Page 10

E ndy stood next to the patio railing overlooking the entirety of the racquet club.

In front of her, four couples dressed in all white played croquet on the world-famous lawns that had hosted many national and international croquet tournaments.

Directly in front of the deep-green clipped lawn was the sunken stadium tennis court, lined with seating.

To her right were the lesson and practice courts, where both tennis ball machines were in use, shooting balls toward the pros and young amateurs with a sound like a thudding pop.

To her left were the dozens of tennis hard courts next to the many pickleball courts, filled and boisterous as usual.

But farther out, just past it all were Whisper Hills’ famed grass tennis courts.

These were the only grass courts in the area, and they were meticulously maintained, clipped tight like carpet, and striped with gleaming white chalk.

The grass was especially favored by the older tennis crowd because of its more forgiving impact on players’ bodies.

The door to the pro shop flung open, and Maria rushed outside to Endy, a bag of ice in her hand. “Joel just called. Looks like another injury, and he needs this ice right away.”

Endy grabbed it from Maria’s hands. “Which court?” she asked, already moving from the patio.

“Grass court one,” replied Maria.

“Grass?” Endy turned, questioning. “Not pickleball?”

“Pickleball already has a torn rotator cuff and a snapped wrist this week. About time tennis took a turn.”

Endy ran down the steps and jumped into her golf cart. By the time she arrived, she could see Joel bent over someone sitting on the grass court, one leg stretched out.

“Hey,” she called out. “You needed ice?” She strode toward them.

Joel stepped aside, and Endy looked down at the player on the ground.

She inhaled sharply. Sitting on the grass was the extremely handsome guy she’d seen playing against Collin Park.

The same guy who had rescued Rusty. The one with the gorgeous brown hair and intense light blue eyes that belonged to …

the one she’d slammed into the day before when she’d darted out of the pro shop because she was late.

“Are you okay?” she stammered.

“Well, now that you’re here,” he said, his full lips pulled up on one side, “more than okay.”

Endy’s heart pounded in her throat. She froze in front of them, the bag of ice dripping down her leg.

“Could I have that? Or did you want to keep it for yourself?” he asked, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Oh my gosh, of course. Here.” She stuck out her hand and then stood still, her eyes wide, her heart still skipping.

Joel crossed his arms and looked from Endy down to the injured player. “Uh, Sebastian, this is Endy Andrews, our assistant director of racquet sports.” He lifted his chin toward Endy as an introduction.

Joel’s eyes shifted between the two, sensing a chemistry between them, and a sour expression crossed his face. The sound of tinkling wind chimes from the yard across the street carried to them in the warm breeze.

“Endy, this is Sebastian Hall. We were just hitting, and he turned his knee after I aced him.”

“That was not an ace,” groaned Sebastian. “Your ball was so out, it wasn’t even close to being near the line.”

“So why’d you lunge for it?”

“That was not an ace,” repeated Sebastian.

“My signature shots have always been out wide, painting the lines.” Joel smiled, relishing the argument. “It absolutely was an ace.”

“Bullshit,” replied Sebastian.

“So, then why’d you try to return it?” Joel asked, laughing.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and then held out his hand to Endy. “Help me get over to the bench?” She grasped his strong hand in hers and a shock of electricity jolted between them.

In a fluid move, Sebastian got up from the grass and stood, gingerly testing his injured knee.

He was a head taller than Endy, with long legs and broad shoulders.

His dark brown, chin-length hair was again pulled back with an elastic headband, accentuating his high cheekbones. And his eyes … they were hypnotic.

Joel shoved himself between Sebastian and Endy. He took Sebastian by the arm, leading him off the grass. “Dude, I’ll help you,” Joel grumbled and slid a glance at Endy.

From the edge of the grass court, two dogs got into a barking, snarling skirmish and lunged at each other while their owners yanked at their leashes, trying to keep them separate. With the jealous way that Joel was acting, Endy hoped that she wouldn’t have to pull him and Sebastian apart as well.

“Do you need to go to the urgent care clinic?” asked Endy, following them off the court. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I can find someone to take you over to Eisenhower.”

“No, thanks though. This is an old injury that keeps haunting me. Unfortunately, I’m used to reinjuring it.

” Sebastian lowered himself onto the bench.

“I’ll just ice it for a bit, then I should be fine to get home and elevate it.

” He shifted on the bench and then tilted his head up, looking at Endy with a small smile. His eyes held hers.

Endy felt her face redden. She bit at her lip and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I guess if you’re really okay, I should get back to the shop.”

“Yeah, you should,” said Joel, his eyes narrowed. “And hey, since you’re going past court eleven, can you tell—”

“Actually, I’m not sure I can make it on my own to my car,” interrupted Sebastian. He looked up through his thick eyelashes at Endy. “Could you maybe help me out?” A perfect smile pulled at his lips, and Endy felt faint.

