Chapter 1
INDY’S PALM SLAPPED AGAINST JASMINE’S WITH A SATISFYING thwack. There were grass stains on her elbows and a gigantic bruise blooming on her knee, but neither could stop her wild smile as she caught her breath.
She and her doubles partner were at the top of their game and had absolutely dominated their training session, two separate entities moving around the court as one seamless unit. They were so ready for Wimbledon.
Now she just needed that wildcard.
Two really, one for singles, one for doubles.
Two potential paths to victory.
“Nice,” Dom called from the sidelines, actually standing up and applauding with his own broad smile slipping over his perpetually tanned features.
But he then turned his attention to their training partners, two young men who were regulars on the Challenger circuit, standing flat-footed and winded, grumbling to each other in low tones.
“And what the holy hell do you two think you’re doing?” Dom barked at them.
Indy couldn’t help but smirk at Jas as they listened to Dom’s lecture.
“Last I checked, this was the Outer Banks Tennis Club. Did you think because they’re women they’d be easy pickings?
” he asked, gesturing toward Indy and Jasmine with a sweep of his arm.
“They took the best doubles team in the world to three sets. Indy just kicked the shit out of the entire field in Bari. You’re lucky to share a court with them.
Get out of here. I’m sick of the sight of you. ”
The young men trudged off the court still muttering, and Dom’s eyes narrowed. “Changed my mind. Three tours. Want to make it four?”
The taller one nudged the smaller with his elbow as they both shook their heads and said, “No, Coach.”
“Good. Get lost.”
They took off down the path at a measured jog, conserving their energy for the three laps of the entire facility, a circuitous route that would take them through the maze of forty-five practice courts, finishing up with a sprint across the sandy beach that lined the OBX property.
Jasmine raised her eyebrows toward Indy, who smiled back. In her short time at OBX, she’d endured Dom’s wrath enough to simply enjoy when someone else was his target.
“Ladies, that’s enough for this morning,” Dom called over to them. “Cool down. Indy, get some ice on that knee before it blows up like a balloon.”
She’d taken a little tumble during that last rally, but it didn’t even sting.
“It’s fine,” she said, glancing down at it. “I bruise easy.”
“Okay, then, video analysis after lunch,” he said before leaving them for his next training session.
Indy grabbed her water bottle and swished a mouthful before spitting it out.
Too much water would weigh her down for the rest of the day, but she had to stay hydrated under the hot North Carolina sun as the weather shifted from a warm spring toward what promised to be a humid summer.
Though, if she had her way, most of that summer would be spent far from OBX, on courts around the world, starting with the grass lawns of Wimbledon.
She envisioned herself there as she swung her arms around in slow circles, letting those muscles gradually recover from the intense workout she’d just put in, before moving farther down her body, twisting and bending at her core, then lunging and reaching for her legs.
“Better every day,” Jasmine said as they left the court and headed in the direction of the locker room for a shower and a fresh set of clothes.
Indy pulled her long blond hair free from its ponytail and ran her hands through the sweaty locks. “I just wish they would make a decision.”
They were the All England Club, the British equivalent of the USTA and the people in charge of her fate for the next month or so. It was within their power to grant entries to the Championships at Wimbledon.
After she and Jasmine pushed the number one doubles team in the world to a third-set tiebreaker, it made sense that they’d be granted a wildcard into the main doubles draw.
If the wildcards didn’t come through, they’d both be relegated to the qualifying tournament, but that was out of Indy’s control, and even though it had only been a week since Bari and her first tournament win, patience had never been one of her virtues.
“It should happen soon, maybe tomorrow,” Jasmine said as they entered the locker room.
The buzz of dozens of young women echoing off the tile floors and metal lockers soon faded.
Since their return, the atmosphere at OBX had been strange, to say the least. Indy was used to it.
She’d been an outsider from the moment she arrived, but her stomach twisted for Jasmine, who’d spent her entire career training inside the high fences of the best tennis club in the world.
She didn’t know how to handle the silent glares and fervent whispers that followed them everywhere.
“Ignore them,” Indy said, “they’re just jealous.”
