Page 13 of Pick Me

“Dinking at the kitchen line,” I repeated back to Owen as we walked to our court. “Make it make sense.”

He chuckled. “I blame myself for taking so long to get to this part of the game because it’s a foundational skill. But then

again, our lessons have been unorthodox so far.”

Yeah, the therapy session and forced jogging at the last one were definitely not what I’d expected when Meredith signed me

up.

The first time I’d visited the Chelsea Pickleball Academy, I’d felt like everyone could tell I didn’t belong, as if my lack

of skills hovered around me like a cartoon cloud. But being there off-hours, with just Owen and Marti, drained the friction

from the place. I didn’t have to worry about witnesses; all I had to do was get better. Of course, that presented a different

sort of stress, but after the last session, I was feeling slightly more hopeful.

Unfortunately, the hat was back, which meant I’d have to really stare at him to try to decipher how he was feeling. It was

almost like the hat was an invisibility cloak to make him look less attractive.

Now that I’d seen him without it, I knew the truth.

“Not only is dinking a critical part of the game, it’s also Kai’s specialty,” Owen said. “If you want to impress him, you need to master this aspect.”

As if I didn’t already have enough pressure. Owen bringing up Kai refocused me on my mission. Life at the ranch was idling

while the clock wound down, meanwhile I couldn’t stop returning to Einar and Zandria.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

I forced myself not to say “no complaints so far,” and in the few seconds that I struggled to come up with a socially acceptable

response that didn’t reference oral sex, Owen must’ve assumed I didn’t know what he meant.

“Are you feeling open and optimistic?” he asked.

I couldn’t admit to him that he’d burrowed into my brain and uncovered a repressed memory as efficiently as a therapist. I

found myself revisiting my middle school memories on nights I couldn’t fall asleep and then dreaming about crowds of people

laughing at me.

“I’m going to do my best,” I replied. “Don’t forget I’m trying to rewrite some old scripts.” I tapped my temple.

He nodded as he rolled the ball from one side of his paddle to the other like it was magnetized to the thing. “Yup, that’s

exactly what you’re doing. But you’re aware of the ‘why’ now.”

“Thanks to you.”

Owen paused with the ball cemented to the center of his paddle and fixed his eyes on me. “I appreciate you saying that. After

our last lesson, I had a coaching hangover, like I’d pushed you too hard.”

“Listen, I put my art out into the world, and people do not hold back in their reviews. I’m resilient and open to feedback,” I replied.

He bounced the ball up and snatched it out of the air. “Good to hear.”

“Speaking of my art...”

I was both eager and not to get his thoughts on Rogue Cowboy .

“Nope, let’s wait till the end. We’ll get derailed and we have too much to accomplish today.” He pointed to the opposite side

of the court. “Get into ready position over there.”

I nodded and jogged over without doing any of the exaggerated bouncy stuff I normally did.

“Right up here.” Owen pointed to the white line along the strangely named “kitchen” portion of the court that bordered the

net on either side.

I moved closer to it.

“ Knees ,” he reminded me, all business.

The words “on your” flitted through my mind, and I wondered if Owen was bossy in all aspects of his life.

I dutifully bent my knees so I could be quicker to react and released the tension in my grip before he could correct that

as well.

“Dinking is all about control and finesse. Strategy too, but we’ll get to that later,” Owen explained. “Remember how we focused

on that push at our first lesson? We’re back at it today. I also want you to think about your wrist. No floppy stuff.” He

demonstrated by doing figure eights in the air with his paddle. “You’ll send the ball everywhere but where it needs to go

if your wrist isn’t solid.”

I nodded and tried not to hypergrip my paddle.

“I want you to swing from your shoulder, not flick your wrist.” He elegantly mimed the move, making it look simple enough

for me to do as well. “Light taps so the ball clears the net and bounces low. Make sense?”

It did in theory but I wasn’t sure how my body would translate it all. “Yup!”

“Aim for a compact swing, just like we were practicing at our first lesson. Like this.”

Owen dropped a ball and lobbed it over the net with an easy little shot. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to return it or not,

so I watched it bounce right next to me.

“Let’s go.”

I nodded and moved into ready position, trying to ignore the nerves buzzing inside of me.

Owen straightened up, frowning at me. “Hey, we’re having fun, remember?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look so tense,” he said gently as he took a few steps closer to the net. “It’s okay, Brooke. We had a breakthrough last time; now

you’ve got your head on right and you’re going to be great.”

I nodded and shook my hands off to try to drain some of the tension. “I’m feeling the pressure.”

“Don’t overthink. Just dink.”

“The terminology is really goofy—you have to admit it.” I laughed.

He narrowed his eyes and pointed his paddle at me, trying to hide a smile. “Don’t blaspheme my sport, got it?”

I saluted him. “Yes, Coach!”

We both dropped into position at the same time, Owen dinked, and the next thing I knew my paddle connected with the ball and

sent it right back to him.

“Yay,” I cheered.

“Stay focused; let’s keep this volley going,” he said as he tapped the ball back to me.

I was ready the second it landed. I tried to remember all the various body parts that I needed to move in tandem and sent it back to Owen.

“Nice.”

I lapped up his praise.

We continued the back-and-forth for way longer than I thought was possible. I felt a little more confident with each successful

shot.