“Sebastian, I can help you get to your car,” volunteered Joel, eyeing them.

“That’s okay, Joel. I know you’re supposed to be teaching another lesson right now. She …” He looked from face to face.

“Endy,” she reminded him, trying to calm her pounding heart.

Sebastian smiled again. “Endy can help me.”

The golf cart was close enough that Sebastian could have hobbled there on his own, but he had insisted on putting his arm around Endy’s shoulders for support.

She thought that she’d done the best she could in assisting him, even though she was already weak in her knees from just being near him.

But once they’d maneuvered into the cart and her pounding heart had settled, Endy still had to grasp the steering wheel tightly to hide her shaking hands.

Endy’s cell phone rang, causing her to jump in her seat. She saw Sebastian bring his hand up to his mouth to hide a grin.

“Hey, Maria,” she said, smiling and putting her phone on speaker. “What’s up?” Endy turned on the golf cart and slowly pulled onto the gravel path.

“You’re not going to like this, but could you check on the pickleball courts?” asked Maria.

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Mr. Brewer just came in here yelling about the pickleballers next to his tennis court. He’s on court eight and—”

“… it’s right next to the pickleball courts.” Endy frowned. “I’m on my way.” She hung up her call and turned to Sebastian. “I have a bit of an emergency. Do you mind if we make a stop?”

“No problem. Let’s get over there,” said Sebastian, shaking his head. “Step on it, Lightning McQueen.”

Endy’s eyebrows rose and she smiled. She floored the accelerator, the surge throwing Sebastian back into his seat. He burst out laughing and grabbed hold of the armrest. Endy laughed too and took a sharp corner. “You told me to step on it.”

They arrived just as an argument broke out between two middle-aged men who stood on the strip of lawn between the pickleball and tennis courts.

“Keep that goddamn stupid wiffle ball on your own court!” yelled Marty Brewer.

“Jesus, Marty, calm down.”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down. I’m sick and tired of our tennis games getting interrupted by all of your foolishness. It’s not just the incessant noise anymore. Now that you all are encroaching on our tennis courts, we have to deal with these stupid plastic balls stopping our play.”

Endy left Sebastian sitting in the golf cart and ran toward Marty and George. She lifted her hands up, palms out, and patted at the air. “Hey, you two. Can I help out here?”

“Oh, Endy,” said Marty, exasperated. “This pickleball thing is just ruining everything.”

George interrupted and said with sarcasm, “Ohhh, pickleball is just ruining everything. Marty, just slither out of the ice age and get used to the idea that pickleball is getting more popular than tennis.”

Endy saw Marty grit his teeth and his face turn red.

“Okay, okay. Can someone tell me what’s happened?” she asked.

George stepped forward and gestured at the pickleball court where three other players stood uncomfortably. “We were on game point, Terry popped up a dink, I hit a flawless overhead slam which bounced high and sent the ball over the fence and onto their court.” He glanced at Marty. “Simple mistake.”

“Not so simple when it was the third time it happened in an hour!” yelled Marty.

“We had match point, and as I served, this stupid ball bounced onto our court.” He threw the bright green plastic ball at George, hitting him on the forehead.

“I’m over this. Something’s got to be done.

” Marty stormed away. “Something will be done,” he said over his shoulder.

George wiggled his head and rolled his eyes. And then he raised both hands and slowly flipped up his middle fingers to Marty’s retreating back.

He turned to Endy. “Sorry for the trouble, Endy.” He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Can George Jacobs help it if his overhead slams are flawless?”

Endy returned to Sebastian sitting in the back seat of the golf cart, his leg propped up with the bag of ice melting around his knee.

He looked like he was trying to fight back a smile.

Endy couldn’t help herself and she bit at her lips trying to hide her grin too, but when their eyes locked, they both burst out laughing.

“That George is a feisty old dude,” remarked Sebastian. “But you know he’s wrong. I mean, if I were serving for the match and I lost because a ball interrupted me, I’d be pissed.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Endy nodded, remembering the day before when she’d seen Sebastian playing with Collin Park. “But you know what? I’m never going to understand why there is such big hate between tennis players and pickleball players.”

She tilted her head and studied Sebastian. A loud beeping came from a delivery van backing up in the parking lot.

“So,” she asked, “which side are you on?”

Sebastian pursed his lips, his eyes appraising Endy. “Sebastian Hall. Tennis.”

He raised his chin. “You?”

Endy raised one eyebrow. “Endy Andrews. Pickleball.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the golf cart.

Sebastian grinned, then raised both hands and slowly flipped up his middle fingers at Endy. And with that, they both dissolved into laughter.