Jasmine sighed heavily. “Just like I was when you first got here.”
Indy shook her head, not letting Jasmine go back down that road. She’d moved on. “To be fair, I can be a massive pain in the ass.”
And that did the trick. Jasmine laughed. “Yeah, you can be, and speaking of asses, how are things with you-know-who?”
“‘Speaking of asses’?” Indy asked, the rest of the question not registering fully.
Jasmine grinned wickedly. “He has a really, really nice one, or haven’t you noticed?”
For half a second, Indy indulged in the memory of exactly how nice Jack Harrison’s ass was and the deep rasping noise he made when she had her hands on it, but then reality set in. Looking around quickly to make sure they were alone, Indy said, “Not here.”
Jasmine stared at her, unimpressed, and then whispered, “You’re not going to be able to keep the secret forever.”
“I know,” Indy said quietly.
“Have you talked to her?” Jasmine asked, thankfully changing the subject. She nodded toward Penny’s empty locker while grabbing her shower kit from her own.
“Yeah,” Indy said, wrinkling her nose. “She’s pissed off that she can’t train.”
“Sucks,” Jasmine said before walking off to the shower room.
“Totally,” Indy agreed. She’d never missed tennis because of an injury before, but just talking to Penny on the phone told her all she needed to know.
She could hear the longing in her friend’s voice to get back on the court, to do something.
But, in true Penny fashion, she hadn’t wallowed for too long.
She’d gushed about being able to spend time with Alex in England and reported that PT was a bitch but going well.
And she’d even hyped Indy up for Wimbledon qualifying because she knew how hard Indy was working, knew how hard it had been to build herself back up after her mom died and how shitty it was that her dad really only cared about Caroline Morneau.
And all the while Indy had sat there biting her tongue and trying desperately not to let it slip about Jack.
God, she was a shitty friend.
A little more than a month ago, Penny and Jasmine hadn’t even known she existed, and somehow they’d become her closest friends. Now she was lying to one and asking the other to lie for her.
Jasmine was right—she needed to come clean; and she would, if she could only work up the courage to do it.
The hot water was heaven after the morning workout.
Indy took her time, letting her muscles recover as much as they could because she’d need them again during that afternoon’s singles training.
Building her endurance up to pursue both was even more grueling than she’d imagined.
She never thought it would be easy, but knowing that in theory was one thing; the everyday reality of it was another.
The locker room was blissfully empty as she emerged from the showers.
Jasmine had gone to lunch with her parents.
So, Indy could get ready in peace. She left her hair alone, knowing the warm air outside would make it curl, and pulled on a pair of white terry cloth shorts, then a bronze T-shirt with the Nike swoosh blazoned across the chest in black.
It was a gift from Penny, who had more Nike merchandise than she knew what to do with after signing a lucrative sponsorship deal to become the face of their tennis line.
Indy smiled to herself, knowing that one day soon, she’d have her own sponsorship deal.
Caroline, her agent, had said as much over and over again since they’d returned from Italy.
She had made contact with all the big outfitters, and it was just a matter of waiting for the best deal and negotiating terms that brought in the most money for the most exposure.
Stepping into the sunshine, Indy shouldered her bag and turned toward the OBX video room to keep cool while analyzing some of her own play from the past week, when a shadow crossed over her path, a large body falling into step with her, close but not touching, their strides matching.
“Jack,” she said, glancing up at him sideways, a small smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.
“Indiana,” he said, echoing back her name, sending a shiver down her spine. He was the only one she didn’t mind calling her that, the only person who made the name she’d hated since forever sound so, so good.
They walked together in silence, turning the corner that separated the courts from the residential area of the complex, but her steps were suddenly cut off when Jack slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into a shady walkway between buildings.
Her heart leapt as he gently guided her back against the wall, his eyes boring into hers.
Walls were their thing. Their first real kiss had been against a wall in a random hallway at Roland-Garros, their second pressed against the wall of their hotel in Paris, and now that they were back in North Carolina, they’d found any excuse to push each other against a wall and kiss until they were gasping for air and their bodies begged for relief.