The Grumpy Player Next Door: Copper Valley Fireballs #3

by Grant, Pippa

  She’s more or less leaving me alone, and it’s making everything worse. She’s supposed to flirt with me.

  “Just play a card, dude,” Robinson says to Cooper. I’m at the dining room table with the two of them, plus Luca. We’re surrounded by video lights and camera people, with half the rest of the team watching our game from behind the scattered cameras until it’s their turn to play. All of us are wearing our team jerseys under orders from the marketing director, drinking out of Fireballs-branded water bottles, each holding a single card in our hand until it’s our turn to draw one more from the deck and pick which card to play, and yeah, it feels good to be in uniform again, even if it’s only my shirt.

  I don’t love a lot of things, but I love baseball.

  It’s Cooper’s turn. He’s been studying his two cards for what feels like an hour, even though a round of this game should be done in about the amount of time it takes for a commercial break between innings.

  “It’s not that complicated,” Rossi says. He and his girlfriend are crashing at the inn in town for a week or so, and she’s busy hanging out with the rest of the Lady Fireballs booster club. “You need me to pick? Here. Play that one.”

  He flicks a card.

  Cooper leaps back like Luca’s trying to steal it from him. “Hands off the cards, Rossi. You can pick when it’s your turn.”

  He throws down the other card—Meaty the Meatball, the worst possible mascot choice from last season’s contest, even without the pirate costume he’s wearing on this card—and mutters something as we all read the instructions on the card.

  “What?” Robinson almost shoots out of his seat. “No. I hate that card. Why’d you play that card? Take it back. Play the other one.”

  “I can’t play the other one,” Cooper snaps back.

  I snicker. I’m holding a crap card—the damn Firequacker the Duck card—and I’m more than happy to follow instructions on the card Cooper played and pass Firequacker to Rossi on my left. “Pass your hands, suckers.”

  Cooper snarls too as he hands me the Ash the Baby Dragon card.

  Heh.

  Winning card if I can hold onto it until the draw pile’s gone in another two rounds. Cooper’s right. He couldn’t play that card. He had to play Meaty, or else he would’ve lost.

  And based on Robinson’s reaction to passing the cards, I’m betting Cooper has Fiery now, since it’s the second-highest points card in the deck.

  This game’s both hilarious and easy, and the deck’s small—only fifteen cards or so—which means the game does go quick when you’re not playing with Cooper. I have zero doubt that Brooks Elliott’s wife will be carrying a pack or three around in her purse to challenge random strangers to games all the time.

  And since none of us like to lose, we have side bets going, and we’re all keeping track of who’s winning the most rounds.

  House rules?

  Hell, yeah.

  We’re implementing them next time we play. Like when the cameras aren’t following us.

  I could challenge Tillie Jean to Strip Go, Ash, Go.

  And I’m back to needing to slap myself with a raw steak. Do not think of Tillie Jean naked.

  Belatedly, I realize I shouldn’t involve a baby dragon in sex games.

  And now I’m thinking of Tillie Jean naked again.

  “I’m kicking your butt next game,” Cooper mutters to me.

  “Good luck with that.” I grin like I’m not about to pop a boner over the thought of his sister, and I draw a card to start my turn, then groan.

  It’s the Uncle Thrusty card. I either have to discard Ash—and lose the game, since that’s what happens if I play Ash—or play Uncle Thrusty, mascot for Copper Valley’s hockey team who sometimes visits Duggan Field for mascot shenanigans, and gather everyone’s cards, including my own, shuffle, and deal them back out without looking.

  So much for holding onto Ash.

  I toss down Thrusty, and both Luca and Robinson pump their fists in the air. Cooper snickers too.

  I’d flip them all off, but the cameras are watching.

  “You have Ash, don’t you?” Luca says to me.

  “Not telling.”

  Cooper punches me lightly in the arm as I shuffle the four cards. “That’s my Ash.”

  “Kiss my Ash,” I retort.

  I re-deal, end up with Fiery the Daddy Dragon, and watch my teammates closely to try to figure out who’s holding on to Ash.

  Not Luca. He draws, snickers, and throws down Firequacker.

