“And, I’ve heard rumors about those Hawks players hanging around the hospital. Just checking to see which one got their name across your back.”
“And?” I replied, cocking my hip knowing exactly which name was there.
Luke mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. “Sorry. I missed that.”
“I said Fucking Noah Whitaker. Knew I didn’t like that pretty boy for a reason.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Jealousy wasn’t something that looked good on a lot of people. On me, it made me look like the wicked witch of the west, but on Luke, it made him look even hotter. Something I didn’t know was even possible.
“Are you ready? We don’t want to miss tip-off,” I said, patting down my pockets, making sure I had everything.
“Yep. I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want to change your top?” Luke suggested helpfully.
“Well, I could always just take it off.” I threw the comment out there and watched as Luke’s eyes widened in surprise. Damn, it felt good to throw him off balance.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” Luke groaned as he reached for my hand and led me down to his car.
It surprised me how easy everything was with Luke. As he’d navigated his SUV through the streets, the back seat of his car buried beneath Barbie’s hair ties and books, it was the reminder I needed that it wasn’t just Luke here. He was a single dad, and no matter what happened, I’d never be his number one girl. And that’s the way it should be.
After battling for a car park, we grabbed a couple of sodas and climbed the stairs until we found our shitty seats. Having left it so late, there wasn’t a lot left, but we were here so I took what I could get.
“So, you’re a Whitaker fan?” Luke probed as he stretched his arm across the back of my seat, and I tried not to read too much into it.
“Not necessarily. Mason Flynn’s a good guy. And Elijah …”
“You’re on a first name basis with them all?”
“For someone who’s not a Hawks fan, you seem to know the players …” I tossed back, enjoying sparring with him more than I probably should.
When Luke’s fingers tangled in my hair, the argument almost died on my lips. This man’s effect on my body was insane. All he had to do was touch me and I turned to mush and forgot my name.
The lights went low, the cheerleaders appeared, and when I snuck a look over at Luke he winked in my direction. Music pumped through the speakers and the announcers got the crowd going. My foot was tapping and I hadn’t even realized.
When the players took to the court, the sound was deafening. People were cheering and screaming and carrying on like they’d just won the championship. From our seats, almost in the rafters, the players, who I knew were actually giants, looked tiny.
It was incredible to be a part of. I’d been to games before, and I’d sat in much fancier seats courtesy of my best friend and her well-connected husband. The national anthem was sung, and it was finally game time.
I tried to behave, I really did.
But I’d never been one to sit on my hands and keep my mouth shut. So, when Mason was fouled and shoved into the row of chairs at the end of the court, I was on my feet, waving my arms around. At any other time, or at any other place, I would’ve looked like a crazy woman who’d gone off her meds. Here though, I was just another fan. Maybe a little hardcore, but there was no one waiting to escort me out the door to the asylum.
Out of breath and with my throat dry, I reached for my soda only to catch a sly look on Luke’s face. “What?” I asked bluntly.
“Nothing.”
“Nuh-uh. That’s not a nothing face. What is it?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You mightn’t have said anything, but you wanted to. What was it?”
“You really like your basketball, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” I was sure I was missing something, but I had no idea what.
“Your enthusiasm is … infectious.”
“Infectious?”
