Page 19 of Courting Trouble
‘Terrible doesn’t last,’ Cassie replied. ‘And I can see you want to be better.’
Delilah let that sink in. ‘So you’re not annoyed, teaching me?’
‘Annoyed?’ Cassie raised an eyebrow. ‘No. You’re… persistent. That’s not nothing.’
Delilah laughed, slightly breathless. ‘Occupational hazard.’
Cassie studied her for a long moment. ‘Does acting involve a lot of persistence?’
‘Being a failing actress does,’ Delilah said with a smile.
‘You’re not failing. You’re playing Tamsin Rowe.’
Delilah tried not to smile, but it escaped anyway. ‘We’ll see.’
‘You’ll get there.’
‘Will it be fast enough, though?’
Cassie sipped her coffee slowly. ‘I think so. If you want it.’
Delilah nodded. ‘It’s not just about fooling people. You see that, right? I want to become as close as possible to some kind of player. There’s no way I can play her otherwise.’
Cassie nodded. ‘She was a legend. It’s big boots.’
‘I know.’
There was a silence. ‘You know, I can kind of see it,’ Cassie said.
Delilah raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’
‘You kind of look like her.’
Delilah blinked. Tamsin Rowe was a very beautiful person. So, did that mean that Cassie had just calledherbeautiful?
Delilah felt her heart racing like she was on the court.
Twenty
The table was small. Delilah hadn’t noticed at first, but now Cassie could feel her knee nearly brushing against hers under it. She shifted slightly. It was weird to socialise with a client; she didn’t need to make it any weirder.
Except that Delilah didn’t quite feel like a client at this particular moment.
She’d surprised Cassie again, not just with that fluke of a backhand yesterday, but now, with her honest questions, her ridiculous cinnamon monstrosity of a drink, the way she tried not to smile too hard, as if any hint of amusement might give too much away. But now that she’d moved past the breakdown section of the tennis process, Cassie could see she was a very bright type of person. Not optimistic, exactly. Just possessing a certain brightness. A warmth. A spark.
Cassie stirred her coffee once, though there was nothing to stir.
‘Why don’t you train real players?’ Delilah asked.
God. If she only knew.
Real players were unbearable now. The reflexes, the precision, the effortless grace… Cassie had lost all that to a damaged piece of connective tissue. She couldn’t tolerate the reminder.
Cassie considered telling Delilah all of this, sayingI can’t be near the ones who play for real. It’s too painful. Every fluid swing, every perfect serve is a mirror of what I lost. I want it again so badly it hurts.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Instead, she tried to move the conversation in Delilah’s direction. She wanted to learn about her anyway. The role.
