by Pippa Grant
We’re lined up along the baselines, with Tripp and Lila and their kids at a podium at second base, the stands full of fans who were given free tickets to come and meet the newest official member of the Fireballs team. Lila’s speaking about what this town has come to mean to her since she inherited the team a year ago, and I’m getting as antsy as Mackenzie on my other side. She and Brooks brought along their dog, who’s being very well-behaved despite how every single minute feels like it’s taking twenty-six years.
Henri squeezes my hand. “It’ll be over soon, and whatever happens, I’ve got your back,” she whispers.
Mackenzie leans around me to peer at her. “I don’t know if I can take another hour of this. I just need to go somewhere and cry.”
“It’s not over,” Brooks murmurs. “You have too much blackmail material on all the mascots now. I don’t care how much gray hair they put on Fiery. They’ll have to bring him back.”
“I’ve been writing mascot porn between helping with Elsa’s kids,” Henri whispers. “Like, porn written by the mascots. Glow’s story is especially offensive, and you’ll never believe who Meaty gets it on with. If your blackmail material isn’t enough, I’ve got phase two ready to launch.”
“She’s truly terrifying, Luca,” Mom murmurs. “I approve.”
Nonna turns and grins at me. “Did I ever tell you how hard I laughed when you put out that fire on my ziti?”
“What? No!” Henri gasps.
Then she claps both hands over her mouth while Lila pauses and looks at us, and it’s clear the Fireballs’ owner heard her.
Possibly half the stands did too, since Lila’s staring straight at Henri as she continues. “It’s true. I never considered selling the Fireballs, despite what you might have heard.”
Max starts coughing on my other side. Brooks has to turn around while he gets his snickers under control.
“I’d laugh at that but I’m too close to crying,” Mackenzie whispers once Lila picks back up with what was clearly her original speech. “Is this supposed to feel like a funeral?”
“You are my hero,” Mackenzie’s dad says to Henri. “She should’ve sold the team if all she was going to do was replace Fiery.”
“She also invested heavily in coaches, talent, and the city to save the team from being shut down by the commissioner,” her papa points out.
“Tomato eggplant.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And that’s why you love me.”
“I love you,” I whisper to Henri as I loop my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on her head, which is covered with my old Fireballs hat from that fateful day when she got attacked by birds.
And now I’m smiling again.
Life with Henri is amazing.
“Yep,” Nonna says. “Laughed my tuckus off, because I knew.”
“I like you, Irene, but you’re being annoying,” Mom tells her.
“That’s not nice,” Jerry chides Nonna, then shrinks as Nonna eyes him.
And that’s why Henri and I keep looking at real estate in the country.
So we can build the Mom-and-Nonna Ho-mance house on the far, far edge of a large goat farm.
Plus, lots of land to bury Jerry if he breaks my mom’s heart.
And I’m adding an extension to my house in my original Copper Valley neighborhood, because Elsa and her kids aren’t moving back to California, and if Henri wants to help her sister get back on her feet, then that’s what I’ll help Henri do.
“One last thing before we meet our new mascot,” Lila says. “All of Copper Valley owes a special thank you to Mackenzie Montana-Elliott, who is, without a doubt, our biggest cheerleader. We had hundreds of write-in votes for a Mackenzie mascot, but we could never replace her for being exactly who she is, bad aim and everything.”
“Ohmygosh, that’s amazing,” Henri says as the entire ballpark erupts in cheers and whistles for Mackenzie, who bursts into the tears she’s been holding back, turns, and buries her face in Brooks’s chest.
He flashes Lila a thumbs-up.
And we all keep cheering, because Mackenzie’s earned it.
Lila waits until the noise has almost died down, and then she signals someone in the visitors’ dugout.
Appropriate, considering Firequacker became a contender when a real duck attacked her there not long after she took possession of the team.
Long story.
Spike the Echidna emerges, followed by Meaty the Meatball, then Glow—shudder—and finally, the duck himself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it was a hard-fought battle this year,” Lila says. “Firequacker, you will forever hold a special place in my heart because of the inspiration for your existence. Spike, we’re so proud of you for introducing so many people to your namesake from Australia, and we’re also proud to announce that the Copper Valley Zoo will be adding an echidna display next spring for further education. Meaty, you’ve brought us hours and hours of joy with your travels and exploits. And Glow, we’ve been so pleased to feature a mascot of such high character who stands for the belief that everyone is valuable, no matter the number of arms they have or the size of their pants.”
“Ohmygod, is she picking all of them?” Mackenzie moans. “She is, isn’t she? I can’t take this for another year.”
“You won’t be alone,” Henri assures her. “We’ve got your back. And I haven’t even begun to put all my good brain cells to use on this problem.”
How could I not love this woman?
She’s unstoppable.
Lila eyeballs us again like she knows exactly what we’re thinking, takes a deep breath, and then it happens.
A slow gasp rolls through the entire ballpark.
The hairs on my arms stand up on end, and I can feel Henri’s arms sprouting goosebumps too.
She goes up on tiptoe as it becomes obvious people in the stands are pointing to the outfield.
But to where?
The bullpen entrance? The stands?
