Page 1 of Tequila Tuesdays

Chapter 1

Bendingover,Irestedmy hands on my knees, heaving in and out. Sweat dripped off my chin. I glanced through the volleyball net at the opposing team and was relieved to see they also looked winded.

It was time to substitute Jaime out. He was so tired, he’d shanked his last two serves.

“Frankie, you’re in,” I called. “Jaime needs to catch his breath. And do a little cardio once in a while.”

Jaime had a handsome tan face, jet-black hair, and a big white smile. He also hated exercise. Frankie was in her early twenties. She had long dark brown hair and a slight build. From the back, it was hard to tell whether she’d hit puberty yet.

Flashing me a shit-eating grin, Jaime made smoochy kisses as he walked backward off the court. Tattoos climbed up his neck, and gang symbols covered his knuckles.

“I love you too, Harley!” Jaime yelled.

I shook my head. “Do some cardio.”

My palms still rested on my knees, and I flipped him off by tucking in all but my middle fingers. He smiled even wider.

I stood up and waved Frankie in to replace him. She stared at me with wide eyes like I’d lost my damn mind. Frankie usually flinched whenever the ball came near her, but by some miracle, she served these beautiful, unpredictable floaters. The opposing team usually had to scramble to figure out where her serves were going to land.

The score was tied at fifteen all. I was hot, tired, and annoyed. If my old college coach could see me now, he’d chew me out for my sorry state.

I was sweating everywhere—under my boobs, down my back. Even my kneecaps were wet. My entire team was a pathetic, tired mess. But they weremypathetic mess, by God.

Strands of sweaty hair clung to my neck. Before every match, I braided my long wavy blonde hair into thin braids, then pulled them back in a high ponytail. It was the best way I knew to keep my hair out of my face, and I thought it looked intimidating.

We’d gotten the ball back after Jaime had subbed out, and Josh was up to serve. Josh sported thick black gauges in his ears, and his face was pocked with scars. I’d been able to teach Josh enough to get the ball over the net, but he didn’t have a strong serve. The opposing players shifted around intently, ready to take advantage.

The one I’d secretly labeled “Dimples” grinned at me through the net. He was tall, muscular, and confident. And he had a distracting dimple in his cheek. His thick, dark blond hair looked like he combed it with his fingers.

He was also a competitive bastard, and his team was good. It took everything I had, and maybe a few underhanded tricks, to sometimes squeak out a win.

One of their players who looked like an ex-football player and had a wicked serve, straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“All right, you lazy assholes,” he called to his team. “If we keep this up, it’ll be dinner time before we get done with this match.”

“Yeah, and what Valkyrie over there said about cardio goes for a few of you.” Dimples looked around. “Not you, Johanna.”

Johanna smiled and preened a little. “Thanks, Damien.”

Her perfect hair and makeup, and her expensive volleyball outfit, made her look like she was modeling athletic clothing instead of sweating through a city rec league volleyball game. I wore generic spandex shorts and a sports bra under my jersey that I’d probably owned in high school.

Dimples and his huge friend had tried to recruit me when I first started playing in the league, but I quickly shot them down. My team wasn’t typical, and they were here for reasons that went beyond winning.

Dimples stood on the other side of the net, looking me up and down. “You’ve put up an impressive fight, Val. But you’re playing with a team who looks like you rounded them up in a Walmart parking lot.”

My eyes narrowed and I straightened. “Walmart parking lot?” I repeated slowly.

He nodded. “And you’re looking slow and tired. I don’t think you’re gonna be able to pull a rabbit out of your ass this time.”

Last season he and his large friend had started calling me Valkyrie, I assumed after one of the blonde Viking war goddesses, and then Val for short. It wasn’t the first time someone had given me a nickname, and I’d heard a lot worse. What Dimples didn’t understand is that I thrived on smack talk. It was a sweet rush of adrenaline to my system.

What hereallydidn’t understand is my “Walmart parking lot” team had more grit and determination than any team I’d ever played with. I went from annoyed and tired to furious and laser focused. No one fucked with my team.

I stood up straight and looked him in the eye. “Watch me.”

Nodding at Josh to serve the ball, I bent my knees and got ready to play. He served it underhand to make sure it got over the net. The ball went to Johanna on the other side who bumped it from the back row. Her bump was too close to the net to give their setter a chance to get under it, so Dimple’s friend tipped it over onto our side. Right to Frankie.

“Move,” I clipped as Frankie squeaked and instinctively got out of my way.

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