Chapter 34 Pickleball Slayers and RSVPs
PICKLEBALL SLAYERS AND RSVPS
MABEL
Trevyn steps back and gives me an assessing once-over in the sleeping quarters of Afternoon Delight. AKA my new part-time residence. It’s just easier to crash here most nights. I peer at the clock—the big pickleball game starts in forty-five minutes.
I’m ready to…well, to look fantastic as I play mediocrely.
“My work here is done. You look simply fabulous,” Trevyn says with an approving nod.
“You’re only saying that because you did her eyeshadow,” Skylar points out, while giving belly rubs to Simon, her rescue pup, the world’s sassiest Dachshund mix who’s lounging on my bed, along with my girlfriends.
Trevyn whips his gaze to our redhead friend. “Like I’d leave it to Mabel to look fierce on the court.”
“Hey. I can do my own makeup.”
“Of course you can,” Trevyn says.
“He’s just better,” Skylar says impishly.
“Eyeshadow is a serious commitment,” Remy observes from her spot next to Skylar. “Eyeshadow says I have more free time than you do.”
“Eyeshadow says I took makeup training classes at Goddess,” Clementine puts in, as she kicks one black Mary Jane shoe back and forth.
Trevyn rolls his eyes. “Do not start insulting makeup tutorials, classes, or the world’s best store. That’s where I met Jean-Paul Patrick the other week,” he says with a curve of his lips.
“We know,” I say in unison with Skylar, Remy, and Clementine, since Trevyn has been gushing about his new beau.
“And they’ve been having the most fabulous dates,” Remy adds, a note of pride in her voice.
“She designed them for me,” Trevyn explains.
“We know,” I say, this time with Skylar and Clementine backing me up.
“They’re just jealous I’m going on such amazing dates,” he says to Remy, like they’re co-conspirators, and they are.
But Skylar clears her throat then waves a hand, her big diamond ring glinting in the morning sunshine. “I go on great dates too.”
“We know,” the rest of us say, then Trevyn walks in a circle around me, reviewing my ensemble one more time. I opted for a red dress with small white polka dots and a cute little pleated skirt.
“Perfy,” he declares. “You look fabulous for the fake date.”
I bristle a little, even though it is a fake date. “Good. Because I need to play the part for Ronnie Legend. For professional reasons, of course.”
“Understandable,” Remy says. “He’s powerful in the baking world.”
“Exactly. I want to look good, play well, and be believable even though it’s fake.”
But everything else between Corbin and me feels…
weirdly real. Like the conversation we had the other day on the court.
Our conversations are easy and natural. Our arguments are too.
We seem to be able to talk openly about the past, our families, our fears, our goals.
And about the love letters that make my heart glow every time we share them.
Nothing between us seems fake. But of course, today is all about appearances, and I need to make sure we come across as boyfriend and girlfriend, not business partners with benefits.
“I’m not so sure it’s a fake date though,” Skylar says, reading my thoughts.
“And since you took so long to tell us about The Filthy Gentleman rendition, I think you should ’fess up now with what you’ve been up to,” Remy adds.
My chest flutters. Maybe my nipples tighten too. So annoying, being in a frequent state of almost arousal thanks to Corbin. But I’m also grateful for the chance to confess. I don’t want to keep things from my friends.
I drop to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of them. “This is a secret, so don’t tell anybody but we’ve agreed to be…business partners with benefits.”
Skylar laughs. “How sophisticated and mature.”
“It is,” I insist.
“How not risky at all,” Clementine deadpans.
“How utterly adorable,” Trevyn says, sitting next to me and patting my shoulder.
“Hey! It just makes sense.”
“It’s totally a thing,” Remy confirms, straight-faced. “I’ve had a lot of couples submit their how-we-met stories for my show, and many started as business partners with benefits.”
But I shouldn’t even entertain the thought that we might become more.
It’s too risky for the bakery. “This is truly all it is. Just an arrangement. I honestly don’t have time for romance,” I say, and that’s the full truth.
Even if I wonder every now and then what it’d be like to date him, I know it’d be a bad idea for business.
“I’m really trying to focus on work. It’s important. ”
“So are daily Os from your hockey playing business partner who’s crazy for you,” Skylar says.
A zing rushes through me from her words, but it’s best I deny it. “He’s not crazy for me.”
Remy scoff-laughs. Does she know something more?
“What’s that for?” I ask.
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“When?” I wish I didn’t sound so excited.
“At games when you’re there,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Here at the bakery whenever I come in,” Clementine adds.
“Even at your brother’s surprise birthday party,” Skylar puts in.
I whip my gaze to her. “Then?”
“I noticed it. But now it makes more sense.”
My chest warms. Corbin did say he’d wanted to ask me out when he first met me.
Since I met you. When I didn’t see you all the time, I just lived with it. It was there in the background. Now I see you, and it’s like a life force.
“Maybe,” I say, waving a hand in front of my face, trying to erase all these wild thoughts, but also the effect this conversation is having on me. I’m getting all…fluttery when I need to put my hot-girl game face on.
“Not maybe. Definitely,” Skylar says.
“The man has always given off into you vibes,” Trevyn confirms.
I set a hand on my cheek. It’s so warm. I shouldn’t like this so much.
“Nothing is going to come of it,” I say, breezily, like this intel just doesn’t matter.
Because it can’t matter. “We’re running a business together.
One that’s barely been open two weeks. I’m not going to get romantically involved with my business partner for real. ”
“Just for pretend,” Trevyn says.
