Page 80 of Here We Go Again

“Think positive. We’ve got this.”

We do not, actually. But we do manage to close the gap to five points instead of the nine we were beaten by in the first game.

“All right, let’s go again,” Theo says, and I exchange a look with his mom across the net.

“How did you survive this when you had two of him in your house?”

She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “Lots of chocolate?”

We all laugh, then we start another game.

We lose this one too, but we are getting better. This time, the moms only win by two.

“Okay, break time,” Mom calls. “I need food, and my muscles need a rest.”

The four of us make our way to the picnic tables situated between the courts. I grab menus from a bin at the edge of the table, passing them around to Theo and our moms. Once we decide what we want, we can walk up to the bar to place our order.

“So, what do you say, Kim?” Mom says as she looks over the menu. “After we eat, should we beat them one more time so it’s an even four games?”

“I think we should,” Kim says. “We’ll be nice and refreshed. Should be an easy win.”

“Okay, rub it in,” Theo says, “but we might still surprise you.”

Mom and Kim give me their orders, then Theo and I walk to the bar together. He peels off for a bathroom break on the way, so when I get to the bar, I’m alone.

The bartender is helping a couple of guys sitting a few stools down, but he gives me a nod that seems to say he’ll be right with me. He’s young, probably about my age, and when he finally comes over, he offers me a wide, dimpled smile. He’s wearing a nametag that reads Andy.

“Hey,” he says, his tone friendly. “What can I get for you?”

I give him our food order, adding a couple of hard ciders for Theo and me.

“Got it,” Andy says as he types it into his iPad. He picks up a number affixed to a little stand and slides it over. “We’ll bring the food to the table, but if you sit tight, I’ll grab your ciders for you now.” He disappears for a quick moment, then comes back, chilled cans in hand. “So who’s winning?” he asks, head tilted toward the pickleball courts.

“Definitely not me,” I say. “My mom just beat me three games in a row.”

“Wow. Brutal,” he says. “If it makes you feel better, you aren’t the first person to tell me that today. It’s usually the moms who are the best at pickleball.”

I laugh. “I’m sure. Mine is in a league back at home, so I expected her to be good, but she’s so serious about it. It’s wild.”

“Back at home, huh?” Andy asks. “You aren’t local?”

“No. From Texas originally. But I live in Georgia now.”

“That’s too bad,” he says, offering me a flirty smile. “If you were from around here, I was going to ask for your number.”

Heat climbs up my cheeks as I let out a little laugh. “Were you now?” It has been a very long time since anyone has asked me out or hit on me in any capacity, and I feel woefully unprepared. I’m not really interested in giving him my number, but I also don’t want to be a jerk about it.

Andy uses a rag to wipe down the bar in front of me, then he leans forward, propping his elbows on his side of the counter. His eyes are dark brown and rimmed with thick lashes. Mia would love his vibe. “Would you have given it to me?” he asks, tone still unapologetically flirty. He’s good—I’ll give him that.

For a split second, I actually consider his question.

If I wasn’t on vacation, would I be interested?

The memory of Theo almost kissing me on the beach yesterday pops into my mind, making my heart turn over in my chest. Once we were back at the house, he was a perfect gentleman for the rest of the night, but all through dinner, I’d catch him looking at me, his expression knowing, like we were sharing some kind of secret. Every single time, his gaze felt like a caress.

So I guess that answers my question. I shouldn’t be giving my number to Andy or anyone else. Not as long as Theo is making me feel like that.

In my periphery, I see Theo approaching.