Page 3 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

She heard a burst of laughter from their open windows, followed by a livelybrruuup, brruuupof the siren.

Endy turned back to the pickleball courts when high-pitched yapping filled the air. A slender, speckled bird with a crest on its head streaked past, its long legs propelling it swiftly across the grass lawn. Steps behind, a ten-pound miniature dachshund took chase, a flash of angry red-brown fur, floppy ears, and bared teeth.

“Rusty!” shouted Gary Lombardi. He ran after the dog, an empty leash dragging behind him. “Come back here, you beast!”

The roadrunner darted under a bougainvillea and the mini-dachshund followed, skidding under the bush just as the roadrunner squeezed through the wrought iron fencing, making a Houdini-like escape.

Endy and Gary rushed to where a vexed Rusty was holed up, still yapping, biting, and tearing at the vegetation in front of the fence. Endy dropped to her knees and reached out to grab the dog.

“Woah, woah! Don’t do that unless you want to get your hand bit off,” Gary warned. “We’ll have to wait until she tires herself out or—”

“I can get her out of there.”

Endy turned toward the voice and craned her head up to find the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen towering above her.

He nudged past Endy and knelt down, pulling branches aside. “Ouch!” he hissed and yanked his hand back from a spine hidden among the bougainvillea’s papery flowers. A bright red scratch bloomed on his skin, and he wiped his hand across the front of his tennis shorts, leaving a smear of blood. From below the bush, Rusty yapped incessantly, but then snarled, low and menacing, and sprang forward, snapping her teeth.

The gorgeous guy moved back, bumping into Endy. Their eyes met and held.

Endy’s heart thudded as she got to her feet. Her palms grew damp, and she wiped them on her skirt, at the same time trying to settle the fluttering feeling in her chest.

“Uh … hi,” she stammered and gave him a slight, oddly formal nod.

He lifted an eyebrow and flashed her a crooked smile, and Endy felt a flush rise in her cheeks.

“Hi,” he replied and then grabbed the hem of his T-shirt with both hands crossed in front of him and pulled the shirt up over his head, revealing his rock-hard six-pack abs and chiseled chest.

Endy’s jaw dropped open.Holy crap.The hot EMT had nothing on this guy.

He wrapped the shirt fabric around his hands and forearms and leaned back into the bougainvillea.

“Careful,” groaned Gary, peaking through his hands covering his face. “I can’t be held liable for what may happen—”

The mini-dachshund snarled again and her razor-sharp teeth chomped out as the gorgeous guy reached deep under the shrub.

And then, surprisingly, he stood up, the red-brown ball of rage wrapped in his T-shirt, now perfectly quiet. He smoothed the fabric away from Rusty’s head and raised her up to examine.

Gary tripped back in terror. “Not so near your face!”

But the tiny dog peeked her nose out, sniffed at the guy’s cheek, and then enthusiastically began licking his mouth and chin. He tilted his head back and laughed, the sound deep and full.

“Hey, Hall! I’ll meet you on court nine,” came a shout from across the lawn, near the tennis courts.

He waved his hand over his head in acknowledgment, then picked up the leash that Gary had dropped on the lawn, clipped it to the dog’s collar, and placed her gently on the ground. Rusty hopped up and down on her back legs, trying to climb his leg, but he handed the leash to Gary and then reached down and caressed the dog’s soft ears.

And as Endy stood paralyzed, he shook out his T-shirt, pulled it back over his head, and took a step away. He paused and turned to look back at Endy. His lips pulled up in a sexy smile, and then he gave her the same slight, oddly formal nod she’d given him and jogged off.

Gary picked up Rusty and settled her in the crook of his arm. “Endy,” he said, “you can close your mouth now.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he reached out his hand and lifted her chin.

Endy drew in a deep breath and quickly blinked her eyes. Did that really just happen? Did the universe just drop the most gorgeous guy in front of her after she’d declared the chances of meeting someone less than zero? She shook her head, wondering if her morning could get any stranger, and looked across the lawn to the pickleball court where she had just been with the EMTs. Paul Rothman waved in her direction.

“Drama over,” Paul called out. “I’m giving it up for the day, so everyone, please, resume playing.”

The rest of the pickleball players slowly moved from where they sat. Some raised their paddles in acknowledgment, a couple waved, and they all returned to their courts. The music was turned back on, and the squeaking of shoes moving on the court resumed.

Paul turned to Steven and the two other men who had been on the court with them but had stood to the side during the ordeal. “You guys should keep playing.”

“I don’t know, Paul, that just doesn’t seem right,” argued Steven.

---