Page 95 of Pickled
“Slowly. I’m analyzing the psychological benefits of cross-training with non-traditional sports.” She grinned and adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. “Guess who my primary case study is?”
“Let me think…a certain hockey captain who discovered pickleball during concussion recovery?”
“Bingo. Speaking of school, how are your classes going?”
“Really good, actually.” I pulled out my phone to show her my latest grades. They were much better than the first time I’d tried college.
“I could help you with your next paper if you want. I’ve been drowning in academic writing for three years now, and I think I’ve finally figured out how to do it.”
“That would be amazing. The statistical analysis section is kicking my ass.”
The games were wrapping up below us. Gideon’s team had won, naturally, and he was doing that thing where he tried to look modest.
“There’s my beautiful wife.” Ace’s voice boomed across the patio as he bounded up the stone steps. He dropped a kiss on Goldie’s head before claiming the chair across from us, reaching immediately for the water pitcher.
“How’d you do?” Goldie asked.
“Got absolutely destroyed by my older brother. The man’s ruthless on any court with a net.”
Gideon appeared moments later, that satisfied grin, the same one he got in the bedroom, spreading across his face as he spotted me. Heat pooled low in my belly. Would I ever not get turned on by his smile? I stood to kiss him, tasting salt on his lips. Even after a year, the man still gave me butterflies.
“Hi, beautiful.” He pulled out my chair for me. As I sat, he whispered in my ear, “I love you.”I turned and mouthed the words back to him.
“Olive, how was your lesson this morning?” He squeezed Olive’s shoulder before dropping into the seat next to me.
“Amazeballs.” She gripped her fancy drink with two hands and took a sip. “I might make the tournament team when I turn seven.”
“That is amazeballs,” Gideon replied.
Before he could continue, Izzy and Kensie materialized at our table. Designer-clad vultures, they were. Since I’d gotten together with Gideon, they’d been nice to me and determined I was worthy of their gossip circle.
It was a club that I had no desire to join.
“Gideon.” Around us, other diners paused their conversations to eavesdrop. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you thought about my proposal?”
She’d cornered him last week about setting up some of the racket club women to play matches with his players, but we all knew what they really wanted.
“Sorry, Kensie.” Gideon draped his elbow over the back of his chair. “The team sessions are Barracuda only.”
“Pity.” Izzy examined her nails. “Who’s the new guy? The tall one with the dark hair?” She gestured toward the courts, where the players were packing up their gear.
“That’s Morgan. He’s not a member; he can only play during the Barracuda time slot.” He shot down the chance of the woman playing with the rookie before they could even ask.
“Is the blond one married?” She pointed at Jameson, who was currently being eye-fucked by half the women on the patio.
“Very.” Gideon’s patience was wearing thin; the muscle in his jaw twitched. My boyfriend was done with the conversation.
“Speaking of married men.” Kensie leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Have you heard about Chelsea and Preston?”
I didn’t want to participate in their games, but getting them to spill their gossip was the fastest way to make them leave. “What about them?”
“Caught in the equipment shed last week. By his wife.” Kensie’s eyes gleamed with delight. “Poor Catherine finally has proof of what everyone’s been whispering about for months.”
These women would cannibalize their own friends for entertainment. “What’s going to happen to Chelsea?”
“Divorce papers were filed yesterday. She’s losing her membership and half her assets.” Izzy’s voice held no sympathy. “Play with fire, get burned.”
The ladies drifted away toward their next victims, leaving stunned silence in their wake.
