27. Winter

Dinnerwith my parents was such a huge success that they invited Asher to play couples tennis with us at The Dunes on Monday. While I'd rushed to make excuses about classes, he'd calmly accepted.

I waited outside the sorority house the next afternoon, wearing the new tennis outfit I'd just bought.

Asher pulled up on his bike and flipped up his visor to look at me. "You got underwear on under there?"

"I'm beginning to think you've got panties terminally on the brain."

"Only yours, DeLaurie."

I cleared my throat and changed the subject. "Did you bring whites?"

"Don't worry. I won't embarrass you."

I pulled on my backpack stuffed with rackets and a change of clothes, then shoved on the extra helmet Asher handed me. He set off with a roar, and I clamped my arms around him, resting my head against his back. We were at the club in no time.

"So, you've played doubles before?" I asked him as we dismounted.

He took my helmet and clipped it to the bike along with his. "Nope. Never."

"But you've played tennis, right?" I followed him into the country club.

"Maybe in tenth grade gym? I can't really remember."

I stopped in the foyer, a sinking sensation in my gut. Oh my God. He was going to embarrass us both, and the days of my dad's approval were numbered.

"Should I fake being ill? I can do it. At HHH, I had a record for getting out of gym class for nearly two years," I told him.

He chuckled. "Have faith, Winter. I'm sure I can play a little tennis…well enough to beat you, that is."

I folded my arms over my chest, indignation drowning out my worry. "Excuse me, I've been taking lessons here for years. You think you can just pick up a racket and be better than all that practice?"

Asher smiled, his hands in his pockets. He rocked back on his heels. "Don't be jealous. Some of us are just naturally athletic."

"Bite me, Martino." I shoved past him.

"Later, I promise," he murmured in my ear before sloping off to change.

I fanned my face. I felt hot, even though it was barely thirty degrees out and we'd be playing indoors. Maybe I was coming down with something?

Yeah, right.Maybe it had nothing at all to do with the surprisingly smooth bad boy who stared at me with warm dark eyes and a devilish grin that would tempt a nun.

He made you feel special when he smiled at you. That was what it was. It was his superpower, and if I wasn't careful, soon I'd be in his thrall. Soon? Right.

We met my parents at the inside courts. Asher in tennis whites was something else. How he could even make white shorts and a pressed polo look badass, I had no idea. The tattoos probably had something to do with it. Those, or the arms beneath the ink, flexing strong muscles whenever he twirled his racket. I couldn't stop staring.

"Winter and I will play together, and Angela and Asher can play." Dad winked at me.

My mom was a passable player, but my dad and I were a great doubles team. We could anticipate each other's moves. Charles DeLaurie liked to win, so he was hedging his bets.

"Sounds good to me, if you'll have me, Angela." Asher turned on the charm for my mom.

She tittered, coming to stand beside him.

"Okay, you can have the first serve," Dad called to Asher and Mom.

Asher shook his head. "I insist Winter takes the honor."

I narrowed my eyes at him, taking my position at the back line. Was he being a dick? I couldn't tell, but I didn't think so. He sank into a ready stance and watched me patiently.

I lined myself up and gave it my best shot. My first serve was great, skimming the net and flying past Mom before she could stop it.

I grinned, enjoying myself. I had one more perfect serve, until Asher broke it. On my third serve, he managed to return, and then, the game was on.

I wasn't bad at tennis, but Asher, without any kind of experience, was great. He really was a natural athlete. He broke Dad's serve immediately and managed to beat us into the ground — and still make Mom feel like she was playing. I was sweating by the half-hour mark, my heart pounding, and having more fun with my parents than I'd had in a long time. We were laughing, breathless, and trading teasing insults back and forth across the court. When I went to drink water, Asher joined me, taking the bottle from my hand and gulping down a heavy swig. He wiped sweat from his brow, and I stared.

"Your dad, what's his deal? Lose to pump up his ego, or win to get his respect?"

Asher turned to look at my parents. They were talking on the opposite side of the court. My father was a little red in the face, breathing heavily.

He wasn't as young as he used to be, something Mom was no doubt reminding him of at that very moment.

"Win to get his respect…but don't kill him in the process. Make it quick."

He smirked at me. When the light from the floor-length windows hit his face just right, his dark-brown eyes were striped with gold. "Are you begging me for mercy?"

I was about to retort with something cutting and sarcastic but bit my tongue. Instead, I gave him a sweet smile. "Can't I just have it? You know I always get what I want…"

He chuckled, leaning a strong, tanned arm on the wall next to me. "What is this new approach? I like it."

"My mom told me this morning that I could catch more flies with honey, so I'm giving it a go."

He considered my words and cocked his head to the side. "Did you just call me a fly?"

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. "You're not just a pretty face, Martino, and don't let anyone tell you different. Don't give my dad a heart attack, please."

Asher leaned in and chucked me under the chin. "No promises, Ice Queen. Come on, let's play."

He went to move past me then ducked down to press his lips against my ear. "I like the way your tits bounce in that outfit."

He moved away before I could whack him with my racket.