Page 22 of Pick Me

Owen beamed at me as he walked over, letting Marti drag him to me. “I’ve been here long enough to see you obliterate that

last game! Holy shit, you cooked out there.”

I wasn’t sure how things would feel with Owen post-make-out, but my shockingly good performance on the court was a great redirect.

I knelt down to pet a very excited Marti, who rolled onto her back for belly rubs.

“Yes, she did,” Howard answered for me on his way by. “You’re the coach, I presume?”

“I am.” He reached out his hand. “Owen.”

“Howard Daley.” He squinted at Owen. “Have we met before?”

He was bucket hatted and in his usual T-shirt and elastic waist shorts, which I’d figured out was his pickleball persona.

If Howard knew him, it had to be from that environment.

Owen shrugged. “I teach over at Chelsea Pickleball Academy?”

“Hmm.” Howard frowned. “Never been there, but you look very familiar to me.”

“I have one of those faces, I guess.” Owen grinned at him.

But he didn’t actually. To me, Owen was one of a kind. Sure, on paper he was just an everyday cute guy who camouflaged his attractiveness in sloppy clothes, but the wattage of his smile and warmth in his eyes made you feel seen .

“And who’s this?” Howard asked, pointing at Marti.

“Miss Martina Dogratilova,” Owen said proudly.

“Ah, tennis! Maybe that’s where I know you from?” Howard said. “I used to play quite a bit before the old bones started giving

out. Hence my new obsession.” He held up his paddle.

Owen nodded. “I played tennis in college, but it’s been a long time.”

He shifted, and I could tell he was getting uncomfortable with the light interrogation.

Howard turned to me. “Brooke, please come back. Like I said, I’m here all the time.” He leaned closer to me and glanced toward

where Team Tan was packing up. “But they’re not.”

I laughed. “Got it. Thanks for the invitation. I’d love to.”

We waved our goodbyes, and Owen, Marti, and I set off together.

“Why were you late?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound accusatory. “I was sort of counting on you being here.”

The corner of Owen’s mouth curled up. “Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“I wanted you to do this on your own, without your crutch.”

I paused. “Hold on, you no-showed on purpose?”

He spread his hands in front of him. “I’m right here; I didn’t no-show. I was just a little late.”

Everything started to fall into place. “Oh my god, that’s why you brought Marti with you. You don’t have your paddle, and

you’re wearing slides and socks. You never intended to play with me.”

“Bingo.”

“But... you’re my coach,” I sputtered, spinning my hands in the air.

“And good coaches give their athletes wings,” he replied.

I smiled involuntarily at being called an athlete even though I didn’t like where the conversation was headed.

Owen paused and turned to me. “I wanted to show you that you’re basically where you need to be. You played on your own today

and killed it. I think you’re ready to fly solo.”

My mouth dropped open. Was Owen firing me?

“Hold on a sec. You want me to sign up for that tournament thing—”

“Only if you want to,” he interrupted. “I said I think it’s worthwhile to have another goal besides... Kai.”

“Okay, so I agree. I want to sign up.”

My stomach roiled at the thought of it, but in the moment, it felt like the only way I could get Owen to keep working with

me. I knew we’d have to part ways eventually, but not now . Our mornings together were one of the few times I could stop stressing about my life and just focus on the joy of the moment.

“Seriously?” Owen asked. “You want to do the tournament?”

I nodded my head vigorously to convince both of us that it was true.

We set off down the sidewalk again while Marti scanned the pee mail. “That changes things. If you want to compete, then we

definitely need to polish you up a bit. I mean, you were fucking amazing out there, but I saw a few snags. Little tweaks we

could work on.”

“Exactly,” I agreed quickly. “Are you okay to keep things the way they’ve been?”

Working with Owen had become an important part of my week, despite the fact that it always took me a couple of hours before I could stop thinking about my technique and focus on writing. Or ghostwriting , because my archer story was now a faucet I couldn’t turn off.

“Yeah, meeting with you in the morning before we open is fine. I basically live at CPA anyway.”

Based on the little I’d learned about Owen, it tracked. I couldn’t resist prying.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

He paused to let Marti squat. “It’s walking distance from the club. I have the perfect commute.”

He didn’t even give up the cross streets. The dude was Fort Knox. Or an undercover spy.

“So Chelsea?” I pushed.

“Basically. Anyway, let’s talk schedule since we have limited hours for the holiday weekend, and we’re closed on the Fourth,”

he added. “I could still meet you if you want to come in, though.”

I frowned. “No, I’ll be in the Hamptons for the weekend. Meredith forced me into it.”

