Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(29)

“I could tell her you stopped by,” Billie says, her voice almost conspiratorial, like we have a secret.

“Nah, but thanks.” I smooth my expression over and walk ahead of her. By necessity, I got really good at masking my emotions and shutting everyone out. Every day, some reporter was digging in my trash, literally and figuratively. I can’t have my life exposed that way again. I don’t think Lotus would share my personal details, but look how badly I misjudged Bridget.

I’m almost at the door when I run into Lotus’s other friend from the party, Yari.

“Hi,” she says. “How ya doing?”

“Fine.” I keep my voice curt. Not friendly.

“Were you looking for Lotus?” Her smile teases me, and again, I wonder if I’m the butt of some joke everyone knows but me.

“No, I had a meeting with JP.” I allow my irritation to show in my frown. “Gotta go.”

I stalk off to the lobby, but the damn elevator is taking forever. It’s one floor. There’s no way I’m standing here for another minute when I could have been down the steps and gone by now. I take the stairs, and I’m rounding the second curve of the staircase leading to the first floor when something heavy pounds me in the chest and knocks me back into the stairwell wall.

“Shit,” says a female voice, muffled behind a huge bolt of red fabric. “I’m so sorry.”

When she props the fabric up against the wall, I see the woman behind the voice.

“Lotus?” I ask, thrown not just by the blow to my midsection, but by the sight of her.

It’s boiling hot outside today, and the faintest sheen of sweat coats her top lip and the curves at her temples. Her T-shirt is cut to fall below her breasts. White linen shorts sit low on her hips, exposing the firm plane of her stomach and the feminine muscles etched under her skin. A lotus flower tattoo blossoms around her belly button. The shorts are so tiny, they barely hit the tops of her thighs. Ink peeks out from beneath the cuffs, but it’s mostly covered and I can’t make out what it is.

Desire hits me harder than that bolt of fabric to my belly. I wish I could figure out how to stop wanting her. She’s twenty-five years old. Too young for me. Too complicated. We said just friends, but I don’t know if I can do that. I want to fuck her every time we’re in the same room, and when we’re not together, I’m thinking about it. I know we need to keep this simple. That’s the smart thing to do, but I find myself not wanting to do the smart thing. I’ve been blind and stupid before. I can’t afford to do that again.

“Sorry about that,” she says, her smile open, sweet. “The elevator was taking too long, and I wanted to get this fabric up to the studio. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

I wonder what’s behind the pretty face. I don’t want to question her honesty, her forthrightness, but I’ve been duped before. I gave a woman my trust and she turned it on me like a loaded gun.

I don’t return Lotus’s smile, unsure if I should take steps back, or move forward because either way, there may be something to lose. Her infectious grin disintegrates. Her mouth flattens into the line I saw before we started getting to know each other.

“I gotta go,” I say abruptly, pushing off the wall and past her, determined to leave it at this and to leave her alone. I’m on my way down the stairs, but can’t resist one look back. Lotus still stands in the same spot, facing away from me, her back a stiff line, one arm around the bolt of cloth and a hand on her hip.

I’m a jackass.

I rush back to the landing above and stand behind her, looping an arm around her waist. She jerks against my hold, but I don’t let go.

“Hey.” I expel a long breath, stirring the curls arrowing wildly into my face.

“I’m sorry.”

She whirls around to face me, shaking my arm from her waist.

“For what? Acting like we don’t know each other?” Anger snaps in her voice, but I hear the hurt. I put it there. “I don’t think we’ve fucked yet, so it’s a little odd that you’re already treating me like yesterday’s trash.”

“I was abrupt. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“Oh, I know that,” she says, her words as hot as the summer outside these air-conditioned walls. “But it’s okay. You do you and I’ll do me. Is that simple enough for you, friend?”

“Can I please explain?”

“No.” She grabs the cloth and marches toward the next landing of stairs.

I take the bolt from under her arm and toss it against the wall. Grasping her wrist gently, conscious of the fine bones in my big hands, I lean against the wall and pull her to stand between my legs.

“I’m sorry.” I push a clump of curls back, exposing the gold studs running along the whorl of her ear. “May I please explain that I’m a dumbass?”

She stills, but doesn’t pull away.

“I didn’t have to come to the office today,” I admit, my voice quiet in the privacy of the stairwell.

She flicks a look up at me from under her lashes, curious and cautious.

“JP mentioned prototypes of the watches, and I offered to come see them in person.” I laugh at myself and shake my head. “I jumped at the chance to see you.”

She fixes her stare on the ground between our feet. Her shoulders, held tight and high, slowly drop. She’s listening. She’s hearing me.