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for the tie, had gotten to choose the surface and they’d unerringly picked the one that the Americans in general were weakest on. As Ryan walked over, telling himself he belonged here and that it would not be at all awkward interrupting the conversation between Josh freaking Andrews and Brad freaking Sweeney, Brad turned to him.
    “Ryan, good to see you.”
    “You too, Mr. Sweeney,” Ryan said, shaking his hand. “Thanks so much for asking me. I won’t let you down, I promise.” And then he realized what he’d said and what an impossible and ridiculous promise it was to make. “What I mean is that I won’t let you down on purpose, of course, and I hope not to let you down at all, which kind of goes without saying—” And please God, could he just stop talking or would somebody rescue him?
    “You want to warm up?” Maybe not God but close enough. Josh Andrews had cut across his floundering.
    “Yes, please ,” he begged.
    “Half an hour, boys,” Brad said, and wandered away, presumably in search of his doubles players.
    “Thank you,” Ryan said meaningfully.
    “I’m guessing you babble when you’re nervous. Or maybe you’re just like that the whole time?”
    “Somewhere between the two, I’m told,” Ryan said. “Ryan Betancourt, by the way.”
    “Josh Andrews,” Josh said. As if Ryan wouldn’t know. Josh then started stretching out on the court in a way that had Ryan’s mouth dry for an instant before remembering he wasn’t here to watch the supple perfection that was Josh Andrews, but to warm up enough to play some tennis himself. And once he settled down to concentrate and work, he almost forgot it was Josh Andrews he was doing this with. Josh was just another player with whom he exchanged the occasional breathless, rueful smile when things got tough.
    They had a good coaching session that afternoon. Ryan had been nervous about working with someone other than Stefan in case it undid or somehow undermined what Stefan had been working on with him, but he found that it actually gave him a different perspective on the same things, albeit with one huge difference: Brad was all about emphasizing teamwork. He stressed how different this was from any other tennis experience, and how they could support and help one another in ways that would help them all play better tennis and come home with a good result.
    Even with his concerns about possible conflicts with Stefan’s coaching, Ryan had expected he’d learn from working with Brad. He hadn’t, however, expected to learn from watching Josh. Ryan always worked hard and paid attention to his coach, but seeing Josh approach the session with exactly the same level of seriousness and focus he would give a match was a revelation. There was no goofing off if things were going well, before settling back down. And as he watched yet another Andrews backhand disappear past him at bullet-like velocity, just kissing the baseline on its way into the outer atmosphere, he realized that Josh was equally serious about engaging his killer instinct even in a practice session. It seemed Ryan still had some attitude adjustments to make.
    After the session, he got directions from Josh to the treatment rooms for a follow-up with the physio. Josh hung back to talk to Brad again. That left Ryan feeling like he was the child while they were the parents, but he guessed in terms of experience that wasn’t completely off the mark.
    Josh came in as Ryan was just finishing up with Chris, the physio. “Supper’s at seven in the restaurant. Brad’s keen on us all eating together. It’s part of his whole team thing.”
    “ Seven? ” Ryan queried. It was only ten after five now. “But I’m starving .” And also sounding like a disappointed five-year-old, he realized belatedly.
    Josh’s lips twitched. “We still get our post-training carbs,” he assured Ryan. “You want to hold on till I’m done?”
    “Yeah, sure,” Ryan said. He sat down and waited for Josh, and as he