Chapter 11
OKAY,” JASMINE SAID, SHRUGGING AND LAYING HER TOILETRY bag on the nightstand beside the bed she’d claimed.
Inside, she raged.
It was unfair.
It was bullshit.
It was… what she should have expected.
“Okay?” Indy repeated.
“What else do you want me to say? You have to do what you have to do, Indy. You’re right, it sucks, and I’m kind of annoyed that you talked to Penny about it before me, you know, your partner.
But I can’t ask you to pass up a chance to play in the main draw just for doubles qualifications.
That would be pretty self-centered of me. ”
She tried to keep the bite out of her voice, but some of it seeped through, and she knew Indy could tell by the way her mouth twisted into a small pout.
“It’s annoying that I’m here so early. I could have stayed back at OBX and practiced with Amy to keep my singles game sharp.
It’s still two full weeks until Crystal Palace. ”
“Right, you could have practiced with Amy.” Indy rolled her eyes in very clear disbelief. “Jesus, Jasmine, if you’re pissed off, just admit it.”
“I’m not.”
She really wasn’t. At least, not at Indy specifically.
More at herself for not seeing it coming.
For not preparing herself like she had back in France.
Of course once a spot opened up they gave it to Indy.
She already had a tournament championship under her belt; she was the next chosen one.
That was never going to be her, Jasmine knew that now, had resigned herself to it.
But she was hurt, and that was ridiculous because Indy’s choice was the right one. Still, they’d been working toward Wimbledon together, and now that was shot to hell. “I’m not pissed off at you.”
“I’m sorry I told Penny first, but I had to be sure I was doing the right thing.”
Jasmine scoffed, unable to stop herself. “Tennis comes first for Penny. Wrong person to go to if you’re debating tennis versus literally anything else in life.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Indy said, and then moved to her suitcase, digging through the clothes and pulling out some crumpled fabric and a small toiletry bag. “I’m going to shower. I… I really am sorry.”
She left the room, and Jasmine sank back onto her bed and blew out a breath.
Penny and Indy had understated it. Sucks didn’t even come close to describing this clusterfuck.
Doubles was Jasmine’s way onto the tour, the thing that would keep her afloat until she could make a name for herself as a singles player.
Maybe her parents and Felix Wolner and Dom and everyone else were right.
Maybe she should just go play in college and stop deluding herself.
Then, in a few years, maybe she could go pro and see where it led.
What else was she supposed to do? Just be left behind in everyone’s dust?
Watch other people live her dream? And be okay with it?
Jasmine yanked the towel off her head. She stood and strode across the room, staring at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above the dresser.
Her long dark locks were still damp and she needed a blow-dryer if she was going to be ready on time.
Digging through her bag, she found one quickly but came up empty looking for the outlet adapter, the only thing coming between a working blow-dryer and blowing every fuse in Alex Russell’s house.
“Crap.”
Penny probably had one, she thought as she left the room and headed down the hallway toward what she guessed was Alex’s bedroom. The door was shut now, though, and she could hear muffled voices, one much deeper than the other, from behind the solid wood barrier.
Yeah, not a chance in hell she was going to interrupt whatever was going on in there.
She spun around to head toward the guys’ room but instead collided with a warm body behind her. A hand shot out to steady her at the elbow.
“Jasmine Randazzo,” the voice belonging to the body said, the soft accent hitting the double z at the end of her last name in the way only an Italian’s would.
“Sorry,” she said, looking up into the hazel eyes of Paolo Macchia, crinkled at the sides as a smile widened over his face.
“Figurati,” he said, and when he noticed she had no idea what he was saying, he translated. “Don’t worry about it.” His warm hand squeezed her elbow and then he stepped back a little. “Do you remember, we met in Paris?”
“Paolo, right?” she asked, playing it cool.
Of course she remembered.
Who could forget him, with his beautiful smile and dark curls and a body like that?
He glanced over her shoulder. “Were you looking for Penny?”
“Yeah,” she said, but laughed lightly. “I think she’s a little busy.”
“They are almost always busy.”
Jasmine groaned.
“Exactly.”
She laughed again. “You don’t have a blow-dryer, do you?”
“Blow-dryer?” His forehead crinkled.
“Hair dryer? Secadora de pelo?” she tried in Spanish.