“Fiery?” Mackenzie gasps.
“I can’t see.” Henri’s twisting this way and that. So are Mom and Nonna and Jerry in front of her.
I yank Jerry’s collar and make him stand behind us.
“Right. Sorry. Sorry, Luca. Sorry, Henri,” he mutters.
“No way!” Francisco yells from the first baseline.
Marisol shrieks and turns to leap into Emilio’s arms, but not before flashing us the biggest thumbs-up.
Lila’s smiling so brightly, she’s making me nervous.
“Mascots,” she says, “it’s been a pleasure having you at Duggan Field this year, but it turns out, Fiery had one last surprise he hadn’t told us about before his announced retirement.”
The scoreboard screen flickers to life, and—
“Is that an egg?” Mom asks.
Holy shit.
It is.
It’s a giant egg, scaly and orange, and it’s leaping up and down.
“What? All this fuss about mascots and they’re going to bring in a chicken at the last minute?” Nonna shrieks.
We all ignore her, because it’s obvious what’s going on.
“Ohmygosh, baby dragon,” Henri whispers.
“Baby dragon,” Mackenzie echoes.
“Baby dragon,” the crowd murmurs.
The shell breaks free, and a small, chubby, adorable baby version of Fiery bursts forth at the same time that the doors to the bullpen in the outfield open fully, revealing what half the crowd has apparently already glimpsed.
A baby dragon, racing in from the outfield.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Copper Valley,” Lila says, “meet Fiery’s daughter, Ash, the official new mascot of the Fireballs.”
“Luca. Luca. Can we get a baby dragon? Please?” Henri turns, and her eyes are leaking again, but hell, so are mine.
Hard not to when Mackenzie’s sobbing next to us. “Baby dragon! Ohmygod, baby dragon!”
Ash starts her victory lap by sticking her fingers in her ears an
d wiggling them at the other mascots, then trots to first base for high fives and fist bumps from the entire Fireballs family.
“Did you know?” I ask Brooks, who’s also wiping his eyes.
He shakes his head. “Not a damn clue. Glad management isn’t as dumb as I was afraid they were.”
Ash rounds home plate and heads for Max, whom she tackles in a massive hug. He pats her back and shakes his head, but I know he’s enjoying himself. Mom gets a high five. Nonna gets a hip-bump that’ll undoubtedly end up on TikTok before the day’s over. Henri gets a full-body hug. “Ohmygosh, I love you,” she squeals. “Welcome to the Fireballs. We’re so glad to have you!”
I get a two-handed high-ten, and then Ash moves on to Mackenzie.
The new mascot spreads her chubby baby arms, and if there’s a dry eye in the ballpark as Mackenzie latches on to that dragon, I’ll eat my cleats.
“Eat your vegetables and exercise every single day so you can grow big and strong and one day be as big as your dad but never have to retire, okay?”
Coco Puff barks, and his collar yells an excited, “I love you so much! We should always be friends!”
And Mackenzie hugs the mascot, and hugs the mascot, and hugs the mascot, until we hear Brooks mutter, “If she shits that diaper because you won’t let go, you’re cleaning it up.”
She cracks up.
Henri wags a finger at him, but she’s laughing too. “You be nice, or I’ll make you change real diapers.”
Lila leans back into the microphone as Ash finishes her victory lap. “Fiery has graciously agreed to act as Ash’s mentor. While he’s unable to continue fulfilling all the duties a mascot should, he loves the Fireballs deeply and wants to see his little girl succeed. Firequacker, Spike, Glow, and Meaty, we invite you to stay at Duggan Field as long as it takes for you to find new teams.”
Henri gasps in outrage. “Oh, no, she didn’t. She really is picking all of them! You know no other team will hire them after everything they’ve done here this year. They’re too Fireball-ish.”
Mackenzie starts to gasp too, but it turns into a laugh. “Bring it. Next year is going to be so much fun.”
It will.
And I’ll still be here, with the Fireballs, for all of it.
With Henri by my side.
We might never get formally married, but I’ve been saying vows of my own to her every day.
You make my life brighter.
I didn’t know what it was to live off the field until you.
I will always make the effort to love you.
It’s odd to know that the one gift I can give her is to not propose, but it doesn’t change the fact that there will never be another woman that I will love the way I love my Henri.
She’s real. She’s funny. She’s heart to her core.
She’s not only the reason I believe in love now.
She is love.
And she’s my world.
Dear Reader,
Thanks for reading! If you want a super special bonus epilogue, then I have good news for you! Click here to download your copy and eek just a little bit more time in with Luca and Henri (and Dogzilla!). As a bonus, you’ll get an opportunity to subscribe to the Pipster Report, which is basically so much fun that it should be illegal.
If you’re the awesome type of person who likes to leave reviews, here are quick linkies for you to Amazon and Goodreads. And keep reading for a sneak peek at Flirting with the Frenemy, which will take you back in time to the start of the Pippaverse!
If you’re curious about that crazy little town where REAL FAKE LOVE opened, the one with the wedding cake monument, I wrote a seven-book series set there when I was writing as Jamie Farrell. You can find book 1 of the Misfit Brides here. And you can find book 4 here. (I mention it since it’s a reader favorite.)
