25. Gideon
GIDEON
I was lying on my living room floor, going through the same boring balance exercises I’d been doing for weeks.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Piper’s face.
How much time did she need? This was worse than waiting to see if she showed up to the game.
Now, I was waiting to see if she wanted to show up for… us.
C.C. pounced onto my chest and sashayed from my belly button to my face. I winced as he started kneading my chest, but his diesel engine purr was too cute for me to push him off. I tried to do the shoulder exercise, but my arms dropped to my side.
Thinking about Piper had taken over my life. Getting Piper back into my life occupied more of my knocked-around brain than getting back on the ice. I needed to get out of this house with the empty white walls.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Jameson.
“What’s up, Grumpster?” he answered on the second ring. After the first Grumpster, I’d decided to let it slide.
“Want to hit the gym? I need some equipment I don’t have here.”
“Sure, dude. Which gym?”
“Azalea Bay Club. You can be my guest.”
There was a pause. “You’re inviting me to your fancy country club?”
“Don’t make it weird. Just meet me there in an hour.”
“Do you want me to invite some of the other guys?”
My instinct was to say no, but I didn’t. “Sure, man. The more, the merrier.”
Movement was the answer. I just needed to bench-press something heavy to stop thinking.
An hour later, Jameson, Owens, Riley, and the new guy, Morgan, were knocking out Bulgarian split reps at the squat rack. “Nice place.” Jameson leaned against the rack and grinned as he drank from his water bottle. “No wonder you don’t want to come back to our shitty team gym.”
“I like the gritty gym.” I loaded a straight bar with weights for my shoulder set. “But this one is closer.”
Morgan held up his water bottle. “And they have cucumbers in the water.”
Owens laughed. “And rich stay-at-home housewives.” He pumped his eyebrows. “And they’re bored.”
We’d passed Izzy and Kensingtonon the way through the lobby, and the two of them had practically eye-fucked Morgan before Kensingtonwaved at me. “Hiiii, Giddy,” she’d cooed.
“They’re just bunnies with bigger wallets and a lot more baggage,” I grumbled.
The door to the weight room opened, and Margie peeked into the room. “Hi, Gideon. I thought I saw you come in here. Will we see you tomorrow at the usual time? I’ve got a new muffin recipe I’d like you to try.”
I didn’t dare look at the guys; I knew what was coming. “You bet, Margie. I love your muffins.”
She grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before closing the door.
The three of them were standing in a row, all with their arms crossed and huge grins plastered across their stupid faces. “You love her muffins, huh?” Jameson said.
I grabbed a foam block and tossed it at him. The block missed and hit an unsuspecting Owens in the cheek. He picked it up and hugged it to his chest. “Mmmm, Margie and your muffins.”
“Grow up,” Jameson grumbled.
“Hey, that’s my line.”
We all laughed. Did I actually miss hanging out with the team?
“I still can’t believe you’re playing pickleball,” Jameson said. “Weren’t you the one who said it wasn’t a real sport?”
“Careful, Jameson,” Riley warned. “It’s harder than it looks.”
“Please,” Jameson replied. “It’s tennis with a wiffle ball. How hard can it be?”
I was about to defend the sport when Janie Myers strode into the gym. The guys shut up and started pumping iron. Janie was very fit, and she had that perfectly curated “girl next door” look, the kind that took hours to look effortless.
“Gideon! Perfect timing. I have an idea about your tournament situation.”
“Tournament situation?” Jameson paused at the top of his squat. “Do tell more.”
“My teammates were just leaving,” I said.
Janie giggled. The guys resumed their workouts, but with all eyes on me and Janie.
“If Piper is worried about your skill level as a team, I have an idea. You and Piper should play a game against me and Preston Hartwell. He’s our club champion, one of the best amateur players at the club.”
It sounded like fun, but I didn’t think Piper would be up for it. “What’s the point?”
“If you can beat us, it will prove to Piper that you two are good enough for the tournament.” Janie picked up a fifty-pound dumbbell like it was a ten and set it on the weight rack. “She’s competitive. Tell her that if you two win, she has to play with you in the tournament.”
