Page 33 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

I hid a smile, knowing what he meant. I trotted over and gave my new teammates a high five as Chase took his previous spot once more. In an instant, I snapped into competition mode. The eight years since high school trickled away, leaving only focus and determination.

The game began. One serve after another got picked up by the wind and thrown out of bounds. Occasionally we’d return the ball and rotate. Soon I found myself face-to-face with Chase.

Standing here, my feet buried in sand, he seemed larger than life and completely in his element. I hadn’t realized he was so competitive. Clearly the guy had plenty of experience on the court. Maybe even as much as I did.

“Game point,” he said.

I realized he was talking to me. All I could see in his dark glasses was my reflection. It made me sweep a hand over my messy hair. “We’re only seven points behind. It’s been known to happen.”

“Possible, yes. Likely? No.”

I gave him a smirk before turning to find Agwe stepping up to the serving line. “Go, Agwe!” I called. “You’ve got this.”

The man leaped into the air and slammed the ball, sending it sailing over the net. The ball found its target between two members of Chase’s team and hit the sand before anyone could touch it.

Oh.He really did have this.

“Six,” I said.

Chase only smiled.

Two more serves, each in a different location across the court, and Chase’s team looked a little less cocky than before. Even Chase’s smile had faded.

On the fourth serve, someone managed to bump the ball upward, and Chase tipped it over the net.

Acting instinctively, I dove and got my fingers under it, propelling it back into the sky. Sand flew behind me as Agwe hurried to set the ball, allowing another man to spike it. He’d been careful to send it out of Chase’s reach, and it paid off. The woman next to Chase made a dig and sent it sailing out of bounds before it could reach the net.

“Three,” I said to Chase, whose frown had deepened. “Care for a friendly wager,sweetie?”

One trimmed eyebrow lifted. “Name your terms.”

“If my team wins, I get your sunglasses.”

He looked genuinely taken aback. “You want my aviators?”

“Not really, but I think that’ll make you play worse next game. Now nameyourterms.”

He snickered. “Whenmy team wins, you accompany me on an errand in town later.”

I paused, trying to figure out why he would possibly want me tagging along. “What kind of errand?”

“Not telling. Take it or leave it.”

The entire court was listening now, I saw.

I feigned nonchalance with a casual shrug. “Sure? As long as your errand doesn’t include crocodiles.”

“I make no guarantees. Last chance to back out, darling.”

“Bring it on.”

I turned and grinned at Agwe, who watched us both with a strange expression. When I nodded, he snapped back into his groove. With a leap that shouldn’t have been possible in sand, he slammed the ball over the net. It flew over Chase’s head, landing barely within bounds before anyone could dive for it.

“Two,” I sang.

“We know how to count,” Chase growled. He dug his feet into the sand, swung his arms, and settled in to watch Agwe, every muscle tense. He looked like a wolf about to spring. I saw myself reflected in his sunglasses, a pale blur of a reflection. I made a mental note to get a little more sun this summer.

Agwe called out the score, lifted the ball, and pitched it over the net—only to groan as it sailed slightly too far to the right. Luckily, a woman in her forties leaped up at the last second and tipped it into the net. It bounded right back at her and hit the sand.

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