“Brother, I’m always fucking with you.” Rafe smirked. “Relax. We’ve got this.”
Easton rolled his eyes before turning to Wren. “You get it. I’m counting on you to lead your team.”
Lead her team?
“Um, are you referring to the team of two? Her and me?” I asked over my laughter.
“Yes. See, this is all fun and games to you. You’re laughing, and I need someone who is taking this seriously to lead each team.”
“There’s no laughing in pickleball, remember?” Rafe said, oozing sarcasm.
“Let’s just say that I’ll be leading our team,” Easton said with a smirk.
“Clark, you’re in charge of keeping the grump from losing his temper.”
“You do know that the people you’re talking about can hear you, right?” Bridger hissed.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. Lose the attitude, B.”
Bridger flipped him the bird, just as the whistle blew and we all made our way out to the assigned courts.
Wren did a few quick stretches, and the girls were all whistling and cheering for her. She waved before stepping closer. “So these are the Wilcox brothers, and you think they’re our biggest competition of the day?”
“They definitely hate us more than any other team,” I said with a laugh. I’d played them many times, won more than lost, but they were good, no doubt about it.
“I see you brought in a ringer, or maybe she’s just supposed to distract us with those long, sexy legs?” Barry Wilcox said, and a deep growl left my throat.
This motherfucker was barking up the wrong tree.
“Ahhh… I see misogyny is not dead,” Wren said as she bounced the ball a few times. “Just know that these long, sexy legs are also very capable of kicking you in the balls.”
Barry and Steven both laughed.
“And she’s a firecracker, too,” Steven said.
“She claims she can kick a ball, but can she hit one with her paddle?” Barry taunted.
I knew Wren well enough to know she wouldn’t find this funny.
“I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?” She got in position. “Zero, zero, start.”
And she fired a ball at Barry, nailing him in the upper thigh because he didn’t move quick enough to get out of the way.
“The fuck!” he howled.
“You’re supposed to hit the ball, not stop it with your leg.” She chuckled.
She turned to me, we tapped paddles, and I winked at her.
They finally returned a serve after she’d scored four points, and they’d definitely quieted down. Wren was focused, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail, as she hustled around the court.
The next forty minutes were heated, but the Wilcox brothers never made another sexist comment again, and we managed to win all three games.
“Wait, aren’t you the famous horse rider?” Steven asked as we walked off the courts to get some water.
“She’s the best in the world, actually,” I said proudly, and Wren acted completely unfazed.
“Well, that’s not fair,” Barry grumped as Easton walked over to us. “You brought a professional athlete to the championships?”
