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rise and hit the ball onto Will and Danny’s side of the court.
    Will volleyed it to Drake, who volleyed it to Danny. Distracted by Tabatha pushing her date away, Danny almost missed the ball. Instead of connecting fully, his hand grazed the surface, sending the ball wide and out of bounds on the other side.
    â€œTwenty nineteen,” Drake called with a note of victory.
    Clearly aware of Danny’s distraction, even if he didn’t know the cause, Logan served the ball toward Danny, driving him close to the court boundary. Down the beach, Tabatha pushed her date away again. Danny missed the ball.
    â€œTwenty twenty,” Drake said more victorious than the last time.
    Will retrieved the ball and walked to Danny and followed his gaze down the beach. “You gonna play this game or be a voyeur?”
    â€œPlay.” His response was automatic, but he didn’t look away from Tabatha or the way her body curved beneath her clothes. When her date turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the beach alone, rage coursed through Danny. No man given the honor of spending time with Tabatha should leave her standing alone on a beach.
    Catching the irony, and growing angry with himself, because he’d left her alone on more occasions than he could count, Danny turned back to the game. “This ends. Now.”
    Tossing the ball back to Logan, Danny spread his legs and prepared for the rest of the game. He’d come to Miami to prove to himself and to Tabatha that he had what it took to be a serious adult. One part of that was to stop letting people down, and Will, even in a practice match, was a big part of that.
    Logan tossed the ball into the air and served it again to Danny’s side. This time, instead of it soaring past him, Danny turned sideways and bumped the ball to Will on the front line. Will popped it high and Danny rushed in for a dig that made a slight pop as leather smacked sand.
    â€œTwenty-one twenty,” Will said as he caught the ball and went to the serve spot. “Stay sharp, D.”
    His spine tingled with awareness and he knew without looking that Tabatha had walked close enough to see them. She was watching him. Her attention moved across him, awakening a hum of determination. The moment he’d wanted was here. He had a chance to show her how serious he could be about something and he’d be damned if he failed.
    â€œServe the ball,” he said to Will.
    Will tilted his head in acknowledgement and served. Back and forth, each side taking their three hits, they volleyed the ball. Each round of volleys grew more aggressive and each round invigorated Danny more, driving him harder and harder to prove himself.
    Every contact his hand made with the ball he pictured another man kissing his wife or he saw her walking out or her not giving him another chance. Every failure and disappointment and frustration from the last year bubbled to the surface and fueled his game.
    He would win this set and then he would win back his wife.
    Drake and Logan called to each other with every hit. Will and Danny did the same. Tabatha sat in the sand just inside the ring of light from the court lights. Her skirt pooled around her and she rested her chin on her knees, watching intently. He had her attention and he was going to keep it.
    Logan drove the ball toward Danny, hard. Danny met his gaze for the briefest moment through the net as the ball flew to his face. When it was close enough, he sank low beneath the ball and then jumped high, driving the ball back toward Logan with a slight downward angle. Leather slapped sand, sending a flurry of grains across Logan’s bare feet.
    â€œHell yeah! Twenty-two to twenty,” Will yelled in satisfaction. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
    â€œLast set decides the match.” Drake said as he and Logan ducked under the net to change sides.
    He wanted only to be with Tabatha, to make sure she got home safely, but he was