Page 25 of Double Fault

She laughs. “Because he’s good.”

It’s then that I realize the sound of balls bouncing off the court has stopped. I spin around, and my heart drops. Elias is stalking our way, his eyes on us and a half smile is on his full lips. As he approaches, I’m struck again by how big he is. Hot too. Like the kind of hot that has me questioning if he’s even real.

He stops on the other side of the fence and hooks his fingers through the chain-link. “Spying on me?”

“What?” I blurt, backing up a step with a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “No. I was just… it was cool to watch. I don’t know much about tennis, but that was… wow.”

He cocks his head and smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. His irises are a unique shade of blue-green that pops against his light brown skin. He definitely has one African American parent, but the eye color makes me wonder if the other is from some part of Europe. “I remember you from the lobby.”

My heart stutters.You mean to tell me that this Adonis—this perfect specimen of a man—remembers me?

Chin lifted, I clear my throat. “I’m Sabrina.” I give myself a mental pat on the back for not sounding flustered.

He gives me a single nod. “Elias.”

“I know.”

Fuck me, why did I say that?

Eyes sparkling with amusement, he chuckles. “You do?”

I shrug. “I was doing research. I didn’t know much—well, anything—about tennis before I was hired to be this one’s nanny.” I lift my hand, bringing Maddie’s with it.

“Hey, sweetie.” He waves at my sidekick.

“Hey, E.” With a sassy wiggle of her fingers, she returns the greeting. “My dad says you’re going down.” She turns her thumb down and pouts her lips, then mouths, “Loser.”

Elias throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Tell your dad he has to actually play me for that to happen.”

One of his coaches calls his name, garnering his attention.

“I better get going.” He lets go of the fence and steps back. “But Sabrina, if you ever want to learn about the game, I’m happy to teach you.”

He shuffles backward, arms held out wide, grinning as he goes.

That one is a dangerous flirt.

“Hey.” The angered voice makes me jump. “Why are you talking to him?” A sweaty, annoyed Noah stalks our way, his T-shirt clinging to his pecs and abs in a way I try hard not to notice. “I go to the bathroom and come back to find you fraternizing with the enemy?”

“The enemy?” I laugh, squeezing Maddie’s hand.

She’s held on tight most of the afternoon. I love it. At this age, I’d think she’d be trying to pry herself loose from my grip, but she’s more than happy to maintain the connection.

“Yeah, the enemy.” Noah stops in front of us, hands on his hips. “My court’s this way. Next time I’ll have Fisher meet you at the entrance.” He mutters the last part mostly to himself.

Maddie and I sit on the sidelines when we get to his training court. I’m damp with sweat, and so is Maddie. Poor Noah is drenched, though it doesn’t seem to bother him. He scoops up a bottle of water and takes a few sips, then shoves almost half abanana into his mouth. He’s still chewing when he picks up his racket and saunters back onto the court.

Fisher waves from across the court, and as I rest my back against the fence behind me, I wave back.

Noah turns and hits me with a glare. What the hell? Is it because I waved at Fisher? Trying to figure this man out is a full-time job in itself.

“Do you ever play tennis?” I stretch my legs out in front of me, cringing at the way they stick together. God, it’s hot out here. I read these matches can last three hours, sometimes longer. It’s a testament to the athletes’ levels of fitness that they can play in the heat for so long. I think I’d pass out from heat exhaustion during the first set.

Giggling, Maddie mimics my position. “No.”

“Why not?” Head tilted, I study her, noticing the dampness at her hairline.

She purses her lips and hums. “I don’t know. I’d rather watch TV.”

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