Hook Shot (Hoops 3)

Even if one of them is a shine-grabbing cheater who shook my hand like I might have crabs. “Your ex seemed suspicious of me, or something.”

He’s about to speak when the server arrives with our food. Kenan attacks the mammoth omelet of egg whites, and I’m not shy about my meal, either.

“Suspicious?” Kenan finally speaks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Maybe. I’m not sure why she thinks she wants me back.”

“Really?” I ask disbelievingly. “You don’t know why she wants a handsome, intelligent, handsome man who—”

“You said handsome twice,” he interjects, grinning.

“Don’t interrupt. A handsome man who’s obviously a good guy? She’s probably kicking herself from here to the moon for being so careless. For losing you.”

“Well if she is, she can keep kicking because there’s no chance.”

“None?” I ask. “What she did killed your love?”

He looks down at his plate and sets his fork aside.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you for some reason.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe he’s telling me this. “I think there was something broken in our marriage long before Bridget cheated on me.”

His look is sad and holds regret.

“I’m not an easy guy to know,” he says with a one-sided grin that goes straight to my heart. “You might not believe that by how I’ve talked your ear off, but I’m not usually this talkative. I’m an introvert. I like to be home. I love my music and to read and to relax. I love my business interests and pour a lot of time into making them successful.”

He takes a long sip of his water before speaking again, and I don’t try to fill the space with words or questions. He needs to tell me these things, and I want to hear them.

“We married straight out of college right after I was drafted into the league,” he says. “My family was well-off growing up, but getting drafted meant money like I’d never seen. Millions and millions of dollars on day one. Maybe Bridget thought we’d have this rock-star lifestyle. That I would suddenly become this guy who wanted the limelight—that I wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of fame—but I don’t care about it.”

“And she does?”

“She does now.” He shrugs. “The saddest part is that I’m not sure she ever really knew me, and I’m pretty sure I never really knew her. Not if Baller Bae is what she’s after.”

His sardonic laugh comes and goes quickly. “We had Simone, but we didn’t have much else in common. My dad tried to tell me. He’s gone now, and I see what a hole it’s left in my mother’s life. They were deeply satisfied with each other. I never had that with Bridget.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling bad for them both, but especially her being married to a man like Kenan and never really knowing him.

“Well, I wouldn’t be sitting here if things hadn’t gone how they did,” he says, sobering when he looks back to me. “And I’m really glad to be here with you.”

“This is not a date,” I blurt.

His sinfully full lips compress against a smile, but he manages not to laugh. “That was a very timely reminder,” he says with false sobriety. “Thank you.”

The server brings our check, and I’m seriously wondering if the whole day will feel like this—like we’re in a pressure cooker. Like I’m boiling under my skin every time he looks at me for more than two seconds.

We stand to leave and the server comes back to the table. He’s already collected the bill, so I’m not sure what else he needs. His smile, hesitant and sheepish, clues me in.

“Mr. Ross,” he says, scrunching his face. “Could I get a selfie? It’ll only take a second.”

I imagine it requires some patience for Kenan, a self-confessed introvert, to deal with this on a regular basis.

“Sure,” he says with a gracious, if somewhat reserved, smile.

I consult the list on my phone for all the things we’re doing today while they take their photo.

“You ready?” Kenan asks once they’re done.

“I think the question is are you ready, Mr. Ross, for all that I’ve got planned?”

While we walk, he puts his hand to my back. I try to ignore the heat of it—ignore the electric storm brewing in the air around us every time we brush against each other on purpose or by mistake. With us, there’s no such thing as a casual touch.