Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(3)

Coach entered the gym, followed by a few of the players. They all watched from the sidelines as Jocelyn pummeled me into submission, shot after shot, until she rammed my chair hard enough that I pitched forward as she tried to snatch the ball after I bricked it off the rim.

"Oh, come on, that was a foul," I yelled out.

Jocelyn glanced over at Coach, who held his hands up. "Looked clean to me, Levi. Better hit some shots. You're embarrassing me out there."

Earl chuckled. Merl slapped his leg.

Jocelyn pursed her lips to keep from smiling, and I felt it again.

A tug. A reminder. Someone poking me in the back to get me going in the right direction.

Do something. You're not doing what you're supposed to be doing.

I held up a hand to pause the play even though there was no earthly way I could catch up to her. She stopped moving and set the ball in her lap.

"Do you give up?" she asked.

Under my breath, I laughed, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. "I have a strong sense of self-preservation, so yes, I concede."

Jocelyn tossed me the ball, and I caught it. "Good game."

I raised an eyebrow at her, which made her grin again. It was another quick one, just a hint of her full smile. The words were out of my mouth before I could think twice.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me?"

Her face froze, the seemingly endless confidence I'd seen since she first came through the doors showing its first hiccup. "You wanna what?"

I breathed out a laugh, glad that no one was within earshot now. My body relaxed for the first time since she approached me. This is what I was supposed to do. "I'd love it if you'd allow me to take you out to dinner."

She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed me suspiciously. "You don't know me. What if I'm fourteen, and you just became the pervy coach who asked out a minor?"

My head cocked to the side. "Well, then you'd have some explaining to do since you have to be sixteen in order to play."

Jocelyn puffed air out of her mouth. Not quite a laugh, but it was something. "Do you even know my name? Because I don't know yours."

Liar, I wanted to say. Coach yelled at me every practice, but I let it slide.

I held out my hand. "Levi Buchanan. Born and raised in Green Valley, just turned eighteen, future exercise science major at Maryville College, and youngest of three boys. And I'm terrible at wheelchair basketball."

Her nose wrinkled like I'd thrown dirt in her face, but she shook my hand.

"Jocelyn Abernathy, not born or raised in Green Valley, sixteen years old, I'm not terrible at wheelchair basketball, and my friends call me Joss." She tilted her head. "Or they would if I had friends."

Again, I laughed, but her face didn't change from that same mildly amused expression. My smile dropped, and I cleared my throat, not quite sure what to say to that.

The other players, sensing that our match was over, started passing drills on the opposite side of the court, with Coach yelling suggestions. Jocelyn watched them for a second, her cheeks taking on a pink tinge that I couldn't decipher because she didn't seem pleased by my offer. Surprised, maybe, but there was no excitement in her eyes and no fidgeting of her hands.

When she glanced back at me, her gaze was direct.

Tennessee summer sky over the mountains blue.

"I'm not …" She swallowed. "I'm not in a place where I'm ready to have dinner with anyone, Levi." She gestured weakly at her lap and legs. "Even though it's been two years since I got sick and ended up … like this, it's still … it still takes up a lot of my head. I can't think about dinners," she said it quietly, looking far older than her sixteen years. "Or anything like that right now."

I nodded, using two mental hands to shove down the biting sense of disappointment.

Stupid Buchanan curse.

I expected that same thing prodding me forward would start railing, turning the nudge into something more persistent, but it was quiet. Waiting for what she said next.

"But," she continued, hesitation written all over her face, in her wrinkled brow, the uncomfortable smile, "finishing high school on your computer doesn't give you much of a social life. Especially when you're new in town." Her fingers curled together on her lap. "Maybe … maybe a new friend wouldn't be so bad."

It made no sense that I'd know, instantly and with complete surety, that what she'd just admitted to me was a gift. Something real and raw, hard for her to say out loud, something I definitely hadn't earned yet, but that I'd hold carefully, nonetheless.

Joss gave me a curious look when I held out my hand. Even that, the question in her eyes, had my heart doing a skip-stutter.

"Levi Buchanan," I said. "It's nice to meet you, Joss."

Then, then she gave me a real smile—white teeth, pink lips, tiny dimple on the right side—and I never, ever got my heart back.





Chapter 1





Jocelyn





“Arm porn" was a trendy term I wouldn't mind getting rid of. It'd gotten a little out of hand if you asked me. Don't get me wrong, I could, objectively at least, understand why you'd turn your head at a completely impossible angle to catch a glimpse of a nice bicep, the kind that looked like someone shoved a softball under a guy's skin.