Page 15 of Courting Trouble
Cassie looked at her. Really looked. There was no smugness in Delilah’s face. No “see, I’m not useless after all” defensiveness. Just curiosity, quiet and earnest. She hadn’t just watched; she’dstudied.
‘That’s a good start,’ she said flatly.
Delilah beamed. ‘So I pass?’
‘You don’t fail.’
‘High praise,’ Delilah muttered, but she was still smiling.
Cassie grabbed a basket of balls. ‘Let’s see if it helped. You’re playing me today, not the machine.’
Delilah’s face dropped. ‘Already?’
‘You’re the one who said you’re fine. Prove it.’
Delilah walked to the baseline, still grumbling, but Cassie could see that she did wantto prove it. Something had shifted. She held the racket differently now. Firmer. More like she meant it.
This had been the intent. Not to teach Delilah tennis. But to get her interested. It was the best way to do this. Get herin. But she hadn’t expected that level of commitment.
Cassie turned away and busied herself with the balls. No need to let her see the astonishment she was feeling.
Seventeen
The ball shot past her again.
Delilah turned slowly, watching it roll to a stop against the fence. She didn’t even bother pretending she could’ve reached it. Her ribs ached from breathing too hard and too fast.
‘That was brutal,’ she gasped, lifting a hand in surrender.
Cassie, of course, didn’t look winded. She stayed planted at the baseline, moving with an economy that suggested she could cover the whole court if she wanted to. The sleeve supporting her elbow was obvious, a subtle reminder that she wasn’t swinging at full power. Still, she held her racket like someone who’d once made a living from this.
‘That was regulation,’ she said calmly. ‘You left the whole backhand side open. I went for the obvious shot.’
Delilah gave her a baleful look. ‘Maybe try not punishing me quite so hard for my amateurishness.’
Cassie raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Just bounced the ball once, lightly, and caught it again.
Delilah limped back into position. Everything in her body felt like it wanted her to quit, and yet—
And yet. She had just found something out about herself. She liked tennis. Watching it. She knewshesucked. That wasn’t the part that got her. She wasn’t really watching for tips. It was watching the players who didn’t. Seeing what was possible. The control. The anticipation. The sheer balletic ruthlessness of it.
She wondered what that felt like, what it felt like to own a court. Of course, she’d never know. But it was intriguing, for sure. Tamsin Rowe had known that feeling. No matter what happened in her personal life—and a lot had happened—she had those moments. Two failed marriages, a drug dependency, bankruptcy, serious injuries, that sex scandal with her sister-in-law… They were only the things that made it into the headlines.
But when she was on the court, Tamsin Rowe must have felt untouchable, the world narrowed to the arc of a serve. Delilah longed for that. The moment of beingcertain, of moving without second-guessing herself. Tamsin had lived whole seasons inside that certainty. Maybe that was what carried her through the wreckage off-court: knowing she’d done something once, fully, and that no one could ever take it away from her. Delilah felt the ache of wanting the same, even for a breath.
She bounced on the balls of her feet now, trying to copy the stance she’d seen in the videos. Knees soft. Eyes up. Racket ready. Probably still wrong.Definitelystill wrong.
Cassie tossed the ball into the air and served.
Delilah darted right, almost on instinct. Her movement was sloppy and slightly late, but notthatlate. Her arm swung awkwardly, her grip still too tight, and the sound the ball made off her strings was a weird, hollowthonk.
But then it cleared the net. It dipped, it spun, and it landed just inside the sideline.
Cassie didn’t move. Her head turned, following the ball’s path, and then she stood there frozen, one hand on her hip.
Delilah blinked. ‘Wait,’ she said.
Cassie turned to look at her, mouth open just a fraction.