“Asciugacapelli,” he translated, and motioned for her to follow him down the hallway. His room was right next to Jack and Teddy’s, and she leaned on the frame of his doorway while he unplugged his asciugacapelli from the wall. “All yours.”
He held it out to her and she took it, letting her fingertips brush against his deliberately. He chuckled softly and held the contact for a moment, before she chickened out a little and took it from him.
She turned to go back to her room just as the Harrison brothers emerged from theirs, both in dress pants and collared shirts. Teddy in gray and Jack in a violet color, both brothers looked like they’d stepped off the pages of a catalog.
As far as she knew, Paolo had never met either of them. “Paolo, this is Jack and Teddy Harrison. Penny’s brothers.”
“She’s told me much about you both,” Paolo said, shaking their hands firmly.
“Paolo was just lending me his asciugacapelli.” She said the word slowly, but he hummed his approval at her pronunciation.
“His what?” Teddy asked, his eyes flying back and forth between her and Paolo, then his gaze finally staying on her for what felt like the first time in forever.
“His hair dryer, little brother,” Jack said, clapping him on the shoulder and nodding at the object in her hands.
“Oh, right.” He looked away again, even as Jasmine tried to meet his eye.
“Is there a party out there?” Indy’s voice rang out from the other end of the hall.
“Something like that,” Jack called back. “Come on, boys, let’s let the ladies finish getting ready. On my way in, I thought I saw a nice bottle of bourbon that any man dating my sister would be wise to let me sample.”
The guys all headed down together and Jasmine turned, hair dryer in hand, forcing a half smile in Indy’s direction.
They dressed without speaking, moving around the room, keeping a heavy distance between each other as they dried hair and applied makeup.
Jasmine wasn’t going to break the silence.
She’d been honest with Indy, she wasn’t angry, but this tension wasn’t her fault either.
If she wanted things to be less awkward, Indy was going to have to make the first move.
A half hour of silence and Penny showed up at their door. “Are you guys ready?” she asked. She wore a pale pink slip dress with lace at the hem falling to her mid-thigh, gold heels making her nearly Indy’s height.
“Ladies,” Alex said from over her shoulder. “You both look lovely.”
Paolo, Jack, and Teddy were all in the library sipping what Jasmine recognized as ridiculously expensive alcohol that her dad was particularly fond of.
“We got a head start,” Paolo said before he gulped down the last of the amber liquid in his tumbler. The other guys followed suit. Jasmine hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since France, and when Paolo refilled his glass, she stepped up and took it from him, downing it in one gulp, licking her lips.
“Good,” she managed, her voice a little rough. He took the glass back, his fingers curling over hers. He looked at her through heavily lidded eyes, gaze flicking from hers to her mouth and then slowly back again in clear approval, lit with just a bit of mischief.
The heat of it sent a surge of want through her. She liked being looked at like that, by him. Paolo’s tongue darted against his lower lip and she followed the motion intently as he opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Alex announcing that the cars had arrived.
Thank God because if he kept looking at her like that, she was going to suggest they just skip dinner entirely. Not that it seemed like he would mind.
The restaurant was a hot spot, and as usual when you were with Penny and Alex, the sidewalk was lined with photographers all wanting to get a good shot of the celebrity golden couple.
Jasmine stepped out of the car, her heel catching immediately in a crevice between the cobblestones that lined the old London street, but a warm hand at her back, the same hand that had steadied her earlier in the hallway, caught her and kept her balanced.
“Thank you,” she said, and as they made their way as a group through the throng of photographers, Paolo stayed with her, his hand at the small of her back, spreading warmth over her skin like nothing had in a very long time.
The ma?tre d’ took one look at their party and led them to one of the best tables in the house.
It was the kind of quality place that kept its best tables out of the center of the restaurant, allowing celebrity clientele a modicum of privacy rather than using the cachet to attract other patrons.
Their table was up a flight of stairs, overlooking the rest of the restaurant, big enough for them all to sit comfortably but not so large they couldn’t have a conversation across it.
The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, the sconces lit dimly, creating an atmosphere just a little bit romantic, if you wanted it to be.
And as Paolo waved away their host and pulled out a chair for Jasmine, allowing her to sit before he sat down beside her, she realized that she definitely wanted it to be.