“I hope you enjoy your work. But if you don’t, you could do pretty much anything, given the right training.” She waited, but he didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. “Do you? Enjoy your work, I mean?”
A quick glance down at his tennis shoes, then at his watch, allowed him to gather himself.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware of her scrutiny. “I have another lesson soon, unfortunately. Let me clean up while I answer that.”
She rose to her feet. “I’ll help.”
They worked together to gather the detritus of their meal with surprising ease. And as they stacked containers, deposited trash in the appropriate bin, and consolidated leftovers, he tried to give her an honest response to her question.
“I love tennis. Always have, from the first time I held a racket at four years old.” The glass bottles of sparkling soda went into the recycling container, and he took care not to break them. “Teaching is usually fun too, although—”
Damn. He probably shouldn’t admit that.
She was watching him from beside the trash bin. “Go ahead. Say whatever it is you were going to say.”
“All right.” Hopefully she wouldn’t be offended. “I usually prefer lessons with intermediate or advanced students.”
She inclined her head in understanding, no evidence of offense in sight. “I’m not surprised. As I know from personal experience, you’re great even with rank amateurs. I’m sure advanced students are more of a challenge, though. And with them, you’re not wasting all the tennis expertise stored in that sharp brain of yours.”
Her words struck him silent. Again.
Talented teacher.Expertise. Sharp brain.
Something was cracking inside him.
It kind of felt like his heart. Or at least something that had surrounded his heart for way, way too long.
After tucking the last few containers of leftovers inside his bag, she zipped it up and joined him near the sturdy wooden rail. “Are you here indefinitely as the resort’s tennis guru? Or is it more of a contract-to-contract sort of situation?”
Below them, the startlingly blue ocean rushed toward the rocks in rhythmic pulses, the impact spraying water high into the air, while seagulls circled and called to one another. In the distance lay white sands and a plethora of sunscreen-covered tourists, as well as the courts where he spent virtually all his waking hours. Beyond that, the clubhouse beckoned, with the shop below and his barren apartment upstairs—the latter full of furniture and notes with various phone numbers inscribed on them, but empty ofhimin every important way.
It was gorgeous here on the island, of course. Easy.
But what was he doing here, really? How long did he actually intend to stay?
His voice emerged thick, for reasons he couldn’t have explained. “My current contract lasts until the end of the year. At that point, I could sign on for another year or do something else.”
What would that something else be, though?
What did he really have to offer?
You could do pretty much anything, given the right training.
In the breeze, her hair blew against his cheek, and he resisted the urge to gather handfuls of the silky strands and bury his face. Hide himself until he sorted out what he was thinking and how he was feeling, other than lost and disoriented.
She tapped her knuckles against the rail. “Do you think you’ll commit to another year?”
The question sounded odd. Tentative, when Tess usually spoke firmly, with ease and authority. She was staring down at the water, her brow pinched as wave after wave piled on shore and wore away those rocks bit by bit.
“I don’t know.” His voice wavered, which was humiliating. So he straightened and offered her a lazy grin, complete with another wink. “You know how it is, right? I need to live in the moment. Get my fill of the sun, sand, and relaxation and not worry about what’s coming next.”
Even though he was willing her to look, to see how unbothered he was, how confident, she just blinked down at the water some more.
“Ah.” She was silent for a long time. “I see.”
He fumbled for a different topic. “You never did tell me what you and Belle did for your birthday. Did y—”
“Excuse me.” A low, feminine voice came from the top of the stairs, and under the harsh island sun, a familiar white-clad figure glowed like a ghost. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to head to my spa appointment, and I wanted to catch you before your next lesson, Lucas. One of your coworkers said you were up here.”
