Page 15 of Game Day

“Tell me it’s crazy,” she whispers at me.

“It’s crazy,” I agree, but my tone makes it clear that crazy isn’t a dealbreaker.

“We couldn’t.” Her eyes widen, and my lips twitch.

“We could.”

Her brows shoot up. “Are you serious?”

“As a time-out with ten seconds left. If you still want to,” I add.

Nova’s excited inhale tells me everything I need to know. I stroke a thumb over her cheek. "Then it’s settled. I'll call Kat. You do Mari and Harlan."

"Okay. Let's do it." She beams.

We’re getting married.

Right here in Colorado.

5

CLAY

"You too good to guard me, MVP?" Miles taunts.

He's dribbling up the court, and I'm matching his steps even though I'm going backward.

"You show me you did more than drink cappuccinos all summer, I'll get up on you," I respond.

“Drinking? No. Making? Yes. The six-week Barista Masters course I took was no joke. Did I tell you there was an?—”

“Application to get accepted? Yeah, you mentioned it,” Jay calls.

Miles lifts his jersey, and I don’t need to look to see he's in as good shape as any of us.

It’s a surprise that one of the most low-key guys I’ve ever played with decided to log the extra hours this summer, but a good one.

He breaks past me, squares up for a fadeaway, and sinks it.

Swish.

Slow clapping from the stands makes us look up.James is standing a few rows up, along with the mayor.

"Since when is this an open practice?" Jay asks under his breath.

"James and I were discussing how excited we are for the team's prospects for the coming season." The mayor’s eyes run over us, landing on me as she smiles.

I’m not thrilled to see the suit who signs my paychecks standing with the woman who runs this city. Particularly the day her dinner party where I made some vague commitments, mostly out of devotion to my future bride.

The Kodiaks owner wasn’t my favorite person even before he traded me to LA without my approval. We’ve made a fragile truce—I'm the most popular athlete in this city, and he doesn't want to piss off the fan base.

Still, this is another reminder of his tendency to overpromise.

On the court, my guys are organizing into formation for the next drill. Our capable coaching staff and trainers stand in huddles with clipboards and iPads. There's a spot in the rafters waiting for the banner we'll be unfurling at the first game of the season.

"Clay! Phone!" Rookie holds up the device from my seat.

Our coach shoots me a look. "No phones in practice."

---