Page 27 of Pickled
“I think that you’re describing a unicorn or Gerry.” I laughed and took a drink from my water bottle, cleansing the fresh-cut-grass taste from my palate.
Lisa shrugged. “He isn’t the only good man out there. Youcanhave it all, Pipes. Now, tell me more about this guy.”
Gideon’s strong forearms flashed in my mind. I blinked to get the roped muscles from my brain. “All I will say is that it’s not going to happen again.”
“Hold on.” Lisa held up her hands. “I get that you’re not looking for a relationship, but we all have needs. Why don’t you enjoy this mystery bedroom king for a while?”
“I’m sure he would love being called a bedroom king.” Gideon hid a lot of smiles, but his eyes always gave him away. I could imagine the crinkles beside those brown eyes if I ever called him the Bedroom King.
“He was that good?”
“I think I left my body at one point.” I giggled. “Have you ever had three orgasms in one night?”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “Yes, but not in at least twelve years. Pipes, you have to go back for more. And what if this guy decides he wants to give you triple O’s for the rest of your life?”
“Oh.” I cut the air with my hand in an “absolutely not” gesture. “This guy is not the marrying kind.”
“Did he say that?”
I shook my head. “Not in so many words. He’s focused on his career right now. And I’m not really his type.”
Lisa furrowed her brow so hard I worried it would leave permanent lines between her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“I mean, I just…” I was flustered. Lisa wouldn’t understand. “He’s really successful, and I’m… not.”
“Stop,” she almost shouted. “Don’t you do that. You’re a catch, Piper Jones. He’d be a fool not to see it.”
The sliding door grumbled open. “Mom, are you ready to go yet?” Preteen irritation hung in Ariana’s voice as she leaned out of the house.
Lisa rolled her eyes, then turned to face her daughter. “I was ready twenty minutes ago.”
“Madison’s mom called. They’re in Aspen for the week, so Gabby doesn’t have a partner today.”
“Shit.” Lisa narrowed her lips. “Nikki is always traveling. Now poor Gabby has to play with the older kids.” She gathered her water bottle and smoothed her tennis skirt. “Wait, I have an idea. Do you want to come with us?”
“To the courts?”
“No, to the ice rink.” Lisa laughed and pulled me up from the chair. “Come on, Olive told us about the boxes of tennis trophies she found in your garage. You can play with us, and Olive can take Madison’s spot in the kids’ camp.”
“I… It’s been years since I’ve picked up a racket,” I stammered. “I don’t think I’d be any good.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, and don’t worry, I’ve got an extra paddle for you.”
I followed Lisa, trying to think of another excuse. The idea of the finest instructors teaching Olive overtook the self-conscious tennis player in me. Even if I put her on the waiting list today, by the time her name rolled to the top, she’d probably have already gotten her period. A good mom wouldn’t say no to this opportunity. “Fine. But don’t expect Serena Williams out there.”
“I’m sure you’ll pick it up like it was yesterday.” Lisa disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a stack of clothes. “Here.” She shoved the clothes into my arms and shouted with the authority of a drill sergeant. “Girls, let’s go. Olive, you’re coming to the club with us.”
An excited squeal came from the basement, and the two five-year-olds thundered up the stairs. When I saw their huge grins, I knew that I’d made the right decision. I’d embarrass my varsity tennis star self every day of the week if it brought a smile like that to my daughter’s face.
Lisa continued to bark orders. “Gabby, go get Olive an outfit to wear.”
Olive got suited up, and I slid into the tennis skirt and matching top. Olive and Gabby were basically the same size; Lisa and I were definitely not. “This is slightly obscene.” I stepped out of the bathroom and gestured to my chest. “My boobs might fall out. I don’t think this is Azalea Bay appropriate.”
“No, it’s perfect. You never know who might be on the courts.” She disappeared into the entryway closet. “It’s Florida—everyone’s got their tits out.” Her voice was muffled as she tossed a couple of backpacks from the depths of the closet. When she emerged, she handed Olive and me a couple of big ping-pong paddles. “What’s this?” I patted my hand with the bright green thing. “I thought we were playing tennis.”
“Tennis?” Ariana furrowed her brow at her mom. “Are we playing tennis today?” Her eyes welled with tears.
She squeezed her daughter. “No, we’re not playing tennis today, but I knew Piper wouldn’t come if she knew that we were playing pickleball.”
