4th & Girl

“Glad I could provide the entertainment for the evening.”

“Man, you have no idea,” Cam said on a soft laugh. “And, speaking of evening,” he added. “That’s actually why I was calling you. We’re grabbing a few beers at Maloney’s. You game?”

I couldn’t deny it was nice to feel accepted by my teammates as more than just the rookie they liked to screw with, but my sights were set on bigger and better things than yucking it up with the guys.

Tonight was the night I’d been waiting what felt like ages for.

It was date night. With my mystery girl. With Gemma.

“I appreciate that, man, but I’ve already got plans.”

“Painting your toenails and writing poetry doesn’t count.”

“That’s tomorrow night,” I corrected with a laugh. “Tonight, I’m taking Gemma out.”

“Well, shit,” he said, and a low wolf whistle filled my ears. “You don’t waste any time.”

“Nope.” I grinned. “At least, not when it comes to her.”

“Damn, what’s with this girl?” he asked.

“I don’t know, man,” I muttered. Because honestly, I really didn’t know what exactly drew me toward her. I just knew I wanted to get closer to her. I wanted to know her. Not to mention, the one million fantasies I’d conjured in my mind that had her playing the starring role. “She’s just… There’s just something there.”

Cam’s momentary pause was just enough time for me to end the conversation before he had a chance to toss out more sarcastic commentary.

“Speaking of which,” I said into the receiver. “I gotta run. Talk later, dude.”

A mere fifteen seconds later, I was off the phone and pulling out onto the main road.

The drive to Gemma’s apartment in Brooklyn was a long one, both literally and figuratively.

Since getting drafted by the Mavericks and finding an apartment close to the stadium, I’d learned a thing or two about living outside of the city.

Number one: Getting there from anywhere else, no matter how close it seemed, took a while.

And number two: Almost no one lived in actual Manhattan.

Hoboken. Weehawken. Brooklyn. The suburbs in New Jersey. I’d been to the houses and apartments of many a player all over the tri-state area at this point, and even if lost without the help of GPS, I was pretty sure I could find my way.

But keeping my gas tank close to full was imperative, and I never went anywhere with an expectation that it would take me under thirty minutes.

Unfortunately, no matter the planning, I was running ten minutes late, and texting on the streets of Brooklyn was like asking for death.

I just hoped when I arrived, Gemma would be waiting and something less than passive-aggressively angry.

Pulling the Durango into an empty spot, I shut off the engine and hopped out as quickly as I could, jogging down the block to the address Gemma had texted me the day before.

I bounded up the steps toward the door, ready to rap my knuckles against it, but it swung open without prompt.

Gemma looked up from the ground with a sweeping lift of her head and stepped out onto the stoop, and I had to reach up to grip my chest as she did.

Heels, skinny jeans, and a delightfully low-cut blouse paid tribute to her body, and her hair fell down around her perfect face in soft waves.

I smiled big and wide and unbidden, and her forward motion pulled up short.

“You…look amazing,” I breathed without thought.

She blushed, a fine rosiness I was starting to become well-acquainted with, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said with ease and held out a hand for her own.

She hesitated slightly but completed the connection much more quickly than she had at lunch the day prior, and I helped her down the stairs in her heels.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late,” I remarked.

“That’s okay,” she dismissed easily. “I know how Brooklyn can be sometimes.”

Instantly, relief lightened the pressure inside my chest.

Thank God she’s not mad.

I nodded my gratitude with a smile and walked her down the block to my car.

She climbed in as I opened the door without comment, and once she was securely in the passenger seat, I shut the door and rounded the hood toward the driver’s side.

I knew if I was going to get through this night, I needed to figure out how to untie my tongue, but there was just something about her that robbed me of my normal self-assuredness.

She was sweet and interesting—and fucking prettier than anyone I’d ever seen.

Believe it or not, I didn’t want to fuck it up.

“I tried to plan enough time, but apparently, I’m not that good at planning,” I said teasingly as I climbed inside.

She smiled at my awkward excuse, and internally, I grimaced.

Good Lord, get it together, Leo.

“So, where am I headed?”

“I’m really not sure of the name of it,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “My friend suggested it, but I’ve got an address.”