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you had as much fun with Luca and Henri as I did.
Hugs and cookies,
Pippa
Keep in touch with Pippa Grant!
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Other books by Pippa Grant:
Copper Valley Fireballs Series
Jock Blocked
Real Fake Love
The Thrusters Hockey Series
The Pilot and the Puck-Up
Royally Pucked
Beauty and the Beefcake
Charming as Puck
The Bro Code Series
Flirting with the Frenemy
America’s Geekheart
Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire
Visit Pippa’s website at www.pippagrant.com for the most up-to-date book list, suggested series reading order, and more.
Sneak Peek at Flirting with the Frenemy!
Love enemies to lovers with a history, brother’s best friend, and military single dads? (Swoon!! I do!!) Keep reading for a sneak peek at Flirting with the Frenemy, which has all that and more!
Ellie Ryder, aka a woman in need of more than ice cream to fill the hole in her heart
When I rule the world, peppermint crunch ice cream will be available all year long, because assholes who break people’s hearts don’t restrict their assholery and heart-breaking to Christmas.
Unless, apparently, they’re my asshole.
Check that.
My former asshole.
I stab my spoon straight into the cold carton that I grabbed at the store on the way here and ignore the twinkling holiday cheer on my parents’ gigantic tree in the living room. It’s late, so I didn’t tell them I was coming over, but I don’t want to spend one more night at my house this week.
Alone.
Sleeping in the bed where Patrick screwed me—and then screwed me over—just two nights ago.
Merry Christmas, Ellie. I’m in love with my neighbor.
I leave them a note taped to the coffee pot to let them know I’m here, then stomp down the stairs—softly, so I don’t wake them—and turn the corner into the rec room, where I pound the light switch up.
And then almost scream.
There’s a lump of a man sprawled on the couch watching a black-and-white movie, and as soon as the lights go on, he winces and throws his arm over his eyes. “Christ,” he snarls.
My heart backpedals from the precipice where it was about to leap, then surges into a furious beat all over again. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Wyatt Morgan drops his arm and squints at me. “Oh, good. It’s Ellie. Drop in to rub some salt in the wound?”
I inhale another bite of ice cream while I glare at him, because I didn’t ask him to be here, and he’s scowling just as hard as I’m glaring. “Beck’s place is downtown. Go get drunk there.” Even as the words leave my mouth, guilt stabs me in the lung.
Not the heart, because first, I’d have to like my brother’s best friend for my heart to be affected, and second, because I’m not sure I have a heart left.
I’m in a shit-tastic mood—who dumps their girlfriend on Christmas Eve?—but even in the midst of my own pity party, I know why Wyatt’s sitting in my parents’ basement, stewing himself in beer and watching It’s a Wonderful Life.
He doesn’t even roll his eyes at my order to get out.
“Beck’s having a party,” he informs me. “Didn’t want to go. Guess you weren’t invited. Or you prefer to add to the shit pile here.”
He tips back his beer, and another guilt knife attacks me, this time in the liver.
It’s entirely possible he has bigger problems than I do. I lost a boyfriend that I’ll probably acknowledge soon enough—for real, not just in a fit of anger—that I’m better off without.
The courts just handed Wyatt a final divorce decree that means he only gets to see his kid once a month.
If he travels five hundred miles to do it every time.
“Shove it, Morgan,” I tell him. “I don’t kick a man when he’s down.”
“Since when?”
“Oh, please. Like you can talk.”
It’s been like this since we were kids. My brother’s childhood best friend is the only man in the entire universe who can get under my skin and bring out my ugly faster than you can blink, and I swear he takes joy in doing it.
A ninety-five on your math test, Ellie? Why not perfect?
Nice shot, but you’re still down by eight.
Who taught you to hold a pool cue, a blind monkey?
And damn if all that taunting didn’t make me try harder every fucking time.
Because when he wasn’t taunting me, he was the first one holding out a hand to pull me off the pavement or out of the mud when I inevitably got trampled trying to keep up with Beck and his friends in soccer, street hockey, basketball, and whatever else I swore I was big enough to do with them.
He eyeballs my breasts, and my whole body lights up like the Christmas lights all over downtown.
“You gonna eat that whole carton?” he asks, and fuck, he’s not looking at my chest.
He’s looking at my ice cream, and here I am, getting turned on at the idea that he’s finally noticed I’m a woman.
I have issues.
I fling myself onto the couch next to him. “It’s loser ice cream, so yeah, I am,” I grumble. “Here. Have a bite, you drunk asshole.”
Those gray eyes connect with mine, and dammit, that’s straight lust pooling in my belly.
He’s sporting a thick five-o’clock shadow, and even sprawled out on the worn flowery couch in my parents’ basement, he exudes power and masculinity in a way I never would’ve expected from the skinny pipsqueak peeking out from behind his grandmother’s legs on the front porch twenty-some years ago.
Or maybe it’s the tight black T-shirt, with his biceps testing the limits of the cotton and detailing his trim stomach, even sitting down, and the gray sweatpants hinting at a more substantial package than I ever would’ve given him credit for.
