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PROLOGUE - JULIUS RAMON (ZAMBONI DRIVER)
IN HOCKEY, PICKLEBALL COMES FIRST
Atruly great hockey coach once told me: “Great opportunities come to those who make the most of small ones.”
And when it comes to Rock Stevens, Center for the Wilcox Wombats, I feel like he knows what this means. Even if he probably can’t articulate it. The guy is charming, intelligent, and one hell of a center. He’s a star for good reason. But he’s not necessarily the best talker.
I’ve been watching him on the ice since he came to the Wombats with something to prove. And while it’s not my place to say it, he’s made great strides.
Now if someone could just rack down that ego a few notches... he wouldn’t just be great. He’d have the potential to be phenomenal.
But first... pickleball.
CHAPTER1
DREA
THE FUTURE IS DRUNK
"I'm telling you, it's the only answer." Paige Whitehead nodded her head emphatically as she put her beer down a little too hard on the tabletop, liquid sloshing over her hand as she fixed me with a penetrating, if slightly glassy, stare.
"There is no world in which having my future told by a notorious drunk is an answer to anything." I shook my head, glad I'd volunteered to be the designated driver tonight. Paige was listing to one side on her stool.
April righted her sister-in-law with a gentle shove to her shoulder. "Maybe it's not the actual answer, but it can't hurt, can it? And it could be fun." She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, her pretty blue eyes gleaming.
I sighed and felt my shoulders slump. "Why am I so pathetic?" It was hard to sit here with my friends, feeling so completely alone while I knew each of them would go home to the man of their dreams. They were so stinking happy it was hard not to be jealous. But they were my friends, and even if I was a little envious of the happiness they'd found, mostly, I was glad for them. I just wanted the same thing. Was that too much to ask?
"Drea, she's legendary," Paige said.
"She's known as the drunken psychic of Center County," I reminded Paige. "I'm not sure that's the kind of legend I need right now."
"But everyone says she's legit," April shrugged. "Like I said, can't hurt."
"Okay, let's play it out," I said, taking a second to sip my wine. "We go over to see the drunken psychic. She reads my cards. What in the world can she possibly tell me that will magically solve this for me?"
Both of my friends gave me blank looks over the tabletop.
I waited, and when neither answered, I sighed again and cast my gaze around the interior of Straddler's, the bar we hung out at whenever we had a chance. It wasn't a regular occurrence since both April and Paige had gotten married recently, and we all had busy jobs.
The handsome bartender, Wade, met my eyes and gave me a little salute, so I smiled back at him. "Why couldn't he be single?" I muttered, sending two more sets of eyes toward the bar to stare at Wade.
"He is hot," April agreed.
"So hot," Paige said. "But Ronnie's nice too."
Veronica, or Ronnie, was Wade's fiancée.
"I'm literally the last single person in Singletree." I was feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn't help it.
Paige began to giggle. "Single in Singletree."
"Yes, it's hilarious," I agreed. "You're cut off, by the way."
"Nooo," she complained. But then she straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Yes. That is very responsible. Good."
I thought she'd sobered up in a hurry, but then she melted again into a pile of giggles.
"It's good you don't have to work tomorrow," April told her. "I can only imagine how that would go."