“And in bed,” Skylar adds.
“Bet that’s not fake,” Remy puts in with a saucy smile.
I give her one right back. “Oh, there’s nothing fake about that.”
“I don’t fake it with my toys either,” Clementine says with a too innocent grin.
“Get it,” Trevyn says, then high-fives Clementine, before he gives me a kiss on the cheek and shoos me off. “Go! You have to pretend you’re not madly in love with the man you’re secretly banging, but pretending you’re not banging, in front of your brother.” He furrows his brow. “Now I’m confused.”
I think we all are.
I blow them a kiss, including Simon. Clementine has to take off soon, but since Aisha can’t start till noon today, Remy, Trevyn and Skylar are going to run the bakery while I play ball. “Love you. You guys are the best for running the store this morning.”
“We know,” they echo back.
Corbin lunges for a ball, but it’s supercharged, flying past him.
Tiffany and Brittany slap palms, then get back in position, game faces on, bouncing on their toes. With nothing but focus, Tiffany serves and the ball heads my way.
After it bounces once, I return the serve with a grunt. We volley for a heart-pumping minute till Tiffany smashes the ball hard. I stick out my racket in desperation, but the ball has some serious topspin on it, and it whizzes past me in a blur.
They high-five again. The match goes on like this, and they’ve already won two games.
I’d like to win, but I also would like someone to put me out of my misery. This game is brutal, and my body is crying.
They play fast, sharp, and clean, and they take no prisoners. I thought I could hold my own thanks to the lesson from Corbin. But I also thought he’d be a secret weapon, being a pro athlete and all.
But nope. They’re massacring us as Ronnie watches courtside, sipping a matcha and snapping photos.
“How are we doing, Ronnie?” Tiffany calls out after Corbin misses their next missile.
“Brilliant,” he replies, then snaps another shot of the action.
If my silver eyeshadow is smeared I’m going to kill Trevyn.
But at the end of the match, I’m dead.
Just dead.
I’m breathing hard, my thighs are screaming, and my ego is bruised. But it has nothing on Corbin’s ego. He seems dazed, like he can’t believe the carnage on the court.
“Yay! We won,” Brittany shouts, and she and her pickleball friend hug fiercely. But they don’t gloat. They bounce over to the net and we join them.
“You two did so great,” Tiffany says with a bright smile.
“You kept us on our toes,” Brittany adds, sounding earnest.
“And you’re the cutest,” Tiffany says then turns to Corbin. “I just love the way you said Good job to Mabel every time.”
Brittany smiles my way. “And you were like We can do this to him.”
Huh. We said that? I barely realized. But that is pretty nice.
I steal a glance at Corbin, and the shock in his eyes disappears, replaced with…
affection when he looks at me. He steps closer, drapes an arm around me, and drops a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Because I love doing things with you,” he says, and it’s for them.
I know it is.
But it feels like it’s for me.
I lean into his side embrace, enjoying this part of the fake date so much. He drops his nose into my hair again. I swear he can’t stop doing that. After a quick hit, he pulls back and breathes out, like he’s inhaled relaxation and sunshine.
Brittany and Tiffany coo. “Aww, I just love this. Are you going to his game tonight? You two are so encouraging,” Brittany says.
“You’re couple goals,” Tiffany adds.
I wasn’t planning to, but I kind of like the sound of it.
“I love it when she comes to my games,” Corbin jumps in, giving a squeeze of my shoulder and leaving the invitation in my…court.
It feels like a real invitation, so I RSVP. “The bakery closes at six, so I’ll be there.”
“Wearing my jersey,” he adds, in that possessive tone that sends sparks down my spine.
Tiffany waves to Ronnie. “Picture time.”
We smile for the camera, and all of the smiles, from all four of us, feel strangely real.
It’s weird. But weird good.
“I’ll tag you and mention your smash cakes. You were such good sports,” Brittany says after Ronnie tucks the phone away.
“That would be amazing,” I say, since publicity is publicity.
“And we’re so glad you aren’t sad,” Brittany adds, patting my arm.
“Ronnie, we can’t stand Dax,” Tiffany says. “Can you please tell Romance Beach he’s such a tool?”
Ronnie laughs. “I have no say over that show, and you know it.”
“But tell them we don’t like him. We do love Mabel though,” she adds.
“I’ll pass it on.” Ronnie offers me a hand and I shake. “You really are a good sport. And your smash cake is shockingly brilliant. I underestimated you.”
That makes losing worthwhile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They leave, and once they’re gone, I turn to Corbin, whispering in awe, “He just apologized.”
“As he should,” Corbin says, but I’m not sure I agree.
“I don’t think you’re wrong, and on the one hand, Ronnie was harsh that day,” I say, then blow out a breath, and face the facts head-on. “But I was impulsive. I was also distracted. I think I’m doing a better job now managing…well, managing myself.”
“Fair enough,” he says.
I pause, noodle on that a few seconds more. “And I think it’s because of you.”
He shoots me a curious look. “How so?”
“You have a calming effect on me,” I admit. But he’s giving me more than that. His faith has been a boon to my self-confidence.
His lips quirk up in a smile but then it burns off. “I was hoping to have a horny effect on you.”
“You have that too, but you also have a calming effect. It’s a compliment. Accept it.”
A hint of a smile returns. He tucks a strand of my hair over my ear. “I accept. And I’ll see you tonight. In my jersey.”
A real invitation indeed.