Page 25 of Pick Me

“Oh, hey ! I heard you might be here.” I jumped up, throwing my arms around him uninvited thanks to my fizzy, alcohol-fueled mood.

Owen circled his arms around me slowly, like I’d forced him into touching me. He squeezed me briefly, and I let go the moment

I felt him loosen his grip. But not before I was wrapped in a mist of his warm scent, which triggered memories of the last

time I’d been that close to him.

Which wasn’t something I needed to be thinking about two drinks in with Kai in my crosshairs.

“Nice dress,” he said.

My stomach dipped at the approval in his voice.

I looked him up and down and realized that I was meeting yet another version of Owen as well, one that understood the unspoken

Hamptons dress code. He was in a red gingham button-down, dark shorts, and spotless white sneakers, looking just as coastal

preppy cool as the rest of the finance bros. His hair was even a little more slicked down than usual.

“Thanks. And you’re hat-free.” I pointed to his head. “I’m getting spoiled seeing all of your face.”

“The Big Gripper hat is my security blanket at the club,” he said, confirming what I already suspected. “Anyway, did I just see the man of the hour trotting away with his pack?”

I couldn’t hide my smile. “Yeah. We did a shot together.”

I caught a brief frown before he rearranged his expression to his usual Owen placidness.

“Well, okay, that’s fantastic,” he replied. “Did you make plans to play?”

I cocked my head. “Sort of? I actually brought it up, but then he got pulled away to go Jet Skiing. Which... bad idea in the dark?”

Owen frowned hard. “I sure wouldn’t.”

“Should we wander down to supervise?”

He regarded me for a minute, and I worried that he’d say no for some reason.

“Yeah, but let’s grab drinks first. What can I bring you?”

I could already feel the effects of the shotgunned alcohol, but I wasn’t ready to quit drinking for the night.

“It’s a celebration, so how about prosecco?”

He bobbed his head. “Got it. Wait here.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, because of course my dress had pockets. No surprise, it was Meredith, asking where I was. We

were pros at navigating social scenarios solo, then joining up again when the time was right. Meredith called it “doing laps.”

By the hydrangea bar. You okay?

Perfect. Do you need me?

Nope. Had a successful Kai moment and I just ran into Owen, all good.

He handed me an overfull glass before I could text her back.

“Are you having fun?” Owen asked as we headed for the beach.

I fell in step next to him. The lights and noise faded behind us, and fireflies lit the way as the grass turned to sand.

“We sort of just got here, but yeah. I guess.”

“Oh, come on, you made the Kai connection. I figured you’d be over the moon.”

I loved that he used the same expression as my dad to describe happiness.

“I’m still in shock that it happened.”

“I’m not. Why wouldn’t he chat up someone like you?”

“Because I’m not a 4.0 pickleball player.” I laughed, bumping my shoulder against his. “You told me yourself that’s his criteria.”

“Revisionist history.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I never said that was his criteria for hanging out with someone. You told me

you wanted to play with him. Remember?”

“Fine.” I sighed. “You’re right, I did.”

“And now you’re ready.” Owen paused. “Ish.”

We both went silent as we considered what that meant.

“No sign of the death wish crew.” I gestured down at the empty docks. “I guess someone talked some sense into them?”

“Or they couldn’t find the keys.” He snorted softly.

“Wanna walk all the way down? It’s pretty out here.”

Owen glanced back toward the chaos of the party. “Definitely.”

I felt my shoulders unfurl once we hit the end of the dock. The bay breeze did its thing, sending a wave of goose bumps up

my arms even though the night was warm. Based on the sounds echoing from various parts along the shoreline, we weren’t the

only ones celebrating.

“Let’s sit for a minute,” I suggested.

“Okay, but not for too long. You need to seal the deal tonight.”

Owen seemed even more preoccupied than usual with my connection to Kai.

We both lowered ourselves to the edge of the dock, letting our legs dangle off the edge. I took a sip of prosecco, and when

my head went that much woozier, I finally figured out that I needed to slow down.

“Sealing the deal will be much easier now that Jet Skiing is off the table,” I said. “ How did they think they were going to manage it?”

“ Psh , it probably would’ve been fine.” Owen swiped his hand through the air. “Bad things don’t happen to people like Kai.”

There was an edge to his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, right, you barely know him.” Owen took a sip of Wave Chaser IPA, then looked over at me. “Kai lives his life on easy

mode.”

It was the first time I’d heard Owen say anything less than positive about Kai.

“Seriously?”

Owen nodded as he took another swig from the can. “Can’t you tell? He’s got that charmed-life vibe.”

It almost sounded like Owen was jealous.

My eyes had adjusted to the inky-black darkness, so I could pick up on his drawn expression. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth downturned.

“Is that a bad thing?”

My heart thumped as I waited for him to answer. Had I been chasing down a faulty muse this whole time?

“No.” He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s a good thing. He’s lucky. He was born under sunny skies. Unfortunately, that’s not everyone’s experience.” Another long sip from

the can. “It definitely wasn’t mine.”

He put it out there, so it was totally fine for me to push a little. “What do you mean?”

“Winning is in his bloodline. Kai went to Yale. So did his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. Kai graduated

and went to work for the investing firm his dad founded. From what I can tell, he’s never known struggle.” Owen paused and

the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Okay, maybe I make him struggle on the court, but that’s not a real-life challenge.”

