Page 42 of Renegade Roomie

“You’re right.” Dash turns his smile to me, and dammit, if those flutterings in my stomach don’t return. “Morning, sweetheart.” He leans in and drops a light, sweet kiss on my lips.

“Good morning,” I manage, trying to stay cool. He looks at our bags.

“I knew you’d find your way to this place,” he says with a grin. “Did it meet your high standards?”

“Just about,” I smile. “Although, they could really use a good vegan lipstick line…”

“Maybe soon,” he says, “If everything goes to plan.”

Right. The plan.

Piper’s phone sounds with a text—and then Dash’s does, too. They both look, and then give a matching wince.

“Bad news?”

“Zelda,” Piper replies. “We’ve been summoned to the club.”

“More iced tea?” I ask, bracing myself for small-talk and socialites.

“Not exactly….” Dash gives me a mischievous grin that I know spells trouble. “How’s your tennis game?”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I emerge from a lavender-scented dressing room wearing a flirty little tennis skirt and sleeveless polo that I’ve borrowed from Piper. “You look great,” she reassures me.

“I look like I just stepped out of a Wes Anderson movie,” I say, looking around the immaculate club.

Dash is waiting by the court in spotless tennis whites.

“Antiquing… Tennis… Charity galas,” I tell him, “Are we playing rich person bingo? What’s next, a little jaunt on your yacht?”

“If you play your cards right.” Dash winks, pulling me into his arms. His body is warm against me, and his hands trail lightly over my bare shoulders before tilting my face up for a kiss.

A totally pretend, not at all genuine, knee-weakening kiss.

Flustered, I jerk back—in time to see Zelda approaching, with…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan under my breath. But of course, it’s Georgia, trim in a tiny tennis dress, revealing miles of tanned golden limbs.

“Well hi there!” she coos, reaching us. “Isn’t this fun? We can play a game of doubles.”

“What about Zelda?” I ask. “We can’t leave you out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Zelda says.

“She never actually plays,” Piper explains. “She just likes to cheer us on.”

“I’ll be over here, keeping score.” Zelda goes to settle in the shade, leaving me no escape.

“You do play, don’t you, Callie?” Georgia adds, turning to me.

“You hit the ball over the net, right?” I ask.

She giggles. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Dash and I move to the far end of the court. “Just a word of warning,” he says, passing me a raquet. “Georgia likes to win.”

“Good.” I smile. “So do I.”

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