Long Shot (Hoops 1)

I could be there. In the month we’ve been in San Diego, August has offered Sarai and me tickets, but we’ve never gone. They’re still in pre-season, though, and this is an exhibition game. The regular season doesn’t start until the end of this month, and I promise myself I’ll go to some of those games despite the public scrutiny that will inevitably follow if I’m associated with Caleb’s biggest rival.

“I’m glad he’s having a good game.” I smile, because I know he’ll text me after and ask if I watched, and what I thought, and how’d he do.

“Hmmmmmmmm. Look at all that curly hair.” Lo slides a sly glance from the television to me, watching for a response.

I glance up again, and my heart triple times. August stands at the free-throw line. Of course, he makes the shot. He’s a ninety percent free-throw shooter.

“He does have great hair,” I admit neutrally. It’s shorter than when I saw him in Baltimore, when it clung to my fingers like hungry silk, but he was rehabbing then.

“That man is fine,” Lo says. “He could get it.”

My head snaps up and my eyes shoot venom.

/> “There we go!” Lo points to my face and laughs. “About damn time. I’m just trying to gauge if you’re feeling him or not.”

Oh, I’m feeling him. I’m feeling … everything, and it scares me to death.

“So he’s okay with you taking things slow?” Lo probes further.

“Yeah.” An involuntary smile tugs at my lips, and I drop my crayon. “You know he has a Louisiana iris at my desk every morning when I get to work?”

“Well, he’s rich. He can afford to have it delivered.”

“Nope.” I shake my head and suspect I may look dreamy. “On the way to his early morning workouts, he delivers it himself. He even leaves handwritten notes.”

“What do the notes say?”

I shrug, biting my bottom lip and caressing the blue–gray crayon that matches his eyes almost exactly.

“Simple things like I hope you have a good day.” I giggle and feel my cheeks heat up. “Or you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Are we still going slow?

I’d play you at the five.

I can’t wait for our next kiss. Remember our first?

Our first kiss ended with his head between my legs and my best orgasm to date. In a closet, no less. What could August accomplish with a bed?

“We talk about everything,” I continue with a smile. “Work, life, ball. It’s so easy, so natural for us.”

Lotus sits up on the couch, leaning forward and pressing her elbows to her knees.

“He sounds like a great guy. He’s fine as hell.”

“He loves Sarai,” I add with a smile. “Every time he’s in the Elevation building he goes by to see her, even if it’s just for a few minutes. She can’t say his full name, so she calls him Gus. He hates it, but he won’t make her stop.”

“You’ve already fallen for him,” Lo says softly.

Groaning, I flip onto my back, the coloring book abandoned. Of course, I’ve fallen for him. I’m not an idiot. I started falling for him the day we met, and I haven’t stopped falling since.

“That doesn’t change how I need to handle this,” I tell Lo, my eyes fixed to the beamed ceiling in our small house. It’s in a great neighborhood, but our place is small—just the right size for Sarai and me. A tiny square of grass serves as our backyard, and we have a lemon tree that scents the air when we sit outside. There’s a second-hand … okay, third-or fourth-hand car in the driveway, purchased with a little bit of the money MiMi left for Lo and me to split. It’s not much, but it’s all mine.

“When I told you to change your course,” Lo says, bringing me back, her eyes and voice matched for seriousness, “I didn’t just mean find a job. There’s a life out there, girl. You are not just somebody’s mama.”

“And I’m not just somebody’s woman either,” I say curtly. “Believe me. I’ve been that.”

“Don’t let Caleb win, Bo.”