Page 3 of Deck His Balls

I nod, steadying my voice before responding. “Noon works. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

He nods before leaning in to kiss me on the cheek, leaving goosebumps running down my neck and arm.

He smiles, pulling back. “Perfect, my driver, James, will take you anywhere you need to go. See you tomorrow, Coach.”

With that, he turns to open the car door, and I slip in with a prominent smile on my face, knowing full well my dreams will be filled with basketball lessons with a very naked Joel.

Chapter Two

Joel

I’ve been hard since waking up from another dream about her. The same one that’s been haunting me for months—Tricia in tiny shorts and a whistle, playing stern coach until the lesson turns into something decidedly not PG-13. I adjust my basketball shorts and check my watch again. 11:30 AM. I’m ridiculously early for our noon session, but after last night’s auction and this morning’s wake-up call, I needed to burn off some energy.

My heart’s still pounding from outbidding Trevor. Twenty grand well spent to keep that creep away from Tricia. After what he did to Caress… I grip my coffee cup tighter, forcing the memories away. Focus on now. Focus on her—preferably the real version, not the one who’s been starring in my X-rated basketball fantasies.

The community court looks different in winter. Steam rises from my second coffee as I watch neighborhood kids scrape frost off the bleachers, their laughter echoing across the empty court. I’ve been here since ten, shooting hoops to burn off the kind of energy that cold showers can’t touch.

Not that I’ll tell Tricia that. Just like I won’t mention my varsity career or the fact that I still hit this court three times aweek at five AM in the summer and spring before heading to the office. Some secrets make life interesting.

My phone buzzes.

Caress:

Don’t mess this up, big bro. And thanks for dealing with Trevor last night.

I type back.

Me:

Shouldn’t you be resting?

Caress:

Shouldn’t you be focusing on not making a fool of yourself? Though after that white knight moment at the auction, you might actually have a shot.

Before I can respond, movement at the court entrance catches my eye. Tricia strides in wearing black leggings and an oversized Atlanta Dream hoodie, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that swings with each step. My mouth goes dry. The auction dress was stunning, but this? This is the Tricia who’s been starring in my dreams for months.

“You’re early.” She drops her gym bag, eyebrows raised.

“Maybe I was eager for my lesson.” I flash her my best boardroom smile, the one that usually has investors eating out of my hand.

“Save that million-dollar smile for someone who buys it.” She spins a basketball on one finger, unimpressed. “Though I guess after dropping twenty grand last night, you can afford to throw it around.”

“Best investment I’ve made this quarter.” My voice drops lower. “Especially given the alternative.”

Her spinning ball falters for just a second. “Trevor’s an ass.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” The memory of his smirk makes my jaw clench.

“Hey.” She throws me the ball, hard. “I’m a big girl. I can handle creeps.”

I catch it easily, and her eyes narrow. Just a fraction, but enough. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

For the next twenty minutes, she runs me through basic drills, and I do my best to look like I’m learning. But it’s hard to focus when she’s this close, adjusting my form with light touches that send electricity through my skin.

“Your footwork’s not bad,” she admits grudgingly. “For a suit.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

---