“There she is,” Owen cheered as I managed to switch from forehand to backhand. “Kai’s going to be so impressed.”

It was the second time he’d mentioned Kai, like he was trying to remind himself why he was wasting his time with me. Kai was the goal we were working toward.

The rest of the session passed in a happy blur of me doing solidly okay to decent, with a couple moments of darn good.

“Thanks for going a little long today,” I said, nodding across the courts to where the staff was shuffling in. I grabbed my

water and took a drink.

“You were having fun.” Owen grinned at me. “I wasn’t about to interrupt that.”

“I hope I wasn’t the only one enjoying it.”

“Oh, I absolutely was.” He nodded. “I love seeing a player blossom.”

He thought that I was blossoming ?

We paused at the edge of the courts, before we got to the front desk area where staff was congregating.

“I think you’re going to make fast progress from this point on. Maybe we should arrange a Kai run-in when he’s here for a

lesson with me? I mean, there’s a book on the line, and you need your inspo. Or your muse or whatever he is to your writing.”

Third mention.

He pulled his hat off to wipe his brow, and I had to process the fact that I’d actually made Owen sweat during our session.

“That’s right—I still need your feedback on Rogue !” I slapped my paddle on my thigh. “I’ve been dying to hear what you have to say.” I paused and shot him a suspicious look.

“I think.”

He laughed, complete with crinkly eyes. “Right, okay. It’s not bad, I promise. So I really loved the book. The tension between

Trent and Eliza was palpable in those early scenes.”

My heart sank preemptively. “I’m waiting for the ‘but’...”

He shook his head. “There’s no ‘but.’ I told you, I have a weird idea that might help you. I’m no Kai clearly”—he gestured

down his body—“but I think it could provide inspiration.”

Fourth mention.

Owen paused and seemed to gather himself before continuing.

“Horses are a big part of what you write, correct?”

I tilted my head. “Well, if the outline calls for it, yeah. I’ve written a couple where horses were barely mentioned.”

“How about the one you’re currently working on?”

I grimaced. “If I could actually write it, yes, there will be horses.”

He bobbed his head. “Perfect. One thing I noticed was that there’s a beautiful missed opportunity with the husbandry aspect

of owning a horse. The Rogue cowboys throw on the saddle, hop on, and off they go. But that’s not how it works, if they truly care about the animal.”

“Oh, they definitely care,” I said quickly, as if I was talking about real people.

“Of course they do. Which means they need to take their time with grooming before they ride. It’s an important step be cause it allows the rider to assess the horse’s health, plus it helps with bonding.

And from a story perspective, well, if you’ve got a city girl who don’t know nuthin’ ’bout horses”—he slipped into a drawl—“it’s a great opportunity for your cowboy and his lady to bond as well.

He can show her how to do it and explain all the cool nuances of it. ”

I loved that he read my book closely enough to identify a theme and offer a way to make it even better.

“That’s a perfect idea, thank you.” I smiled at him. “I wasn’t a horse girl growing up, so I’m missing that DNA strand. There’s

obviously a lot I don’t know about horses, but I can do research online—”

Owen shook his head. “No, I have a better idea. Why don’t we go on a field trip and I can show you how it’s done?”

The offer didn’t compute at first so I just stared at him.

“I spent some time working on a horse farm,” he explained quickly. “I know my way around a barn. It’s in Jersey, about an

hour and a half away.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He sighed sheepishly. “Long story involving one of those horse girls.”

“No, I mean you’d seriously do that for me?”

Owen looked like he didn’t understand my question. “Well... yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because it was above and beyond what he was contracted to do. Because it meant investing at least four hours with me, alone.

Because it required leaving the city.

“It’s just so nice of you.”

He chuckled and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Is that out of character? Me being nice?”

“No, not at all!” I sputtered. “I mean it’s, like, generous with your time. You’re busy.” I gestured to where members were filing in. “It’s a half-day commitment at least. Do you even have a car?”

“I have a car,” he replied. “And you’re busy too, but I think it would be worth it. It gives me an excuse to go back and visit

old friends, and hopefully you’d get a ton of ideas. I know I’m not at official muse status, but maybe I could be a lesser

one? Kai is your Kalliope and I can be your... I don’t know, Melete, maybe?”

“Hold on, you know the muses ?”

He looked a little sheepish. “I’m a big fantasy reader, so yeah.”

“Calliope is the muse of...” I paused because I wasn’t sure what exactly he thought Kai represented to me.

“Epic poetry, so books basically,” Owen replied. “And Melete represents... take a guess.”

“Epic fails on the pickleball court?”

He smirked. “Would you stop? No, Melete is the muse of practice .”

I loved that Owen granted himself muse status.

“Totally works.” I nodded. “Yeah, you’re definitely my Melete.”

We stared at each other for a beat, a little sweaty, tired, and content.

“And I would love to go on a field trip to meet some horses. Thanks for suggesting it.”

Owen started backing away from me. “Okay, I’ll reach out to the barn rats for some possible dates and times and then text

you. More to come.”

I watched him walk away, then pause and turn back to me. “You did great today. Really impressive improvement.”

I beamed at him. “Thanks, Coach.”

I walked out of the Chelsea Pickleball Academy feeling way luckier than usual.