Page 38 of Tamed to Be Messy

Hannah

Ithrow the kitchen towel onto the counter next to the stack of wet dishes my brothers abandoned me with. They’ve already started a round of badminton without me, the dirty rats. But since Nick’s here, we could play some rounds of doubles if he’s not too aggressive with his swing.

I leave the rest of the plates to dry themselves and step out onto the porch. Seeing Nick in conversation with my mother brings a warm sensation down my neck and through my shoulders, reminiscent of a cozy day curled up on the couch with a book during a rainstorm.

The romantic in me imagines for a moment what it would be like if this were Nick’s and my normal routine, to join my family for Saturday breakfast and some rounds of badminton before we headed back home to our place. Maybe we’d spend the rest of the afternoon snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

I shoo the mental image away and step outside. “Hey Nick, why don’t you try playing a round or two?”

He looks up at me, squinting against the sun. The light illuminates his irises, highlighting the blue in his eyes in greater detail. “If you think it’s okay.”

“Give it a whirl. If you start to feel any discomfort, stop.”

My mother grins and points at me. “You heard the doctor.”

“Mom, I’m not a doctor.”

She frowns at me, but I don’t miss the teasing glint in her gaze. “You had almost two years of vet school. That’s close enough in my book.”

I snort. “Whatever.”

Nick pops up from his seat and walks next to me. “You sure I can handle this?”

We stop by the net right as Graham slams the birdie over. “Just don’t play like that. Take it nice and slow, or I’ll take your racquet away.”

He grins and takes the racquet I hold out to him. “Yeah, I might want to see you do that.”

I cock my head to the side and lift my brows. “Is that a challenge?”

His lips spread into an easy smile. “Are you scared?”

I bark out a short laugh. “Not likely, Lawless.”

That’s when I realize my brothers are staring at us with funny looks on their faces. I stride over to Graham. “I’m with you.”

Nick gets into position next to Liam. “Let’s do this.”

Graham sends over the opening serve, which Nick returns effortlessly. No flinch in his expression, and he’s still smiling. So far, so good. Graham hits the return, and we volley back and forth several times until Liam swats it out of bounds.

I grab the birdie. “Our serve.” I move into position and aim at Nick.

He returns it smoothly with a nice arc. Graham sends it back with a calculated backhand, then Liam moves forward like a lion about to pounce, like he’s burning off some steam. I’m glad he left the shop in Jenny’s hands this morning so he could have a much needed break.

I can always tell when my oldest brother is trying to win because he presses his lips together and his brows lower. He draws his arm back and runs forward.

The problem is that Nick is going for it, too. And instead of making the return, they slam into each other like bumper cars and the birdie lands in the grass.

I try not to laugh. I really, really do, but the way they both stand there staring at each other reminds me of two cats getting ready to pounce on each other.

Nick swivels his head my way. “Are you laughing at me?”

I shake my head. “No, of course not. I’m laughing at Liam.”

“Hey!” Liam shoots me his meanest look, but I don’t miss how he’s struggling not to laugh, too. He bends over and picks up the birdie, then sends it back over. “Your point.”

Graham catches it with his racquet, announces the score, and lobs it over. After a few more points on both sides, we’re at a tie. I can tell Nick is feeling the workout by the way he’s rubbing his arm.

I march over to the net and hold my hand out. “Racquet, please.”

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