Beauty and the Baller(24)

“And?” I give him a look after the pause goes on too long.

The waitress interrupts us, asking if we want refills, and when she’s walking away, Skeeter gets up to go to the bathroom. I bristle. What went to hell for Nova?

I glance over as Nova wraps up her chat with Sonia, then heads back to the bar, where she plops down on a stool.

Before I think too hard about it, I grab my water glass, which I didn’t want refilled, and head to the bar. Tuck’s words keep tumbling around in my head. Who is she? Really? Why did she agree to come to the party if it wasn’t for money? Is she just like the other crazy fans who would do anything to see a player? Was the emotion I felt in her arms fake?

My chest twinges. Did I hurt her? Or did it mean nothing at all?

She’s leaning in over the bar, her face supported by her elbows, chatting to the male bartender, when I slide in next to her. I motion to him. “Water, please.”

She stills, then turns to look at me, those blue eyes cool. “Hello.”

“We meet again. Nice boots.”

“Bound to happen. It’s a small town.” She kicks out a long leg. “The shoes are a throwback to high school. I begged for Mama to buy these, and she wouldn’t, so I saved my money from my tips at the diner.”

“I used to work at a diner. I washed dishes.”

She shrugs. “We have something in common. Did you buy boots?”

“No.”

The bartender slides my water over, and a tense silence settles between us when I don’t leave.

A server walks behind the bar, and Nova raises her hand. “Hey. I’m here for a pickup order. Under Morgan. I called it in about half an hour ago.”

I take a sip of water. “So. How are you?”

She frowns, probably wondering why I’m trying to talk to her. “Fine. How are you?”

“We have lice at school.” Ugh. Stupid.

“I’ll check Sabine tonight.”

“You want a Coke or something else while you wait, Nova?” the bartender asks. He’s in his early twenties with a baby face and a trendy fade hairstyle. His eyes roam over her breasts. “On the house, darlin’. Anytime you come in, ask for me, and I’ll fix you up.” He taps his name tag. “Riley.”

“Aw, thanks, Riley; that’s so sweet. I’d love a Coke,” she says, batting her lashes as he slides one over. She tips it up at me, a little smirk on her face. “Free drink. Yahoo.” She glances back at the bartender, who’s moved away to help someone else. “Hmm. He’s cute. You think I’m too old for him?”

“Yes.”

“But you can date a twenty-year-old?”

“What? No.” Whitney was my age. Jenny was young, but I also thought since she was, she wouldn’t expect much. Wrong.

My waitress shows up next to me, a disappointed look on her face. “Coach, I would have gotten your drink for you.”

“I got it,” I say. “No worries.”

She shrugs, then pulls a piece of paper out of the green apron that’s tied around her waist. “I was told to give you this. It’s that lady’s”—she points at a young, attractive brunette across the bar, who smiles brightly at me—“phone number. I know you said to stop giving them to you, but she used to babysit me, and she’s super nice. She just came out of a nasty divorce and got a big ranch in the settlement. I think y’all would make a cute couple.” She leans in. “She also gave me twenty bucks.”

I grimace/smile at the lady, then tuck the number in my pants.

Nova smothers a laugh. “Wow. Women are paying for the hope of you calling them. Will you?”

“She owns a ranch, and I do like horses.”

She chuckles.

I take her in over the rim of my glass. Her beauty is like a blow to a man’s chest. With her height and that face, she could have been a model. Somehow, I don’t think it’s something she ever aspired to be. Not with that serious glint in her eyes. She might be trouble, but there’s a deeper side to her than what’s on the surface.

“Order up for Morgan,” the server calls and sets a white bag on the counter.

Nova swipes the bag, then jumps off the stool. “See you later, Fancy Pants.”

And before I can think of anything else to keep her here, she’s waltzing out the front door, those boots accentuating her perfect ass.





Chapter 6


NOVA

With the windows rolled down, Sabine and I belt out “The Climb,” by Miley Cyrus, as we pull up to a bookstore. I’m tapping my fingers on the steering wheel while she moves her shoulders with the beat. Like me, she sings with heart. It’s a song about an uphill battle, about struggles and mountains in your life, but you don’t stop; you keep climbing.

I throw the Caddy in park and inhale a lungful of late Texas summer as I gaze at the new bookstore. On Main Street, and just a few blocks from our house, it’s inside an old barn.

We step inside to the cool air. Completely renovated, the inside is bright and spotless with white walls and big industrial lights that hover over the space. On the right side are red-and-black tables and booths, most of them packed. The left side features an order counter with a long bakery case. The back of the barn is lined with tall rustic-looking shelves.