My Super-Hot Fake Wedding Date

He laughed. “Oh wait, never mind. I realized where I recognized you from—you deliver packages to my company. Never mind! Wish fulfilled.”

I caught a glimpse of Maddy in the stands, nervously wringing her hands together. “Shut it, Tyler.”

He puffed out his chest. “Make me.”

Frank glanced at me nervously. We were so close.

“In a minute,” I told Tyler. He served again and I hit the ball back; Art lunged for it and missed. Tyler reached to try to save it before it went out, but he couldn’t quite get there.

“What good are you, Dermody?” Art roared.

“Sorry, sir.” Tyler glared at me.

Frank crossed himself. “Match point.”

The ball came to him, and he volleyed it right to Art. Art didn’t hesitate—he sprinted into place, put his racket on it, and hit a drop shot.

I dove for the ball. There was no way in hell I was letting them win. Just in time, my racket connected and volleyed the ball across the court. Art ran for it and missed. Tyler threw himself at it and missed.

“Woo hoo!” Frank twirled his racket around like a lasso. “We did it! We did it!”

I clapped his shoulder. “Yep, we did.”

“I can’t believe it. After all these years!” Frank had a starry look in his eyes.

“They’re not actually that good,” I told him in a low voice. “If I’m ever back on the island, I’ll give you a call. Rematch, baby.”

“I hope I live for a few more summers,” Frank said. “That would be epic!”

Art was red-faced, screaming at Tyler on the other side of the court.

“Gentlemen,” I called, “thanks for a great game. Catch you next time. Or not.”

Art turned his red face to me. “You wait a minute, son—”

“You can’t tell me what to do, sir. I appreciate that you’re running this place like a gulag, but I’m a free man as of today. Have a nice Sunday.” I nodded at him. “Tyler, by the way, you’re an asshole.”

He stalked over to me. His own face was red, and his eyes were wild. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said, by the way, YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE.” I flashed him the dimple.

To my credit, he swung first. But I ducked, and he missed. My fist, however, connected nicely with his jaw. He went down hard, hitting the court with a satisfying thud.

I leaned over him. “See you at work, douche-face.”

He pointed up at me. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I stepped over him as I left the court. “Says you and your aviators.”

I stopped when I came even with Madison. Unlike her father, her face was white as a sheet. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah.” She eyed the scene on the tennis court. “Sure.”

Chip drove us to the ferry. No one came out to see us off, not that I blamed them. I had just decked one of their longtime family friends after beating the family patriarch at a game he refused to lose.

Maddy didn’t speak to me on the way to the wharf. I didn’t blame her, either.

There wasn’t much left to say.