King of the Court

My moment of hesitation seems to last forever, but it’s only a second before I shake my head.

“Who?” I ask with a confused frown.

“Ben Castillo. He’s one of the basketball guys. The Olympian.”

“I have no earthly idea who that is,” I say with a shrug. “Now can I get you a coffee or a stack of pancakes? They’re our specialty. The pancakes, not the coffee. The coffee’s barely potable.”

The men share a hardy laugh at my expense, looking at one another like, Get a load of this girl.

I hold my breath. This is when they’ll reveal their cards if they have any up their sleeves. This is when the first guy will turn to me, level me with a stare, and tell me to cut the shit.

Instead, he pockets his phone and picks up one of the diner menus.

“Oh well. Pancakes, you said? Give me a short stack, please. And a cup of that coffee.”

A second day passes without Ben coming into the diner, and I convince myself I’m glad for it. I reexamine everything he said to me when he showed up unannounced at my trailer, and I double down in my feelings that he was out of line and intrusive and arrogant. I wonder how he would have reacted if I had dug into his past like that.

Angry with him or not, I still notice his absence, which only annoys me more.

I’m wiping down the counter toward the end of my shift at Dale’s when a heavy Louis Vuitton duffle bag gets slung right onto the spot I was about to clean. I freeze and glance up to find a beaming Leanna staring back at me. Her black hair is long and straight. Her dark skin is so flawless it looks airbrushed.

“Hey, Birdie.”

I roll my eyes at the familiar name.

“What? It’s a cute name. I heard Ben use it when he was talking to Trey about you.”

I narrow my gaze on her. “Why was Ben talking to Trey about me?”

Her smile widens. “I think you know why.”

A shiver of pleasure rolls down my spine before I can help it.

God, why does he affect me like this? Why do I care whether or not he brings me up to his friends?

She slides onto the stool and pushes her bag to the side so it doesn’t sit between us.

“You look really pretty,” she tells me with a smile.

I arch a brow to make it clear I don’t believe her.

“What? You do!”

I don’t buy it.

“Are you trying to butter me up for some reason?”

She gives me a wicked smile. “Maybe. But I honestly do think you look pretty. I like when you wear your hair like that.”

“In a high ponytail?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes! It shows off your bone structure.”

Oh good grief.

I go back to wiping off the counter around where she’s sitting.

“Ben heard some reporters came in here asking about him,” she volunteers out of the blue.

How?

“You didn’t tell them anything did you?”

My eyes go wide. “No. Of course not. Not a word.”

She nods as if she already knew that. “Good. I figured. It’s just some people…” She shakes her head. “They see these guys as their meal ticket.”

“Well I’m not one of those people,” I say with a stubborn tone.

She smiles apologetically. “I know. Forget I asked. Anyway, do you have a house to clean this afternoon?”

I nod. “A big one about fifteen minutes from here.”

“Is it toward Maken?”

“Yeah.”

She beams. “That’s perfect. I have a plan for us.”

“Does it involve you helping me again? Because last time I ended up having to take you to the doctor afterward.”

She laughs. “It wasn’t from helping you clean! Besides, I’m in the clear now. Baby’s doing just fine in there, and tonight we’re going to celebrate.” Then she unzips her large duffle and pulls out some sky-high heels. “Tell me you can pull off a size eight.”

Unfortunately, I can.

As we drive, I ask Leanna where we’re going a hundred times, but she just says “dinner”. As if dinner requires me to wear a dress like this—one that bares too much cleavage and flares out around my hips, cutting off to expose damn near every inch of my legs. She went crazy for it once I put it on. I changed in the back of her car and then she made me sit up front in her passenger seat, face her, and let her apply makeup.

“This isn’t like a ‘you could be pretty if only you tried’ scenario, you realize that, right? You’re one of those girls who might look better without makeup on, even. I just love doing this, so humor me.”

I did humor her, sitting patiently while she flipped through eye shadow palettes and contour kits.

Then I flipped the visor down and inspected my reflection. I ticked all the boxes: healthy glow, sultry eyes, seductive lips. But overall, I still looked like myself, which was a nice surprise. I was scared she’d go a little too overboard.