“Well,” I began, “you can’t know the entirety of a person based on a few pickleball lessons.”

“We’ve been working together for a while.” He shrugged as he finished off the beer. “You’d be surprised how much I can figure

out during lessons. Obviously, I can read my clients’ physical abilities, but there’s more. Does he respect my time? How does

he respond to corrections? Does he get angry when he makes a mistake, or is he more frustrated? Does he have fun while he’s

playing? Is he able to put my constructive criticism to work? Does he gloat when he wins or pout when he loses? Coaching gives

me a snapshot of the best and worst of a person, so even though I don’t know the entirety of my clients, I sure get a good sense of them.”

“So is he... a dick?” I asked tentatively.

“Nope.” Owen shook his head as he stared out into the black water. “Not a dick at all. He’s just... simple. And I’m not

saying that he’s not intelligent or anything. I mean, simple like... he doesn’t have the nooks and crannies that make up

a real, lived life. He’s smooth, like marble.”

“Well, marble is beautiful and strong,” I offered, feeling a little bad that Owen was dismissing Kai.

“And expensive and easily stained. It needs lots of special care, like sealing.”

“So if Kai is marble, what are you?” I asked.

“Me?” Owen chuckled and looked down at the can in his hands. “I’d say I’m... a brick.”

I barked out a laugh.

“It’s true.” He shrugged. “Bricks are ubiquitous. You’d never pick up a brick and think, ‘Yup, gorgeous.’ But you know that

a brick gets the job done.”

I leaned away and squinted at him. “I’m sorry, did you just call yourself a basic brick?”

He shrugged again. “Sure. And I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Bricks are rough and scratchy,” I said.

“Still works for my background.”

I polished off my prosecco. “Do tell.”

“On paper, it looks great,” he said slowly. “Went to Princeton, played tennis. What most people don’t know is that I was the

first person in my family to go to college, so yay for an Ivy, but my folks would’ve been just as proud if I’d graduated from

a community college.

“My dad was a mechanic and my mom was a hairdresser,” he continued. “They worked . They sacrificed for me. The only reason I got into tennis as a kid was my dad. His specialty was classic cars, and one of

his regular customers had an old Corvette. Turns out he was the tennis pro at a local golf club, so my dad convinced him to

trade lessons for me for repairs. And I guess I had a knack.”

“He was your first coach?”

Owen nodded. “Yeah. I got so lucky with Scott. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be where I am.”

“Where exactly is that?” I asked before I realized that it was a loaded question. But I wanted to know how Owen went from

Princeton athlete to pickleball instructor, with a detour for cheesemongering.

“It’s... well, for now it’s where I need to be,” he said in a way that didn’t invite more prying.

“And does that place include a book?”

He let out a soft snort. “You’re relentless.”

“I’m serious! And I think you like the idea, deep down.”

He leaned against a post beside him and stared at me for a beat, a little cliff-hanger. “I do.”

“Let’s go !” I cheered and pumped my fist. “I knew it! This is perfect; now the student is the master.”

“Excuse me?”

“You coached me—now it’s my turn to do it for you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

I slammed my prosecco glass down on the dock beside me. “You have done so much to help me on my pickleball journey; the least I can do is support you as you try something new that I happen to know

a thing or two about.”

“That’s the issue here; I don’t try. I do ,” he said, refocusing on the navy horizon. “Once I start something, failure isn’t an option.”

It sounded more like conviction than bragging.

“That’s the best attitude because publishing will break you if you let it.”

He glanced over at me. “Are you broken?”

My heart expanded at the concern in his voice.

“A little . . . yeah. My debut novel didn’t get picked up, and that hurt like hell. Total crisis of confidence, hence the ghostwriting.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you don’t publish under your own name. Will that change?”

I smiled involuntarily at the thought of Archer . “I’m working on it.”

“Good. You deserve to have your name on the cover.”

I could tell that the conversation was about to shift to my muse hunt, and I didn’t want to discuss Kai with him anymore.

I glanced over my shoulder at the party raging on behind us. “I heard the fireworks show is going to be ridiculous. Colton

said they shipped a bunch over from Italy.”

“Yeah, it’s going to sound like a battle zone soon. Glad Marti’s back in the city with her dog walker; she hates noise.”

“Same, Marti, same,” I agreed. I sighed and looked back at the crowd. “I should probably get back there. I’m feeling antisocial.”

I slid my phone out of my pocket to check the time and placed it on the dock beside me.

“Yeah, Calliope awaits,” Owen said.

We shared a moment of silence, because once we walked back, we’d get swept up into the madness, and there was a good chance

we wouldn’t connect again.

Which bummed me out a little.

I leaned over to grab my prosecco flute but misjudged the distance, accidentally knocking it off the dock and into the water

with the world’s tiniest splash.

“Well, shit!”

I switched to my knees and leaned off the dock to try to grab it.

“Leave it,” Owen said. “I’m sure no one will miss it.”

“But it’s right there,” I said. I gripped the post next to me and stretched out my arm to where the glass was still bobbing along the surface.

“Brooke, seriously, it’s a catering glass that probably cost—”

I didn’t hear his estimate as I fell headfirst into the bay.