean break when things ended eventually.
She was looking for a serious relationship (or at least that’s what she claimed).
But no matter how hard he tried, he seemed to be having a difficult time winning her over, which was new territory for him.
She was maybe the most independent woman he’d ever dated, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
In fact, he found her independence quite attractive, but it was making the whole wooing thing harder than he’d expected.
“Shall we resume?” he asked, already backing up to the serving line.
She took up her spot to receive, bouncing on the balls of her feet as if she were ready to pounce. “We just need two more
serves. One for me to get the ball back. And one to finish the game.”
“I like your confidence. Misguided, but admirable.”
“We’ll see.” She winked, which was all the motivation he needed to win the next point. He sent his serve flying over the net
with enough speed to break the sound barrier and the kind of spin that guaranteed that even if she hit the ball, there was
no way it would stay inbounds.
Which is exactly what happened. She managed to hit the ball, but it traveled in a wonky direction toward the other side of
the court.
“Maybe three serves.” He couldn’t help the cocky smile. Yes, he was trying to compliment, charm and woo, but he had to be
true to himself, too.
The comment didn’t seem to faze her. “Just giving you a little extra court time.”
“Aw, how thoughtful.” He spun the paddle in his hand and backed up to the serving line. “But don’t worry about me. I can take
care of myself.”
“We’ll see.” She flashed a sassy smirk and resumed her ready position.
He served again, although this time she was ready for it. Her return shot was perfect, and they volleyed back and forth. There
was no banter this time, no casual conversation as they concentrated on playing the game, hitting hard shot after hard shot.
She was good. Impressively good, actually. He wondered if she’d played tennis on some sort of competitive level. Getting beat
on the pickleball court by a semi-pro athlete made a lot more sense.
Because getting beat, he was. He had to scramble to return a well-placed shot, which ended up being more of a lob. It was
the exact setup she needed to barely tap the ball over the net on the opposite side of the court from where he was.
The distance between him and the ball might as well have been a mile. He watched the ball bounce once, twice, and roll the rest of the way across the court.
He gave her an impressed nod, and he propped his hands on his hips to catch his breath. She returned the gesture with a slight
not-so-humble bow.
Yes, he’d said she was intriguing after their first date, but he was starting to wonder if he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe the
adjective he’d been looking for was infuriating .
She pulled a ball from her pocket and headed to the serving line. “Remind me of the score again,” she said.
“Ten-seven.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said with a taunting grin. “Game point.”
She was in the middle of her serve when he got distracted by a trio of people walking into the court area. Was that really...
***
He hadn’t even finished the thought when he realized his fatal mistake. By the time he returned his attention to her serve,
it was too late. The ball went flying right past him.
And he couldn’t decide which was worse. That he’d lost both games back-to-back, that his date was going so poorly, or that
Cora had to call in reinforcements... from her sister.
“Oh, hey! Look who it is.”
The peppy voice of the trivia winner who’d set him up with Cora rang out across the court. Next to her was the guy who went
to school with his cousin, with a little girl in tow.
Cora spun around. “What are you doing here?”
Bianca gave an innocent shrug. “We let Sylvie play while we were taking a break from setting up the private event. And then
we saw you two.” She clasped her hands together, looking delighted. “What a coincidence.”
Cora, who seemed rather annoyed for someone who’d just won the game, waved her paddle in their general direction. “Jax, meet
my sister Bianca and our friend Luke.”
“I’ve already had the pleasure,” he said. “At trivia night.”
Bianca faked an epiphany. “That’s right! So good to see you again. But you haven’t met Sylvie yet. This is Luke’s niece.”
“Cool. Pickleball. Can I play?” the little girl asked.
Luke shifted uncomfortably. “I think they’re in the middle of a game. We can’t interrupt.”
“Actually, we just finished. I won.” There was nothing humble about Cora’s brag. “I’ll hit the ball with you, Sylvie. There’s
an extra paddle right over there.” She pointed over to the bench where their stuff was.
“Thanks!” The girl ran over and grabbed the extra paddle and hustled onto the court. Luke took up a position next to the net,
coaching her along.
Meanwhile, Jax took the chance to figure out how to get this date back on track. He’d never had a date go this poorly in his
life. Maybe he was starting to lose his edge.
“So how bad is it? Is there any hope in saving it?” Jax asked quietly as he and Bianca pretended to watch the pickleball lesson
from the sideline.
“What?” Bianca looked genuinely confused.
He gave a slight nod in Cora’s direction. “She’s been texting with you the entire time. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist
to figure out you’re here to rescue her from the date. Is this some sort of sister code?”
Bianca studied him for a second, and then her expression melted into one of enlightenment. “Ah. I see what’s going on here.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. After a long breath, she fluttered her eyes open.
“First of all, Cora never needs to be rescued. And don’t think you’re being, like, chivalrous or something, because it will
end badly. If she wanted out of this date, she would’ve walked away on her own.” She paused and thought for a second. “Or
she would’ve taken you down. She’s been equally known to do both.”
“Wait. If you’re not here to rescue her from the date, why are you here?”
Bianca shrugged. “Like I said. Coincidence.”
A new realization dawned on him. “There hasn’t been an incredibly active sister group text going on?”
Bianca shook her head.
“Huh.” She’d made it up. Interesting. He wondered how many of the other phone calls were just for show. She didn’t think she was important. She wanted him to think she was important.
The only question was: Why?
“The thing about Cora is that she’s not great at letting people in. The closer you get, the more her walls go up.”