Page 77 of Over Time Advantage

Bailey pulls her. “Come on, little Einstein. Let’s go.”

When they disappear, I look at Tanner. “What the hell does foment mean?”

He chuckles. “It was her word of the day last week. It means to incite.”

I exhale a long breath. “That kid better get a perfect score on her SATs.”

He smiles. “No doubt.” Looking my sporty dress up and down, he asks, “Are you playing tennis again?”

I played years ago but haven’t in a long time. “No, pickleball.”

He perks up immediately. He plays now and then, though I imagine free time is hard to come by for him these days. “Are you playing with Darian? I know she and Jackson play all the time. Look out for her. She plays with ruthless aggression.”

I let out a laugh. That doesn’t surprise me at all. I briefly contemplate making something up, but I don’t make a habit of lying to him. “I’m playing with Jett.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “You’re finally going out with him?”

I chew my lower lip nervously. “We’ve been quietly dating for several months. Not many people know about it. Harper has had a lot of changes recently. She’s managing well. I don’t want to rock the boat just yet.”

His face immediately softens. “I think it would be great for her to see her mother in a healthy relationship. If you two are serious, he should spend time with her.”

I nod as I consider his words. “Maybe. He’s got issues with his kids too. We’re not ready to take this public quite yet.”

He raises an unamused eyebrow. “His kids are adults. They can handle their father having a girlfriend.”

“His son has a bit of anxiety surrounding his dating. Neither he nor his ex-wife has ever introduced anyone to him. We’ll probably wait until he leaves for college at the end of the summer.”

He shakes his head. “Did anyone consider maybe he has anxiety because he’s never seen it before? That maybe it’s time to rip off the Band-Aid?”

I shrug. “Not my kid. I don’t get a vote, and honestly, Tan, if we were out and about, we’d probably be photographed. I’d rather enjoy this newer phase with some peace and quiet without outside interference.” My eyes meet his. “I’m happy. We’re happy.”

His look of concern morphs into a smile. “Well then, I’m happy. You deserve to have someone special. That fucker better treat you right.”

I let out a laugh. “He’s amazing to me. I promise.”

He nods. “Good. If you need a pickleball paddle, I have a bunch in the mudroom. Feel free to take one. You can keep it. I have a few new ones coming in this week.”

“Why so many?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Just wait until you get hit with the pickleball bug. Every time a new and exciting paddle comes along—guaranteed to make you better—you’ll buy it. I’m a sucker. We all are.”

I walk into Jett’s pickleball club and see him waiting for me in the lobby. He’s in black athletic shorts and a dark green T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, and he’s wearing a backward Beavers hat. The man is edible no matter what he’s wearing. Or not wearing.

He gives me the sexiest smile when he sees me walk in, immediately approaching me and pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes into my hair as I hear him inhale me.

I smile into his chest. “It’s been two days.”

“Two days too long.”

He so outwardly into me, never bothering to hide it. It’s refreshing. I didn’t think there were men like him out there, especially ones who look like he does.

He pulls back but keeps hold of my hand. He’s always touching me, no matter what we’re doing. If we’re eating, he has a hand on my leg or behind my chair while massaging my shoulder or neck. If we’re walking, he places his arm around me or holds my hand. If we’re watching TV, he pulls me close to cuddle. And in bed? The passion is there. Every single time. He worships my body as long as I’ll let him do so. Even when we sleep, he pulls me on top of him, always wanting me close. And cleaning me in the shower is practically an obsession for him.

“You look pretty,” he compliments. “And so damn sexy.”

I look down at the tennis dress I bought. It’s black, sleeveless, form-fitting, and very short. “Thank you.”

“How was practice this morning?” he asks as we walk further inside the club.