  “Quaaaaack,” Cooper groans.

  And I crack up.

  Quack up, even.

  Not because I don’t hate the Firequacker card—I do, to the depths of my soul—but it’s nice to see someone else upset that we’re only allowed to speak in quack until the start of Luca’s next turn, or be eliminated from the game.

  Dumbest fucking card ever.

  How do you play when all you can say is quack?

  Not even kidding. That’s the first card getting modified with house rules the minute the cameras are off.

  Something pokes me from behind, and I glance up to see Ash peering over my shoulder.

  Yeah.

  Ash. The baby dragon in the flesh.

  I grin at the mascot. “Hey, baby girl. You wanna walk around the table and flash me a thumbs-up when you see yourself on a card?”

  She shakes her head.

  Shakes her whole body, really.

  And then she rubs her hand all over my head and hugs me.

  Robinson clucks his tongue. “No cheating, Maxy-pants.”

  “You wanna sit, Ash? Come help Uncle Cooper play.” Cooper scoots his chair away from mine. “Lopez, grab Ash a chair.”

  Luca shoots to his feet. “Quack! Yeah, baby! You losers lost first!”

  Robinson groans.

  I groan.

  Cooper gapes. “What? No. That’s not—mother quacker.”

  Luca twerks for the camera, then does some move his grandma made famous on TikTok.

  Dammit.

  He’s right.

  All three of the rest of us talked instead of quacking, since a cute baby dragon distracted us. And that means Luca—the last man left quacking—just won the round.

  “Rematch,” I declare. “Stupid Firequacker card. I hate that card.”

  Ash covers her mouth and mimics laughing.

  I cover my heart and play wounded. “Ash, did you set us up?”

  She nods.

  We all groan again, and the guys on the sidelines crack up.

  “Deal me in. Cooper. You’re out.” Brooks edges in with Spike the Echidna mascot tiptoeing between the cameras behind him, and Francisco Lopez and Emilio Torres pile in too, trailed by Firequacker the Duck and Glow the Firefly.

  Luca takes one look at Glow and grimaces. “Yeah. Take my spot.”

  “Darren, get in here for Max,” Cooper calls.

  I rise, and Ash hugs me. She’s not quite my height, unlike the other mascots, who are about seven feet tall each. “You gonna play a round?” I ask her.

  She giggles.

  I freeze.

  I know that giggle.

  I’m drawn to that giggle.

  I start to smile, then realize Cooper heard it too and is turning a glare that could melt granite my way, which means my only other option is to jerk back out of her grasp.

  Unfortunately, Spike’s right behind me, and I topple into him and we go down.

  “Mascot fight!” Luca yells.

  He grabs a cup of poker chips that we debated using to keep score and tosses them in the air, then turns and fake-punches Firequacker the Duck.

  Glow spins and knocks Luca with his giant ass-ball, making me wonder if it’s Tanesha or Marisol under there. Henri wouldn’t torture Luca with the giant ass-ball. She’s a softie like that.

  Meaty lumbers through between two cameras and bumps into everyone in his path, then sweeps the table, sending cards flying.

  Undoubtedly Mackenzie.

/>   She has experience playing Meaty.

  “Clear the benches!” Cooper yells.

  The cameras back up as the rest of the team comes darting in.

  Ash tries to hug me again. “You have to save Ash, Max,” Tillie Jean says inside the costume. “You have to.”

  “You are a royal pain in the ass.” God, she’s funny. And bright. And funny. And sexy. And yeah, I said funny twice.

  She is.

  So funny.

  “True, but also, you really need to save Ash before Fiery kicks your ass.”

  She’s right, of course. I have to save Ash, and it has nothing to do with the old mascot getting mad if I don’t. Let’s be real. Worst he’ll do is call me out on his Instagram.

  More important—the fans love the new mascot as much as they love the team. Above all else, I can’t disappoint the fans.

  But does she have to be the one inside Ash? Has she been to mascot school? Or—oh, hell.

  Did Mackenzie steal the mascots again? Does management know about this?

  Doesn’t matter.

