8

Rachael’s POV

I calmly pulled another racket off the display rack, turning to face them with my arms crossed over my chest.

Raquel?

Oh, please. If the little witch had stalked me enough to know my face, she definitely knew my name.

Gabriel immediately stepped in, closing the distance. “Rachael, this is Amanda,” he said, giving me a pointed, warning look. “Brittany, Josh, this is Rachael.”

As Josh stepped forward and shook my hand, Brittany crossed her arms, sizing me up.

“It’s Saturday,” Brittany said in a snotty, dripping tone I didn’t like one bit. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your kid?”

So much for admiring her forehand earlier.

I caught the lightning-fast, knowing look passed between Brittany and Amanda. My suspicion rose; this entire "coincidental" weekend double date could be a meticulously planned setup. I’d seen Brittany and Josh at this club before, but them inviting Gabriel and Amanda here today was no accident.

“Do you have kids?” I asked.

Brittany shrugged proudly, settling closer into Josh’s embrace. “Newly married. We’re actually enjoying our lives before kids tie us down.”

“Then what the fuck do you know about raising children?”

“Okay, woah, hang on,” Gabriel stepped in smoothly, he faced me so his frame was shielding me from the sheer shock plastered across their faces as both women glared daggers at me.

“Rachael, that was completely uncalled for.”

“And you bringing her here is?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“Raquel, do you even have a partner for the tournament?” Amanda chirped, slipping beside Gabriel to blink at me.

“It’s Rachael,” Gabriel corrected, before turning his focus back to me. “I saw John with you earlier. Did he bail?”

“Mandy, we need to go sign up! Are you coming?” Brittany called out from behind Gabe.

“Coming!” Amanda sang out. I watched her curl her arm around Gabriel’s. “Let’s go.”

“You can go sign up for us. I'll meet you there in a minute,” Gabriel said, but she didn’t budge, only turning her gaze to me now like I was the cause of something. “I just want to check in on Leah.”

A freakishly wide smile suddenly spread across her face. “I miss that little bundle of sunshine so much! I was actually expecting her to visit this weekend. Too bad she didn’t come.”

“Uh huh,” I replied flatly.

Amanda pursed her lips, her eyes darting between Gabriel and me before she finally turned and walked off.

“Leah is at a playdate with Mrs. Wilson’s granddaughter,” I told Gabriel, swinging both racket frames over my shoulder. I pretended I didn’t notice the way his biceps strained against the fabric of his polo shirt. “And Mrs. Wilson is supervising- not that it’s any of your business-”

“You weren’t going to tell me your ex returned to the city?” he cut in, his jaw tightening.

I raised both brows, tilting my head. “Which one?”

I got the exact reaction I wanted out of him, agitation flashing in his eyes as he said between gritted teeth: “Michael.”

I ignored the way my chest tightened.

Wait, did he think I knew. Then I remembered dropping Michael's name the night before in the heat of the moment.

“What happened? Did he text you?”

“Even better. He walked straight into my office today.”

I glanced past his broad shoulder, spotting John waving at me. He had changed into a crisp white athletic polo and matching shorts, his ash-blonde hair pulled back into a neat, high ponytail.

Half-distracted, I turned back to Gabriel. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“You don't even want to know what we discussed?”

“Unlike you, I actually have a tournament to win,” I scoffed, tossing my head. “You know... because I’ve played competitively for years, and I didn’t drag my new fiancée here just to stand around and ogle my ex.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. He casually shifted his stance, physically barring my path just as John stepped out of earshot. “You’re awfully cocky today, aren’t you?”

“It’s not news to either of us. I’ve been playing on these courts for years. I would have gone pro if I didn’t love writing novels more.”

“And for a lot of those years, I’ve been driving you here, watching you play and playing with you sometimes,” Gabriel murmured, stepping closer.

“You think I don't have any teeth of my own in this game?”

I raised an eyebrow, shifting the rackets to my other hand. “You’re a mid-tier player at best, Gabe. And your little fiancée over there looks like she couldn’t even differentiate between a tennis racket and a snowshoe. I think my odds are just fine.”

A gleam sparked in his eyes. “Let’s make it interesting, then.”

I let out a snort, ignoring the way my heart raced.

“What’s more interesting than an infinite supply of vodka milkshakes?”

“If I win,” he said, his voice dropping low, staring straight into my eyes without blinking. “We kiss again.”

I pursed my lips, my heart racing even faster. “You think we’re still in fucking high school?”

“It’s what I want,” he said softly.

I held his gaze for one long, suffocating second.

“And if I win,” I sneer, tilting my chin up. “Which I obviously will, because I never lose... I never want to see you or her step foot in this club again. Go find your own court since you’re suddenly such big tennis fans.”

Gabriel bit his lower lip, a fond smile in his eyes as he looked at me. “Deal.”

“Deal,” I echoed, before brushing past his shoulder, desperately trying to steady my racing pulse.

Minutes later, John joined me in the shaded pavilion where participants sat between matches. The courts were buzzing with chatter.

“I thought Gabe came here with that raven-haired girl, Amanda, right?” John asked, handing me a bottle of water.

“Yeah, why?” I muttered, trying and failing not to look at seats a few steps below us. Amanda was fussing over the cuffs of Gabriel’s polo shirt while he sat there, letting her roll them over his arms.

Half the women in the pavilion were staring at him like he was a five-star meal. I briefly considered whether regurgitating my breakfast sandwich to hurl at them was too dramatic. I didn't care if it was.

“Well,” John said, on his phone. “While I was at the registration desk signing us up for the tournament bracket... I saw the pairings.”

“And?”

“Amanda paired up with that guy, Josh.” John pointed a finger down at the courts.

My stomach plummeted straight to the soles of my shoes.

“And Gabe,” John finished, blinking up at me, “is paired with Brittany.”

Oh. Fuck me.