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She headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The baby blue tile wasn’t what she had envisioned for her ideal bathroom but it was strangely calming. Turning the shower on, Mac slowly stripped off her clothes.

With each movement, she winced. She’d never played that hard in her life and her body was still in recovery mode. She lifted her arm over her head, taking a look at the yellowish bruise under her arm from a slide during the fourth round. It was nearly gone, but the flesh was still just as tender.

The room started to fill with steam, Mac’s signal to hop in. Babs refused to let Mac shower in hot water after a training session, insisting that a cold plunge would really be ideal.

But with Wimbledon just about a month away, Mac could shower in whatever fucking temperature she wanted. She’d just made more money than she ever had in her life.

She stepped into the tub, greeted by the splatter of near boiling water. A moan escaped her lips as she felt the warmth on her skin. As she stood under the water, Mac let her head lower. Each trickle down her back made her spine tingle.

But as her eyes closed, she couldn’t stop herself from seeing Taylor’s crystal clear eyes. Even from across the court, they were stunning. It was almost enough to make Mac throw down her racket and just stare.

Mac washed her body, slowly as the exhaustion set in.So that’s why Babs wants me to take a cold shower, hot showers put me to sleep.

Shaking her head, Mac finished off her shower, grabbed her towel, and dried off. She wrapped the towel around her waist asshe combed her hair and put it up in a tight bun. The undercut was due for a fresh trim, getting longer than Mac preferred it.

She walked down the hallway to her room. Music played from the living room as Jazz and Beatriz started their morning workouts.

With her door closed, Mac scanned her closet for something nice enough for a fitting. The last thing she wanted to wear was workout clothes. All Mac had felt on her skin for the past two weeks was overly smooth nylon.

She settled on a worn out pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt that she tucked into the front of the pants. At the very least, it was on trend. Mac checked her mirror, satisfied with her picks before heading to the living room.

Just as Mac was about to walk out the door, Babs texted her:

On my way. You better not be late.

Mac rolled her eyes. It was easy for her to say. Babs lived off Fifth Avenue in a skyrise that was close to the flagship store of every single sporting goods company in the city. Nonetheless, Astoria was a quick 20 minute subway to Midtown.

A short commute later and Mac was strolling up to the storefront, digging her hands into her pocket. She threw open the door and was greeted by Babs, Tommy, and a fleet of company representatives.

“Miss. Bennett, congratulations on your placement. We’re so excited to get you started with a custom racket.” A woman in ajumpsuit stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Anne, the lead marketing rep for this humble company.”

Mac nodded and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. And thanks for having me.”

As the crowd moved into the store, Babs yanked on Mac’s sleeve, pulling her in for a whisper. “Don’t freak out. Taylor’s here with Kim.”

Mac felt her eyes widen, looking down at the floor to avoid anyone noticing. “What do you mean?”

“We got double booked.” Babs grumbled.

Hearing whispers, Tommy dropped back to the two of them and placed her hand on Mac’s back. “Oh yeah, hope that’s okay. They could only close the store down for so many hours so they pushed us together.”

Mac nodded, trying to play it cool. And clearly failing.

“What’s going on here?” Tommy asked, sensing a vibe change. It wasn’t until Mac and Babs glared at her that it clicked. “Oh fuck. Seriously? When?”

“A million years ago. But it was bad.” Mac gritted her teeth.

With a sigh, Tommy stretched her neck. “We’ll talk. In the future, I need to know about these things. The only way I can help you is if I know what’s coming.”

Before they could discuss more, the team set them up at a bench at the center of the store. Anne gestured for Mac to sit. As she did and her eyes lifted, Mac was greeted by the icy eyes of Taylor Young.

Towering above her, with her arms crossed and jaw clenched, was Kimberly Young. Mac had met those vicious eyes before. But the last time, they were filled with shock and rage too.

Before the stare-off could last any longer, a sales representative appeared before Mac with a selection of rackets. The sales rep, Margaret, smiled at Mac. “Miss Bennett, we’ve spent quite a bit of time watching your games and analyzing howyou play. From our research, these rackets are what suit your style best. But if none of them feel right, we have an even wider selection for you.”

Babs’s forehead wrinkled. “And what exactly is her play style, in your opinion?”

Margaret swallowed. “Well, Ms. McConnell, we see Mackenzie as a warrior. She isn’t there to be delicate or spare any feelings. But there’s also a love of the game itself as well.”