Which wasn’t entirely true.

“Nice.” Owen nodded and encouraged Marti to move on from a pile someone had neglected to clean up. “I got a couple of invitations

to head out there. Lots of CPA members go, but I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“There’s a chance Kai is going to the party we’re invited to,” I blurted out. It felt weird bringing him up in the moment

even though Kai was the reason for everything we were doing together.

I saw Owen’s jaw flex.

“Wow, so maybe this whole scheme was pointless?” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “If you guys run in the same circles, you don’t actually need a pickleball connection.”

It really felt like he was trying to cut me loose in the gentlest possible way. “Owen, no, not at all. I mean, sure, that

was my initial reason to start playing, but I’ve grown to love it.” I forced myself to keep talking, because he needed to

know what he’d done for me. “You sort of rerouted my synapses. You made me like a sport . My brother’s going to pass out when he visits.”

“Your brother is coming here?”

“Yeah, an overnight visit,” I replied quickly, not wanting to get derailed before I made my point. “Anyway, I owe you. For

taking me on as a student, driving me to New Jersey to get thrown off a horse, and for forcing me to do that.” I pointed over

my shoulder to the courts behind us. “For all of it. You’re an amazing teacher and coach.”

He smiled but only with his mouth. The rest of his expression was wary. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

We both watched Marti do her thing, marking every raised surface like she owned the entire city. I thought about my time with

Owen, how he’d changed me, and an idea started to take shape.

“Hold on. You should write a book . About coaching,” I said excitedly. “I could be your beta reader, since I have insights into how it feels to be your student.”

“A book?” Owen tilted his head. “For who?”

I squinted into the distance as I considered it. “Depends on your message. If you want a big audience, you could adapt your

content to business. Like, ‘Everything I learned about human connections was forged across a net.’”

He chuckled. “A bit clunky, but I get what you mean.”

“No, better idea; you could make it for salespeople ! Relationship -selling stuff. That’s a huge audience. You could tie it in with speaking engagements,” I said, getting ahead of myself as usual. “What’s your social media like? Publishers love nonfiction writers with huge platforms.”

Owen snorted. “Do I look like I use social media?”

“Point taken. That’ll be an issue, but you can set one up when you go out on submission. I can help you with that. My agent

doesn’t rep nonfiction, but I can see if she has a suggestion for you. The first step is putting together a thorough outline,

which I wish I could help you with but I do not use an outline. To my eternal frustration.”

“Yeah, how’s writing going for you?”

I shook my head at him. “We’re not talking about me for a change, but to put it briefly, it’s shitty. I mean, my sidepiece

book is going amazing, but Austin is treading water.”

Literally. I’d left off in a chapter where he was skinny-dipping in a pond on his property and Abby was supposed to catch

him there.

“Hold on, what sidepiece book? You’re writing two at once?”

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t mentioned The Archer’s Paradox to him. Since he was a fantasy reader, it probably was the sort of thing he’d enjoy. And he’d liked Rogue Cowboy , so I knew he could appreciate my writing style.

“I am,” I replied. “A new genre for me. Romantasy.”

His mouth went into an upside-down U shape as he considered it. “Okay. That tracks.”

I turned to gape at him. “Seriously? You really think so?”

“Sure. You do a great job with tone and setting, which are important in fantasy. And the villain in Rogue was evil but still redeemable, which is important if your love interest is a bad guy turned good.”

“How did you know?” I asked, then waved my hand in the air and shook my head. “No, stop. This isn’t about my book.”

“ Books ,” he corrected.

“Whatever. You are going to write a fabulous, self-helpy book, right?”

“I’ve never considered it until this very minute.”

“Well, get on that, because it’s a brilliant idea, and you have a willing partner to help you along the way.” I paused. “Just

like you did for me. Which is why you need to write the book. Because you help people uncover their inner greatness.”

“Wow, and here I thought I was just teaching dinks and drops.” We paused at a busy intersection. “Where are you headed?”

I glanced around to see where we’d ended up. “Uh, honestly, I was just walking with you two.” I bent over to pet Marti. “I

need to get to work.”

“Yes, you do. Good luck with both books, and I guess we’ll talk after the holiday?”

“Definitely.” I started backing away from the pair. “Have a great Fourth.”

“Safe travels. People get crazy, so be careful.” Owen’s dark eyes were locked on me like I was leaving for good. “Hope you

and Kai get a chance to connect, but if not, I’ve got you.”

Even though I had Kai in my sight lines, I sure liked the way “I’ve got you” sounded coming out of Owen’s mouth.