Page 76 of Not That Into You

“You’re doing well.” He walks forward. “Meet me at the net for a second.”

As I get closer, he gestures to the area closest to the net. “This is the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?”

“The non-volley zone.”

“Okay. So no volleying in the kitchen.”

“Right.”

“Sounds like a good rule of thumb.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Right there”—he points to the line directly behind me—“is the non-volley line. It’s easier to play at the non-volley line than the baseline, where you have to use more power to get the ball over the net. You tend to win more points at the non-volley line.”

“Play at the non-volley line. Got it.”

“Let’s try hitting the ball back and forth.”

After a few rounds, Cameron hits the ball, so it bounces into the non-volley zone. “That’s called a dink.”

“A dink?”

“Yes, a dink.”

“You’re a dink. I don’t need to learn all the pickleball terminology. I just need to know how to hit the ball.”

He grins. “Fair enough.”

We hit the ball back and forth a few more times until he grabs the ball and places it on the ground with his paddle before walking around the net toward me. “Let me show you something.”

I smirk. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

“No need.” He wiggles his brows. “They’re usually begging for it.”

I shake my head. “I walked right into that.”

Grinning, he walks up behind me and wraps his hand around my grip on the paddle. “You just need to tweak your swing.”

Swallowing, I try to focus on what he’s saying rather than on how close he’s standing. He pulls my hand and paddle back and then guides me through a swing. “Follow the ball with your paddle rather than scooping it.”

My heart takes off at a gallop as my body begins to vibrate. I take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to get ahold of myself while damning his overactive pheromones for causing this ridiculous reaction.

“Now, you try,” he says, without releasing his grip.

I slowly swing the paddle back as he wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer. He drops his mouth closer to my ear. “Steady.”

Suppressing a shudder, I briefly close my eyes. If I didn’t have so much pride, I’d pull away from him and end this torture, but I’d rather drink hot sauce straight from the bottle than let him know how much he affects me. He’d never let me live it down.

Concentrating on my breathing, I swing the paddle forward.

“That’s it,” he rumbles.

As I let my arm drop, he releases his grip on my paddle, letting his hand fall to rest on my hip while his other arm remains wrapped around my waist. I hold myself still, wanting to run and stay in equal measure. His warm breath caresses my neck, and I shiver before closing my eyes and tilting my head, leaning into him.

“Good morning!”

Jumping apart, Cameron and I turn to face Vanessa, who either has perfect timing or is the devil incarnate.

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