  What matters is playing hero to the baby dragon.

  Bonus that I get to sweep Tillie Jean off her feet with justification.

  You wanna know how hard it is to scoop a mascot with a giant-ass stubby baby dinosaur tail off her feet?

  It’s awkward as hell.

  But I do it. I sweep the mascot off her feet, and I dash her to the relative safety of the living room while my teammates and the failed mascot contenders make a disaster of Cooper’s dining room.

  Would I dash her to a bedroom instead?

  Yes.

  Yes, I would.

  But fuck, carrying a mascot is awkward. I’d probably smash her into the wall and ruin the mascot head before I got Tillie Jean exactly where I want her.

  “My hero,” she sighs as I set her down.

  I look down at the baby dragon face.

  Legit—I can’t see TJ in there at all—and suddenly I’m cracking up. “Jesus, you drive me insane,” I mutter.

  “That’s what little sisters are supposed to do.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  I’m not having this conversation with her while she’s dressed up like a baby dragon. In a diaper.

  Makes me feel like a total perv.

  “Have you won any rounds?” Tillie Jean asks. “Cooper wouldn’t let me play the game with him last night, but Mackenzie brought extra copies so we got to try it out too. I’m gonna burn that Firequacker card the next time I’m at a bonfire. Did you know Henri has an evil cackle? I did not see that coming. But it’s really fitting that Luca just won with the Firequacker card too. It’s like they’re soulmates even when they don’t know what the other is doing. She’s Meaty, by the way. You would’ve thought Mackenzie would go for Meaty, but nope. She let Henri have Meaty.”

  I leap in front of her as Spike, the echidna, comes darting her way. “Back, Spike. Nobody touches Ash on my watch.”

  “Swoon,” Tillie Jean sighs.

  My dick leaps to attention.

  Unfortunately, at the exact same moment, Addie Bloom walks in from the foyer. She’s our batting coach, and she’s one of the staff out here this winter helping us train. She’s about my age, grew up with brothers, and doesn’t put up with any of our shit.

  Can’t.

  Not if she wants to make it long-term as a coach in the big leagues.

  And don’t let the smirk in her eyes fool you. She might be amused, but she won’t let any of us get away with anything.

  Probably.

  She’s fingering a whistle around her neck, but she’s not blowing it yet.

  “I’m so glad you’re all out here,” Tillie Jean says inside the Ash costume, finishing on a sigh that hits me between my shoulder blades in that spot I can never reach. “Makes me feel like I’m part of the team too. But without all that god-awful exercise.”

  I choke on a laugh. “You have a coffee IV inside that costume, don’t you?”

  “You know it, baby.” She slaps my ass.

  Cooper’s throwing bananas and Nerf balls at the mascots and doesn’t notice, but there’s a camera aimed my way, so I turn and glare at her. “Ash. What would your father say?”

  She wiggles her tail and feigns giggling.

  And once again, I want to pick her up and carry her somewhere else.

  Somewhere private.

  Ask her more about dropping out of school. If she’s the one who did the painting of Duggan Field in Cooper’s man cave downstairs. Why the lights in her spare bedroom are always on at midnight.

  I don’t talk with women.

  I flirt, I screw, I walk away. But I want to know more about Tillie Jean.

  And not because I’m pretending she’s my sister.

  “You should go help remove the problem mascots from the house,” she says.

  I glance over at my teammates.

  Robinson and Francisco are dragging Meaty by the arms, taking the flaming meatball—management’s answer to the Thrusters hockey team’s bratwurst mascot—out of harm’s way.

  Darren and Luca are tag-teaming to throw a Fireballs blanket over Glow’s head.

  Brooks starts a fake fist fight with Spike, proving once again that he’s not afraid of the crazy Australian anteater things.

  And Firequacker the Duck is shaking his butt at everyone else, swinging a foam pool noodle like a sword.

  Don’t ask why management put a duck in the potential mascot lineup.

  You don’t want to know.

  But TJ’s right.

  My teammates and the mascots are all having fun while I’m standing here on the sidelines.

  Is that what I’m doing in all of my life?

  Standing on the sidelines?