“And if they lose?” Owens racked the straight bar and draped his elbows over it.
“She’s got to go on a date with you.” Janie smacked my arm.
The guys broke out into laughter.
“Think about it.” Janie turned, her court shoes squeaking on the rubber floor. “And your friends should come and watch. I have the feeling there might be some spectators.”
When she left, Riley raised his eyebrows. “This I’ve got to see.”
“You fuckers better behave yourselves. If Piper agrees, you need to be on your best behavior.”
I sipped my water as I thought about it. Janie was right—Piper was competitive, and for me, it was a win-win situation.
Gossip spread faster at the Azalea Bay Club than gonorrhea did through a small-town Triple A team. Word had gotten out about the Janie Myers/NHL player match-up, and the stands were filled with curious spectators. I was starting to regret making this so public.
Fred and Dot had claimed front row seats, along with Margie and Harold. My teammates stood along the fence, with Owens explaining pickleball rules to the others. Chelsea and Izzy sauntered over from the pool in their bikini cover-ups and wide-brimmed hats.
Chelsea interrupted my hamstring stretch, curling her finger to call me to the stands. “Gideon, you’re going to have to introduce us to your friends after the game.”
“Sure.” I kept it short. Those women would eat the guys for breakfast, and part of me wanted to see it happen.
The crowd murmured as Janie and the club champion took to the court. Piper followed. She was wearing an icy blue one-piece shorts/tank top suit. My body stiffened as my teammates’ eyes followed her ass to the bench.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she muttered as she approached the bench. “We’re going to get destroyed.”
“No, we’re not.” I kept my voice low. “We’re good together, remember?”
She swept her hair into a high ponytail. “So are they.”
Preston and Janie were stretching at the far end of the court. “They’ve never played together. We’ve done a lot more than that,” I whispered, letting my lips brush her ear.
She shivered. “That’s true.” There was a glint in her eye, one I hadn’t seen since that day in my pool. “You’re lucky I have good incentive to win.”
I clutched my heart. “You’re killing me.”
“No.” Piper pulled her paddle from her bag. “We’re going to kill them.”
“That’s my girl.” The words slipped out.
Piper froze. “Not unless we lose.”
If we could channel the energy between us into our game, the good-looking stockbroker and the cute pickleball pro were cooked.
Preston Hartwell took his position across the court. He had a smug country club air, and the ease in his movements told me all I needed to know. He underestimated us.
“Ready?” Janie called out.
The crowd cheered. It was time.
The first few points were rough. Piper was playing it safe, so I was trying to counter that, and my risky shots weren’t paying off.
“Zero-three-two,” I announced after we’d fallen behind.
We lost the serve.
“Piper,” I whispered. “Stop playing not to lose.”
“What?”
“You’re playing scared. Play like you did that day we practiced. Play like you want to win. Play like you hate me.”
Something shifted in her expression. The next serve came to her backhand side, and instead of hitting a safe return, she ripped a cross-court winner that left Preston too far forward.
“That’s more like it,” I said.
After that, we started to find our rhythm. When Preston hit a hard drive down the divorce line, I was there to cut it off. When Janie tried to lob over Piper’s head, she was already backing up to put it away.
“Seven-five-one,” I called as we took the lead.
The crowd was getting rowdy.
“Holy shit,” Morgan said. “They’re actually good.”
“Language, young man,” Dot called out, but she was grinning.
The turning point came at eight-seven. Janie hit a perfect drop shot that barely cleared the net. I was too far back to reach it, but Piper dove, somehow managing to scoop it up to send it back over the net. Preston, expecting her to miss, was caught completely off guard.
“Nice shot!” Owens shouted.
Piper popped up from the ground, her knees skinned and a huge grin on her face. “Did you see that?”
“I saw it,” I said. I raised my hand, and she high-fived it. We were a team.
We won the next three points quickly, closing out the match eleven-eight. The crowd erupted in cheers, and before I could think about it, I grabbed Piper and spun her around.
