Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(70)

“Kenya,” he says, turning to me. “This is Lotus DuPree. Lotus, my sister, Kenya.”

“What’s up?” Kenya studies me carefully, cautiously. I sense the protectiveness for her brother, and I like her right away. He’s been through a lot, and she should vet anyone who enters his life and has such intimate access to him.

“Hi.” I stand and reach for her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you, too.” She slants a teasing look at Kenan. “I’ve heard sooooo much about you. Like, so much.”

“Shut up, Ken,” Kenan says, shooting her a quick frown, and they seem so much like a typical brother and sister it makes me smile. “Introduce me to your friend.”

A slim woman steps into view from behind Kenya, holding her hand. She’s pretty with smooth skin the color of rich mocha. No makeup that I can detect. Long, curly lashes frame her big brown eyes. She wears baggy jeans, Chucks and a white Public Enemy T-shirt. Cornrows peek out from the edges of an Oakland Raiders cap.

“This is Jade,” Kenya says. “Jade, my brother, Kenan, and his . . .” She looks between the two of us as if she’s waiting for confirmation on how she should refer to me.

“This is my girlfriend, Lotus,” Kenan answers dryly. “Nice to meet you, Jade. I haven’t heard as much about you. Kenya’s been keeping secrets.”

“That’s aight,” Jade says with a chuckle. “Nobody been talking about her ass either.”

We all laugh, sit, and settle into easy conversation over my Chardonnay, Kenan’s water, and the beers the two girls order.

“So you work in fashion?” Kenya asks.

I’m mid-bite of my orecchiette pasta when she asks, so I gulp it down and wipe my mouth with a napkin before answering. “I do. For Jean-Pierre Louis.”

“Never heard of her,” Kenya says, picking up a slice of her pizza.

“Him,” I correct with a smile. “He’s the founding designer for JPL Maison.”

“Fancy.” Jade chuckles. “If it’s not Converse, Nike or Gap, you have to school me.”

“Kenya, your brother already told me you play ball.” I turn the question back around to them. “And what do you do, Jade?”

“I write music,” Jade says and shrugs. “Been doing it all my life, but kinda new at getting paid for it. So far, so good.”

“Speaking of which,” Kenya says, glancing at her watch, “should we be heading to the park? The show starts soon, right, babe?”

Jade nods and glances at her phone, lit up with a text message. “Oh, this is Grip. Lemme see what he’s talking about.”

My mouth is hanging open. Kenan gently presses my chin up to close my lips and whispers, “You surprised or just catching flies?”

“She knows Grip?” I whisper back, hoping I’m being discreet, but I’m low-key about to lose my shit.

“Yeah. Kenya says they’re cousins. I didn’t tell you? We have front-row seats. We’ll go backstage to meet him after.”

“Um, nope,” I say. “You skipped right over that part.”

“I’ll have to communicate better now that you’re my girlfriend,” he says. His smile fades. “I just said it and didn’t even ask you if it was okay or if—”

I don’t consider his sister or his sister’s girlfriend sitting right there, but lean forward to cut off his explanation with a kiss. It’s quick, but it’s enough. He cups my face, and he kisses me again, longer, and with such tenderness it soothes the soreness from my confrontation with Chase. Not the bruises on my arms, but the other ways Chase hurt me today. Violating my privacy. His attempts to objectify me. Every way he tried to make me feel less fades in the shadow of this kiss.

“For real, though?” Kenya’s amused voice butts in. “Y’all just going for it at the table?”

Kenan’s fingers tighten on my face so I don’t pull away. “Yup,” he says against my lips with a smile. “Can you blame me?”

When I pull away, Jade is texting her famous cousin, I presume, but Kenya is looking at me, and her eyes brim with as much concern as humor.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom before we go,” Kenan says. “Be right back.”

When he’s gone, I look at Kenya, waiting for whatever comes next.

“So here’s the deal,” she says slowly. “I need to know what’s up with you.”

I lift my chin and take the last sip of my wine before setting the glass back down.

“What’s up with me?” I ask. “In what way? What do you mean?”

“You know the deal with Bridget’s drama,” she says. “I heard she rolled up in your job.”

“Damn,” Jade mutters, flicking a glance at me before turning her attention back to her phone.

“When all that shit came out, if Kenan hadn’t stopped me, I would have kicked Bridget’s ass,” Kenya says, her face serious. “And that’s the truth. I just wanna know if I’m gonna have to kick yours at some point for doing my brother wrong.”

I always did admire the direct approach.

“Don’t be fooled by my size,” I start by telling her. “My ass doesn’t get kicked.”