Page 9 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

On the opposite side of the tennis court, Collin stood, a look of annoyance across his face and his racquet lowered by his side. But the handsome stranger just took a deep breath and adjusted the headband holding back his tangled mane of dark, chocolate-brown hair. He rolled his neck and shoulders in irritation, picked up the pickleball, and tossed it up in the air.

“Someone missing this?” he asked. Then he swatted the plastic ball, launching it with velocity out of the tennis court.

Endy stepped aside quickly, stumbling back, barely dodging the pickleball as it came shooting toward her head.

Sebastian Hall pushed back his dark brown hair again. After netting that shot, he’d looked up to see where that miserable bright green plastic ball came from. At first, he’d only seen a huge neon-green T-shirt with something that looked like a dill pickle wearing Ray Bans and weirdly oversized white gloves across the front. But then he saw her watching from the fence, with the sun from behind, creating a radiant halo around her. A shock of long, dark hair hung down her back and shadows brought out the lean and athletic cut of her arms. Her legs, long and graceful, peaked out from under a short tennis skirt. Sebastian grinned when he recognized her as the girl from earlier, when he’d pulled that vicious dog out from under the bush and scratched his hand.

He studied her, standing at the railing, and within seconds, he took in her striking eyes that were rimmed with thick, dark lashes and had a slight upturn at the outside edges. But it was her mouth, opened into a gasp when she’d realized he’d missed that easy overhead, that stuck in his mind.A mouth,he thought,that was infinitely kissable.

“TIME!” yelled Collin from the other side of the net, holding up his hands. “If I could, I’d give you a freakin’ time violation. Serve it up, already!”

“What do you mean ‘time violation’?” yelled Sebastian, laughing. He held one tennis ball and shoved another in the pocket of his shorts. “What are you, an actual player or a chair umpire?”

Collin shook his head, a huge grin across his face. “Just serve, Hall.”

“Alright, Park,” Sebastian agreed. “You asked for it.”

He took the tennis ball in his left hand, tossed it high above his head, loaded up on his back leg, then exploded up. His racquet carved through the air, the strings making contact with the fuzzy green ball. It soared over the net at about a hundred miles per hour, then hit the front of the service line, and blasted directly into Collin’s body.

Twisting his hips to avoid getting hit, Collin blocked the serve with his racquet, which sent the ball flying high in the sky. Sebastian jogged toward the net, leaped into the air with his racquet cocked behind him, and slammed the ball. It ricocheted off the hard surface and flew over the ten-foot-high chain-link fence, finally coming to a stop yards away on the nearby manicured croquet court.

Sebastian landed on his feet, laughing.

He looked up at the railing to see if the stunning girl with the long, dark hair sawthatoverhead slam, but she’d vanished, only leaving him with an image of a huge neon-green T-shirt with a dill pickle.

5

Refolding a stack of T-shirts with Whisper Hills logos and placing them at the edge of the table, Endy recounted what had gone on during the community meeting earlier in the day. She moved around the shop, tidying it up after closing.

“… and like Daniel said, pickleball is here to stay,” said Endy. “Especially since it’s starting to appeal to younger players.”

Maria bunched up the cloth she’d been using to dust the racks and glanced up at the wall clock. She said, “Speaking of younger players, you better get going or you’ll be late again.”

Endy looked at her phone, checking the time. “Dammit, I can’t be late again! The kids don’t have adult supervision until I—”

The telephone on the front desk rang, the sound piercing in the empty pro shop. They slid glances at each other and then to the ringing telephone.

“Should we—” started Endy.

Maria shook her head. “No, we’re closed. Don’t answer it—”

“Hello, Whisper Hills racquet pro shop,” said Endy, after lifting the receiver to her ear. “Hey, Gary, what can I do for you?” Maria rolled her eyes and pointed at the clock.

Endy shrugged with her palm in the air. “Hang on one sec while I pull up my schedule… . I’m going to put you on hold.” She pressed a button on the phone and looked at Maria, her eyes pleading.

“Alright, alright. I gotchu,” said Maria, walking to the front desk. She tucked the cloth into a drawer and withdrew her key ring. “I’ll head over now, but I’m literally not doing anything until you get there, and you owe me for this.” She opened the door and called over her shoulder, “I’m locking the door behind me. Get there as soon as you can.”

“Thanks, I’ll pay you back, I promise!” replied Endy as she pressed the hold button again. “Gary, you still there?”

After she’d hung up the phone, Endy looked at the clock and saw how late she was. She ran to her office, grabbed her purse and keys, and flicked off the lights. With the sun setting behind the mountains, the pro shop windows darkened. Endy took one last look over the shop, making sure everything was in order. She unlocked the glass door, flung it open, stepped through, and ran smack into something solid. Someone solid.

Strong arms wrapped around her, preventing her from toppling down the steps.

“Gah!” she shrieked. Her face pressed into a firm chest, the top of her head reaching just below a strong chin.

“Did you just say ‘gah’?” the extremely handsome guy holding her asked, his tone full of amusement. Endy looked up to thick lashes surrounding intense light blue eyes staring deep into hers. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she seemed to have quit breathing all the while his arms held her in a warm, protective embrace.

“Did I?” she stammered, gathering herself and stepping back from him. Her eyes widened when she recognized him as Rusty’s rescuer and Collin Park’s tennis opponent from just a few hours before, and her heart skipped more than a beat.

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