“Sure thing.”
I grab a towel from my supplies and find my way over to the dunk tank.
Clay’s still only wearing swim trunks, and the water drips off his perfect form.
“Hi,” I say, holding out the towel.
“Hey.” He grins as he takes it. The fabric is woefully insufficient for his huge body. “You look good.”
His gaze settles on my cheek before coming back to my eyes.
“So do you.” A flush crawls up my face as I think of the last time we were together.
My skirt up around my chest.
His tongue doing wicked things between my thighs.
“Gonna get a win, Clay?” someone calls from the crowd.
“Hell yeah.”
I glance back over my shoulder, remembering we’re in public with thousands of people. “I, ah, should get back.”
Before he can answer, I turn on my heel, tripping as I make my way back to the face-painting stand.
“You guys are stupid cute,” Brooke says.
We’re back working for a few minutes—I’ve finished two Ks, three jersey numbers, and a special-request purple dinosaur when a hundred-dollar bill in the jar makes me snap my eyes up.
Clay stands by my chair. It’s hard to keep any distance.
“Take a seat,” I offer.
Clay looks at the kid-sized chair.
“Yeah, never mind,” I tell him.
I step on the chair instead, so we’re eye level. He holds out a hand for the paints, and I set them in his palm. Then I go to work, outlining my design.
“I see you traded painting canvas for kids this week,” he comments.
“Only for today. I’m taking over Harlan’s garage. This gallery in New York that was interested in offering me a show after I did the Kodiaks mural last year had a cancellation and said they could fit me in for a solo show before Christmas.”
“That’s big.”
“It is.” I shift on my feet, excitement bubbling up. “I thought I already had most of what I’d need for the show, but the past couple of days have been super productive so now I’m going to have to pick favorites. Harlan’s going to have to sell a car just so I have room to store the canvases.”
Clay turns it over. “You could rent a space.”
It never occurred to me to have a dedicated space outside of a house. “That’s a good idea. But…”
“I know you can afford it.”
“You’re right.” Sometimes it still feels strange to have money in my bank account from the Kodiaks mural and the handful of jobs since. I can take care of myself and have more options than ever.
“I’ll help you look, if you want. Have you thought about finding an art agent while you’re at it? It sounds like you’re busy enough you could use someone to field offers,” he says.
I nod. “I’ve gotten a few inquiries, but I’ve been too nervous to accept them. Work is steady right now, but who’s to say that will continue?”
“It’ll continue, Pink. Once someone gets a taste of you, they can never get enough.”
My skin tingles from his words.
He’s quiet for a minute, the sounds of kids hollering and water splashing and music filling the space between us.
“You’re being very patient,” I observe as I work.
“Good things are worth waiting for.”
I brace my hand against his skin as I paint, the simple skin-to-skin contact making my pulse scramble.
I’m painting a bear on his face. One with beautiful detail and blue eyes.
It keeps my brain occupied while I try not to lose myself in his closeness, his words.
“How does it feel to be playing again?” I ask.
“I’m trying not to expect too much from it. Just putting in the work. Trying to prove it’s going to be different this time around.” He shifts on his feet. “I also scheduled an appointment with my therapist.”
I inhale sharply. “That’s great! I know talking to Kat’s helped, but—”
“How’d you know I talked to Kat about basketball?”
Caught out, I go back to my palette for more color. “Um. Because you’re siblings. You talk.”
“You told her to check on me after you left,” he accuses.
“I didn’t tell her, I mentioned that maybe you could use company for your ring ceremony.” I turn back to him, squaring my shoulders. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. Or thinking about you.”
His nostrils flare as the words sink in. “Guess it’s hard to be mad about that.”
Once I’m finished, I hold up a mirror for him. “Do you like it?”
Clay stares me down, his eyes flicking between mine and my mouth. He’s huge and tattooed and gorgeous, his dark eyes laced with gold.
His jaw twitches, and I want to stroke it, but I can’t move, can’t do anything but stare into his eyes.
“Feel lucky today, Wade?” a fan hollers.
Clay grabs my waist with both hands, his thumbs crossing over my bare navel as his mouth descends to claim mine.
It’s not like the first time we kissed.
It’s better because I know him. The light and the dark, the good and the bad.
“Now I feel lucky,” he murmurs when he pulls back and heads for the stadium.
18
CLAY
My first game back in a Kodiaks uniform and I’m ready to light it up. We’re playing against Atlanta, who has a solid squad with some young stars.
The crowd lets out a mix of boos but mostly cheers when they announce me.
I guess some of the fans figured I wanted out too.
I’m ripping off my warmup gear when our new coach taps me on the shoulder. “I took a chance playing you both to start.”
“It’s going to work,” I tell him, hoping I’m not lying.
When Kyle dunked me earlier, I was pissed. But Nova’s face was the first thing I saw when I got out of the tank. Her pink hair. Her bright eyes. Her wide smile. When I saw my number on her cheek, I wanted to drag her into the tank with me and wrap those legs around my hips and taste her, no matter who was watching.
I settled for being close to her while she painted my face. Finding out she was trying to stay close, thinking of me even when she left, answered a question I didn’t know was haunting me.
It was the happiest I’ve felt in forever, and there’s no way I could’ve planned it. The sun beating down, a game about to begin…
It makes me wonder how the hell I let things get so off track.
But now, I have to focus on the game. To make it work with the roster we have, I’m shifting positions slightly.
When we take the court, Kyle leans over. “You should’ve stayed in LA. Kept your ring and called it a day.”
“You sound jealous.”
“You say you’re here for the guys, but we both know that’s not true.” He nods to Miles on the bench, who doesn’t look the happiest to be there.
My jaw flexes. “We want to win, it’ll take more than any one of us.”
The game starts, Atlas grabbing the jump ball.
Over the next four quarters, I play, but more than that, I watch.