  Playing it safe?

  Getting involved just enough to feel like I fit without stretching to where it might hurt?

  Screw this.

  I’m going back into the fun.

  But as soon as I take a single step, Addie blows her whistle.

  I wince and clap my hands over my ears.

  “Fuck, Coach.” Cooper winces, covers his ears, and glares at her while the rest of the team snaps to attention.

  She doesn’t crack a smile. Not that any of us expect her to. “Keep brawling, and you’re all doing burpees all day tomorrow.”

  Firequacker drops to the floor, does a push-up, leaps back to his feet, jumps with his hands up, and drops back down to the ground.

  “She is such a badass,” Tillie Jean whispers.

  I have no idea who’s in that mascot outfit, but I don’t care.

  What I do care about?

  Fun.

  I’m in a friggin’ pirate town in the mountains, with my teammates, a woman who intrigues me, and hardly any responsibilities.

  It’s time to have fun.

  16

  Tillie Jean

  Saturdays with extra friends in town are the best, and I didn’t realize how much I missed all of my Lady Fireballs friends until they arrived in Shipwreck this morning with their significant others—aka half the team. We Lady Fireballs don’t play ball. At least, not all the time. We get in the occasional softball or baseball game for fun. But overall, we support the team with fundraisers and booster club activities and community service.

  I’m the only member not married to or dating a Fireball, and I joined because I love getting into the city at every opportunity, but hate being there alone.

  Also possibly because sometime in the season before last, I came to town for a weekend game, hit the locker room with Tanesha afterwards, and started organizing everyone for heading out to a bar, at which point Max walked past, muttered how nice it was that I did so much for the team and community, and it made me feel so much like a worthless party animal that when the new management re-started the booster club this past season, I was third on the list to sign up, right behind Tanesha and Marisol.

  Not that I’ll tell Max that.

  Mostly, I tell people I’m there
because Cooper takes a lot of ribbing over having his sister on the Lady Fireballs as his significant other.

  Plus, we get to hang out more often when I go to him during the very, very long baseball season, so it’s a win on lots of levels, regardless of my inspiration.

  After crashing the guys’ Fireballs card game with the mascots, we spend the afternoon at my mom’s coffee shop, The Muted Parrot, which is the most aptly named shop in all of Shipwreck.

  Annika and Grady are hanging out with her family in Sarcasm today, which means Georgia’s covering Crow’s Nest. Sloane is volunteering at a flu shot clinic at the county health department. So it’s just my city friends with me, drinking coffee and tea and catching up on all the fun that’s been going on everywhere, from me and my pranks here in Shipwreck to Darren’s wife Tanesha’s latest stories about the baby to Luca’s girlfriend Henri’s stories about a book signing she did at an adorable bookshop in the city that Levi Wilson unexpectedly crashed. He’s one of the hottest pop stars in the world and also brother of the Fireballs’ owner, who are both former Bro Code boy band members.

  Once the guys are done at Cooper’s house, they gradually work their way off the mountain and back down into town, claiming their wives and girlfriends one by one. When the last of them have left, I head home to change into my Grog clothes.

  Boots, jeans, and a fitted sweater.

  But as I pull into my driveway, pointedly not looking at Max’s SUV in the drive next door, I remember the mountain of laundry in my closet. Do I even have clean jeans?

  Huh.

  Guess it’ll either be what I’m wearing—sweatpants and a paint-stained Blue Lagoon County High hoodie—or I need to call Georgia or Sloane and ask to borrow something.

  My eyes drift next door again, and I wonder if Max is home, or if he’s out with the guys.

  Him picking me up while I was in the Ash costume? And then talking to me?

  Not so helpful for this crush problem.

  And since the Scurvy 5K day and the Thanksgiving snowball fight?

  This crush really couldn’t get worse. He nods to me without growling anytime we happen to cross paths. He put the glow-in-the-dark golf ball that I stuck in his Thanksgiving leftover box in my mailbox with a note attached that said Help! I can’t see in the light! And he holds eye contact and says thank you now after I serve him whenever he and the guys come into Crusty Nut for their weekly lunch.