“Bad news?”

“Zelda,” Piper replies. “We’ve been summoned to the club.”

“More iced tea?” I ask, bracing myself for small-talk and socialites.

“Not exactly….” Dash gives me a mischievous grin that I know spells trouble. “How’s your tennis game?”

Thirty minutes later, I emerge from a lavender-scented dressing room wearing a flirty little tennis skirt and sleeveless polo that I’ve borrowed from Piper. “You look great,” she reassures me.

“I look like I just stepped out of a Wes Anderson movie,” I say, looking around the immaculate club.

Dash is waiting by the court in spotless tennis whites.

“Antiquing… Tennis… Charity galas,” I tell him, “Are we playing rich person bingo? What’s next, a little jaunt on your yacht?”

“If you play your cards right.” Dash winks, pulling me into his arms. His body is warm against me, and his hands trail lightly over my bare shoulders before tilting my face up for a kiss.

A totally pretend, not at all genuine, knee-weakening kiss.

Flustered, I jerk back—in time to see Zelda approaching, with…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan under my breath. But of course, it’s Georgia, trim in a tiny tennis dress, revealing miles of tanned golden limbs.

“Well hi there!” she coos, reaching us. “Isn’t this fun? We can play a game of doubles.”

“What about Zelda?” I ask. “We can’t leave you out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Zelda says.

“She never actually plays,” Piper explains. “She just likes to cheer us on.”

“I’ll be over here, keeping score.” Zelda goes to settle in the shade, leaving me no escape.

“You do play, don’t you, Callie?” Georgia adds, turning to me.

“You hit the ball over the net, right?” I ask.

She giggles. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Dash and I move to the far end of the court. “Just a word of warning,” he says, passing me a raquet. “Georgia likes to win.”

“Good.” I smile. “So do I.”

“Callie!” she calls. “Why don’t you serve first?”

“Sure thing!” I yell back.

I grab a ball, bounce it a couple of times… And then slam it across the net straight at her.

Georgia yelps in surprise and dives out of the way.

“Ace!” Piper calls, impressed. “Great serve, Callie.”

“Yeah, great serve.” Dash gives me a curious smirk as we switch sides. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

I shrug. “Oh, here and there.”

I grin. I might not have grown up playing on fancy courts like this, but we did have a tennis league at the rec center near my house. Sure, the nets sagged a little, and most people played in baggy athletic shorts and ratty old tank tops, but the rules of the game were almost certainly the same.

I line up for my second serve, bouncing the ball.

Whack!

This time, Georgia is prepared. She slams it back into the far corner. Dash makes a valiant reach, but it sails past.

“Fifteen all!” Georgia cries in victory.