Chapter 21
NOVA
The next day, I’m at the stadium and working on a different set of drawings that have nothing to do with my sister’s wedding.
Harlan said I could come and go as I wanted, and security made it easy. So, it wasn’t difficult to plan my visit to match with the Kodiaks' on-court practice while Mari’s at work.
Down on the court, the guys are in practice jerseys, running drills. I never before appreciated how tightly scripted the game is. Every act of aggression on the court, every defensive play, is planned and rehearsed over and over.
Right now, the coaches hold tablets, talking amongst themselves. The head coach watches intently, arms crossed as Clay brings the ball up the court, guarded closely by the rookie.
Clay spins away, beating the rookie by a full second. There’s a moment’s hesitation when he shifts his weight.
Miles cuts toward the edge of the court and calls out. Clay’s head snaps up, and he fires a pass to his teammate, who takes a three that’s all net.
Jayden celebrates, high-fiving Clay, who looks as if he’s up in his head about something. The knee?
Even still, I’m sitting up in the corporate box, high enough that none of the players will notice me. It’s not that Clay wouldn’t be okay with me showing up, but I’m not here to see him. Not entirely.
I watch, and I draw.
“Don’t tell me you’re changing horses mid-race.” Brooke drops onto the seat next to me and makes me jump.
“How are you so quiet in heels?”
“Practice.” She tosses her braids over a shoulder, then takes in the drawing I’m working on. “You hitting on my brother?”
“No.” I flip the page to the previous one. “I have all the guys. Miles, too.”
Her eyes narrow. She tugs the sketchbook into her lap, her lavender nails brushing the edges of the page. “Damn. You should put your work in galleries. I’m not just saying that. I don’t bullshit. If they were ass, I’d tell you.”
I laugh. “Thanks?”
I like having someone in my life who says what she means. Brooke is together and confident like my sister, but we don’t have the same drama from years of rubbing against one another.
Brooke holds up the sketch of Miles mid-shot. “His mouth is wrong. It goes up right there when he’s shooting a three.”
I look between her and the guys, but his back is turned as they prep another play.
“How’d you know it’s a three?”
“The legs. The concentration on his face. He always gets that dialed-in Jason Bourne look when he’s trolling the arc.”
“See something you like?”
Miles has caught us staring, and all the guys look up. Clay swipes his face with a towel, then his gaze meets mine. His chin lifts in a nod.
A secret nod.
A high-school hot guy nod.
A guy who made you come in a bunk bed and held you while you watched The Princess Bride nod.
I try to play it cool and pretend I’m not lit up by the fact that Clayton Wade, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, the best player on an entire team of professional athletes, is staring at me as if I’m the only thing worth seeing.
I can’t look away.
Just when I think I can contain the feelings, can keep myself from catching on fire…
Clay strips off his jersey.
Heat stokes between my thighs like a secret sin.
I know how those muscles feel against me. How he sounds, that low growl in my ear.
He knows I’m watching, and he likes it. He takes his time crossing to the side of the court to grab a new shirt.
If he walked up here and said he wanted to fuck me in front of everyone, it would take every ounce of my willpower not to lie down on the floor and let him do it.
Coach blows his whistle. “Back to work!”
They focus again in an instant. It takes me way longer.
Brooke passes the drawing back.
“Maybe you’re right about the mouth,” I say when I look at it again. “You know him suspiciously well.”
“He’s my brother’s best friend. I’ve seen him every way there is.”
We both watch the players for a moment.
I say, “By ‘every way,’ you mean…”
She folds her slim arms. “Don’t.”
“Why not? He’s cute,” I say. His wavy dark hair and the dimple when he grins. He’s got a sense of humor and is a charming playboy.
“First, my brother would kill him. Then me. Then bring Miles back to life and kill him again.”
I’m intrigued enough to close my sketchbook and set it on the next seat over.
Brooke’s eyes are still on the court. “You can love these guys, Nova, but they’ll always love basketball more.”
The decisiveness of her words takes me aback, but she continues.
“I think you’re good for Clay. He’s probably even good for you. But I want to be your friend, and friends tell each other what’s up, and what’s up is that you won’t be the love of his life. He already has one.”
I turn that over. “I don’t want to come between him and basketball. I want to love something like they love basketball.”
I expect Brooke to call me na?ve or silly, but she only laughs.
“Have a good time. Bang him until you can’t walk. Hell, until neither of you can.” She shoots me an arch look. “And if it ends badly, I’m here.”
The team takes a break, and Clay goes for his phone.
Mine’s buzzing a moment later.
Grumpy Baller: Got you tickets for our next preseason game.
He sends through an image of a VIP pass.
Nova: That’s in LA.
Grumpy Baller: You deserve better than watching on TV.
Grumpy Baller: I promise I’ll be better behaved after. As long as you wear my jersey.
I want to go. So badly. But it means a flight, which I hate.
Plus, it’s a week until the wedding, and even though everything is on track, there’s no reason I can think of to justify this getaway to my sister.
“You going to the LA game?” I ask Brooke.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Brooke looks over my shoulder, then clears her throat.
“There’s a brand I’ve been meaning to meet in LA. I could see them while I’m there. We could catch a ride together.”
My breath catches. “Really?”
“Sure.” Brooke taps a polished nail against her lips. “Maybe I need help on this trip.”
I throw my arms around her neck, and she hugs me back.
“It’ll be a train wreck,” she mumbles into my neck.
I pull back and frown. “Why?”
“LA is the best. They’ve won the last two years. If you think the first two games were intense, you have no idea what you’re in for.”