Not anymore.
41
August
Damn, my head hurts.
That’s what happens when Jolly the Big Ass Giant elbows you in the head.
My own teammate sidelined me. Not that it was Kenan’s fault. We were both going after the rebound and collided. He feels like shit and will probably come by as soon as the game is over. I’d love to be gone before then, but it’s not happening. “Concussion” is never anybody’s favorite word. I don’t need to be in the hospital, but I get it. When your whole body’s insured and a team pays you millions, they tend to take precautions. That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to go home.
I check my phone. No calls from Iris. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t watching the game. Or maybe she and Lotus, who’s visiting from New York, took Sarai to that park up the street. My finger is poised over her contact when the nurse pokes her head in.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. West.”
“No problem.” I force a smile. “What’s up?”
“You have a visitor,” she says with a grin. “A pretty brunette.”
My heartbeat picks up, but I try not to look all overeager and shit. “Please send her in.”
I adjust the bed to a sitting position as the door eases open and a dark head peeks in. But the hair isn’t long and hanging in thick coils. It’s a bone-straight bob, and her golden skin glows from her afternoon tennis practice.
“Pippa,” I say, my tone flat and disappointed even to my own ears. “Come on in.”
“Don’t sound so happy to see me.” Pippa walks in and sits on the bed beside me.
“Sorry.” I rearrange my features into a pleased expression, though my face feels like wax. “Just the concussion probably.”
“I know.” She takes my hand and scoots a little closer on the hospital bed. “I saw.”
“I didn’t realize you were here in San Diego.” I want to pull my hand back, but I’ll give her a few minutes. We are friends.
“I was meeting with the team at Elevation.” She smiles brightly. “I’m signing.”
“That’s awesome.” I squeeze her hand. “Jared and company will take care of you.”
“And what about you?” Her voice drops, taking on a husky tone. “Will you take care of me, too?”
“Uh …” Is there a diplomatic way to say hell no?
“I’m here for the rest of the week. Maybe we can get together before I leave.”
“Uh …” I must have a concussion because I haven’t said more than “uh’ in the last two minutes. “Sure. Why not?” In my head, I hear Jared pimping me out at least for drinks until we have her signature on the dotted line.
She leans closer so her blouse droops, and I see the curve of her breasts. Don’t get me wrong—Pippa’s got a great body. She’s one of the top tennis players in the world. And the sex was good, but her light floral scent is all wrong. Her hair is jet black, missing the burnished streaks. Her lips are thin, not full and pouty and pink. She’s beautiful and just right for someone, but she’s not Iris. So she’s not right for me.
The door opens again, and another dark head peers around the corner. This is the one I was hoping for.
“Iris.” Everything brightens—the room, my voice, my smile, and I feel Pippa’s regard sharpen on my face. “Come on in.”
“Oh, I …” She flicks a glance between Pippa and me, darting down to our clasped hands on the hospital bed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I snatch my hand from Pippa, and she looks at me, wearing hurt on her face. I haven’t given Pippa any reason to think we’ll be anything again. I need to be kind, but clear that we are not happening.
“You’re not interrupting.” I gesture to the other side of the bed. “Come on and sit down.”
She walks over to the bed with dragging steps, glancing at Pippa’s expensive clothes and the shiny diamond studs in her ears. Pippa is gorgeous. Of Asian descent, her dark hair falls straight to frame the high slant of her cheekbones. She’s beautiful, but she’s not my Iris.