Page 1 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

Prologue

Whisper Hills Country Club

Midnight

It stank. Even from all the way across the street, she could smell the harsh chemicals. A burned rubber odor carried over on the desert breeze. Draining the last sip of Rombauer from her wine glass, she quietly opened the metal gate from her patio and signaled to the dog. He got up from the warm pavers while she secured a leash to his leather collar, as HOA rules dictated.

Across the street, four brand-new pickleball courts, converted from a single tennis court, glowed in the moonlight. Thick white stripes contrasted with the freshly painted dark-green and royal-blue surface.

Buttoning her cardigan against the evening chill, she dropped the dog’s leash. Sensing freedom, he sniffed the grass border, then found his way across the painted asphalt. Tucking his back legs and squatting, the dog dropped a pile of feces atop the newly laid surface of the pickleball courts.

“Ah …” Her lips lifted in a cold smile. “Who’s a good boy?”

1

“Step away, please,” said the emergency medical tech as he moved toward the man on the ground. “Give him some air.”

The Palm Springs Medical Response emergency van idled curbside, its red lights flashing round and round. Moments before, music had blared from a wireless speaker on a table under a nearby shade awning, and shouts and laughter had filled the air. But all had quieted when the ambulance pulled up.

“I’m fine,” wheezed Paul Rothman, a sheen of sweat above his unruly eyebrows. “I’m fine!” He lay on his back, splayed on the warm green surface, his T-shirt clinging to his soft belly.

The EMT placed his medical bag on the ground and knelt down next to Paul. He rubbed his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard as the walkie-talkie on his chest squawked.

“Third injury on a court today,” he said, “and it’s not even lunchtime yet.”

The EMT’s younger partner peered over his aviator sunglasses and looked across the twenty Whisper Hills Country Club pickleball courts. The players, mostly senior citizens, many with one or two knee braces or an elbow sheathed in a compression wrap, stood or leaned against the low chain-link fence, watching.

He nodded, then answered with his voice low, “We weren’t half as busy before pickleball decided to become the fastest-growing sport in the galaxy.”

“You aren’t old enough to remember how bad it was when rollerblading came on the scene. Nowthatwas busy,” the older EMT chuckled.

A metallic clank rang out as Endy Andrews threw open the gate and rushed onto the pickleball court. She looked around, her eyes wide and her long, dark hair wild from her mad dash to where Paul lay. She crouched down beside the heavyset man.

“Paul, are you okay?” she asked, her voice breaking. “What happened?”

The bearded EMT held out his hand. “Miss, you’re going to need to stand back.” He reached out to grab Endy’s arm.

“It’s okay. I work here,” replied Endy. “And Paul is my friend.”

“Oh, Endy, I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy,” said Paul. He looked at Endy and made a motion to push his gray-blond hair off his sweaty forehead. Endy tucked her own flyaway hair behind her ears, her eyes questioning.

From the corner of his mouth, Paul whispered, “That one’s hot. And he’s not wearing a wedding ring.”

Endy glanced at the younger EMT as he pulled a blood pressure cuff from his kit, a small grin playing on his lips.

Endy’s cheeks colored and she stammered, “Oh my god, Paul.”

Paul turned his head to the EMT. “An emergency medical technician is a noble profession. Tell me, did you go to an Ivy League college and are you wealthy?”

The EMT’s eyebrows drew together over his sunglasses. “Umm, no,” he answered.

“I ask because she’s been alone for a couple of years, ever since she was jilted by her rich, debonair ex-boyfriend,” said Paul, shifting his eyes in Endy’s direction.

Endy glanced down at her left hand, where she no longer wore an engagement ring. She slipped her hand under her leg.

“Paul, you don’t have to keep telling every handsome guy under the age of forty that Bennett broke up with me,” Endy said. “And he wasn’tthatrich.”

Paul waved his hand and then placed it on Endy’s knee. “We’re all looking after your best interests, sweetheart. We don’t like seeing how lonely you are.”

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