Block Shot (Hoops #2)(130)

“You have done more than enough,” he says, taking her hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.”

“So you don’t . . .” She swallows and crystal tears bead the bottom row of thick lashes. “You don’t want me around? Is that what you’re saying?”

He clears his throat, and my joy at this new development shrinks when I see tears in his eyes, too. His voice is still thick with emotion when he speaks. “For a while, I think it’s best.”

Banner and I have something he can’t have with her, but he has something with her that is uniquely theirs. I scour my heart for jealousy, but there is none. How could there be? Banner is so pure in her motives, in her heart for him. He and I both recognize she would do anything for him as his friend. I don’t envy him the task ahead . . . getting over her.

I never could.

He puts the mask she brought him over his face and loops the string behind his head.

“There.” The mask muffles the word. “You happy now?”

Her smile up at him clears some of her tears.

“I’ll be happier,” she says, “if you drink some of this. You need your . . .”

Her voice peters out and she shakes her head, worry disrupting the smooth lines of her face.

“At least let me go over everything with the nurse,” she says. “There’s an app to keep up with your meds. And I have a regularly scheduled call with the hematologist who manages the multidisciplinary team. It’s a lot, and I just want to make sure the, um . . . transition is seamless.”

He simply nods, lifts the mask long enough to take a pointed sip of the concoction she brought over.

“I’ll make sure she speaks with you,” he says. “Now I’m going to go drool over all the food I cannot eat yet.”

He runs a glance over her face, lingering on each feature like he’s memorizing it, his eyes dark and sober over the white mask.

“Goodbye, Banner,” he says.

She just nods and watches him leave the terrace. It’s quiet for a minute, except for the laughter and music floating out to us from inside. I give Banner a moment to swipe a finger under her eyes.

“You want to dance?” I ask finally, softly.

Her eyes are still bright with tears, but she smiles and steps into my arms. We sway to the faint strains of a mariachi band playing something thankfully more mellow. The last time we danced Sixpence None The Richer was singing “Kiss Me.” That night, I did kiss her, and everything changed.

“I’m sorry I was upset that he’s getting a nurse,” she says after a few minutes of our quiet sway. “It’s not . . . it’s just—”

“I’m not mad.” I reach for her chin, lifting it so she meets my eyes. “I get it.”

Relief chases the worry from her face.

“I do think it’s a good idea, though,” I tell her, as if she didn’t know. “You need to devote as much time as possible to your job, considering I hear your new boss is a hard-ass.”

Her deep-throated laugh drowns out everything else for a second.

“Boss?” She loops her arms around my neck, slipping her fingers into my hair. “I’m pretty sure my contract says I’m an equal partner at Elevation. I did deliver on my promise to double your client list when I left Bagley.”

“That you did.” A smile stretches across my face, the kind I’m sure the Cheshire cat leaves hanging in Wonderland.

“You sure you don’t just want me for my clients?” She smiles up at me, the question free of sting. Her face, everything about her, so clearly confident in herself, in my love.

We’ve come far. Who were we at the beginning of this road? Two ambitious, lost kids who found each other. God, we were so careless, as you often are when you’re young. You don’t value the things most precious, assuming the rare is common. But it’s not. We weren’t common. In all the years that followed, Banner was my yard stick, and no one else ever measured up. No one ever will. There are many amazing women around. I know that. I’ve met them, but it’s not just who Banner is, but who we are together. Who I am with her. I’d never fit with anyone the way I do with Banner, even though from the outside looking in, we might not make sense.

“Do I want you for your clients?” I repeat the question as a whisper in her ear. “Should I dance you into the shadows over there and show you what I really want from you?”

She pulls back to stare up at me, her dark eyes a warning and a dare.

“We can’t,” she says, her voice firm but her eyes salacious. “We’ve made love in a lot of places and gotten away with it, but I think my niece’s quincea?era would be pushing it even for us.”

I dance her into said shadows, under an overhang of palm trees, a reprieve from what remains of the sun, and press her against the wall.

“Did you say push?” I press my erection into her. “This sounds more and more like an invitation.”

She expels a short breath, bites her lips, and closes her eyes as she subtly gives my dick an answering grind.

“I said no,” she says breathlessly.

“Scared your mom’ll catch us again?” My laugh is huskier now with the sweet curve of her hips against me. “I would not do it here or there. I would not do it anywhere.”