“We did it!” she squealed.
For a moment, we were just two people celebrating. Everyone around us disappeared, and it was just me and Piper. Her chest heaved as she laughed, and she actually hugged me back. The world returned after our spin, and I set her down.
“That was…” she started.
“Amazing,” I finished. “So, you know what this means…”
She nodded, still catching her breath. “Okay. I’m in. We’ll enter the tournament.”
We made our way to the net and tapped paddles with Janie and Preston. “Nice game.” Janie grinned.
To my surprise, Preston said the same thing. “You’re not a barracuda. You’re a goddamn shark,” he laughed.
We turned to face the crowd, and everyone in the stands stood, clapping. I took Piper and Janie’s hands, and Janie grabbed Preston’s. The four of us bowed like a theatre troupe, and my morning pickleball crew shouted and clapped with their hands over their heads.
It wasn’t the Stanley Cup, but it felt almost as damn good. So what, I didn’t get the date with Piper? This was better. We were going to play in the tournament, and we were going to win.
Lisa and Olive rushed onto the court, and Olive wrapped her arms around her mom.
“That was incredible!” Lisa grinned. “Olive was giving a running commentary to anyone who would listen.”
“You were amazing, Mom!” Olive grinned up at me and squeezed me harder. “And Mr. Bailey, I didn’t know you were so good.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” I patted her shoulder, and something flickered in my heart when that kid smiled at me.
Lisa pulled us aside. “If you want a chance at winning this tournament, you’ll need to practice every morning this week. Judy offered to get Olive to school so you can train properly. I’ll be there to help you.”
“Lisa, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” She winked at me. “Someone needs to make sure you two don’t kill each other before Saturday.”
As the crowd dispersed, my teammates approached.
“Okay, I take it back,” Jameson said. “That was actually impressive.”
“The hand-eye coordination. That shit is fast.” Morgan shook his head. “And the strategy. I had no idea.”
“It’s like hockey,” Riley added. “Positioning, teamwork, reading your opponent.”
Chelsea and her friends leaned against the fence, and she shot me a look. “Hey, guys, there are a few members who want to meet you.” I pointed to the group of women. They smiled and waved.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered. All of them, except Jameson and Riley, went over to meet the horrible women.
As we packed up our gear, I caught Piper looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just…thank you. For pushing me to play like I meant it.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to try.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “So, 7:00 a.m. tomorrow?”
“7:00 a.m.,” she confirmed. “Don’t be late.”
“Gideon Bailey is never late.”
She grinned and shook her head. “Don’t make me regret this.”
My phone rang as I was getting into my Escalade. It was my brother, and I picked it up right away.
“How’s the recovery going?” he asked.
“Better. Much better.” I started the engine. “I just won my first pickleball match.”
“No shit? Against who?”
“Club champion and his partner. It was incredible, Ace. We played like we’d been together for years.”
“We?”
“Piper and I.”
“So you two worked things out?”
“It’s a work in progress.” I pulled out of the parking lot. “We’re playing in a tournament together next weekend. First prize is twenty-five grand!”
“Whoa,” Ace said. “If I’m in the hood, can I come and watch you lose?”
“Sure, dude.” I brushed off his comment. “Put Goldie on.”
“She’s not here.” Ace’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. With us, everything is good. There’s just some drama going on up here. I’ve got the weekend off—I was serious, can I come down and hang out with you? I can be the ball boy for your tournament. I can get a flight in on Friday.”
Classic Ace. I pulled into the driveway and pushed the button for the garage door. “I’m pretty sure you’re not qualified for the ball boy role, but I’ll have C.C. make up the spare room for you. See you Friday night.” I was about to hang up, but paused with my finger on the button. I love you Ace.”
“Love you too.” He didn’t even hesitate. “See you on the weekend.”
After we hung up, I sat in my car for a few minutes. What a difference a few hours could make. This morning, I was sure I’d lost her. This afternoon, we were partners.
Could this actually work?