Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(48)

Dammit, why are my eyes sparkling?

What is this boom-crash-thump my heart does while I’m waiting for Kenan’s knock at the door?

Why is my belly flip-flopping at the thought of spending the entire day with him?

“This is not a date,” I grimly remind my reflection.

“If it looks like a date and quacks like a date,” Yari says from the door to my bedroom, “it’s a date.”

“What do you know?” I ask, turning around to grin at her. She’s still in her pajamas and her hair is a half-curly, half-straight mess all over her head. “Also, what bush did you sleep in?”

“Girl, there wasn’t much sleeping,” she says, her smile a dirty, satisfied smear on her pretty face. “Pedro spent the night.”

“Oh, well look at you, getting some.” I laugh and put on oversized hoop earrings. “Haven’t you known him like forever?”

“One of those guys from the neighborhood who’s been sniffing around since high school, yeah. I never gave him the time of day, and after all these years, I finally did.” She tips her head down and slants me a meaningful look. “Lo, dude showed me what he was working with last night. It’s a lot.”

I smooth sunscreen on my arms and legs. It’s a myth that brown doesn’t burn. “That good, huh?”

“Yeah.” She pauses to look me over, head to toe. “You say you don’t want to catch a fish, but you baiting that hook mighty hard. You look good, Lo. You might have to remind Kenan it’s not a date, too.”

“He knows,” I say and grab my small leather crossbody bag.

The teasing leaves Yari’s face. “What’s really going on with you two?”

I pause in making sure I have lip balm and cash for the day. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I know you claim not to be into Kenan like that, and I know you’re in this legs closed phase, but you don’t fool me. I know you, Lo,” Yari says. “You like him, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.

“I don’t know, Ri. I’m attracted to him. He seems too good to be true. We haven’t kissed again since that party, but . . .”

I recall the firm, soft press of his mouth into mine. Remember him handling me like I was precious.

“But . . .” Yari prompts, smiling.

“He says the next time we kiss, I’ll have to make it happen.” I release a breathy laugh. “I want to make it happen. I do, but I got some real shit to sort through.”

I fiddle with the strap of my purse.

“I always thought the issue would be falling for a bad man, like my mother did, but falling for a good man could be worse.”

“How do you figure?”

“With those other guys, it was just sex. We knew what it was. They could have my body, but nothing else. Kenan won’t settle for that, and I don’t know if I’m ready to trust him, to trust anyone, with more. I never have.”

“Well, maybe you could—”

A knock at the door cuts into whatever sage advice Yari was about to hand down.

“Oh!” I touch my pockets. “I need to grab my phone and get myself together.”

“I’ll get the door.”

“Looking like that?” I ask dubiously.

“Why the hell not?” she asks over her shoulder as she leaves my bedroom. “He’s not my date.”

“It’s not a date!”

I find my phone and hurry to the living room before Yari says or does something outrageous, which is her default. By the time I get in there, Kenan is already overpowering our small couch.

Gladiator.

He does look like a warrior in repose. Massive. Powerful. Intimidating. Towering even when sitting down, his face set in austere lines while he listens to whatever crazy thing Yaris is saying. He’s dressed casually in shorts and a white polo shirt.

Damn. He should never be allowed to wear white. The contrast with his skin . . . it’s too much. It should be outlawed. I’m already mentally drafting my letter to Congress.

When he catches sight of me over Yari’s shoulder, his expression softens and he smiles. It’s a slow build, taking its time moving from the dark, deep-set eyes to his beautiful mouth. Have I ever thought of a man’s mouth as beautiful? Kenan’s is, a precise, wide bow at the top, and a full, sensuous curve at the bottom. I remember how those lips felt on mine. How his tongue dove into my mouth, aggressive, seeking. I remember how he tasted.

Yari glances back at me and grins.

“Well, I have some chilling to do,” she says. “You kids have fun getting blisters walking all over Brooklyn.”

Once Yari’s gone, Kenan and I stare at each other for a few seconds, a warm, wordless greeting.

“Blisters, huh?” He finally speaks. “You said we’d be exploring Brooklyn, but you didn’t say anything about blisters.”

I chuckle and step closer to inspect his black and silver tennis shoes that look like there should be a dashboard under the laces. “I think you’ll be fine. I like those kicks.”

“Thanks. Designed them myself.”

I peer closer and notice Gladiator sketched along the side. “Oh, it’s your shoe.”

“Well, they let me help.”

“And I see you’re wearing our watch,” I tell him, walking to the door.