Page 105 of Butterfly Effect

Mel

You cool flying to San Diego instead of Edmonton today?

Me

Do I have a choice?

Mel

No.

Mel

Sending the details now.

Me

Cool, I’ll see you at the airport.

I have a couple of hours to head home, shower in peace, and grab my suitcase, but instead, I find myself lackadaisically using all the fancy settings on Wade’s bidet, strolling over to the kitchen to make myself some Balinese coffee and then going down a rabbit hole on Wikipedia on why it’s the most expensive coffee on the planet.

The coffee cherries of kopi luwak, I learn, are pooped out by what looks like the Indonesian version of a possum, but it’s totally sanitary to ingest because of its cleaning and roasting process.

Interesting.

I’m clearly lollygagging.

I wish I was actually gagging on Wade Boehner’s magnificent cock.

Pathetic.

The door of one guest room I pass—the one with the plumbing issue and ruined floor, I think—is ajar. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I peek in, expecting another of his abandoned home renovation projects.

I gawp at the brand-new, shiny half-court, clear backboard and the unused net hanging from the orange rim. A rack holding basketballs lines the wall closest to me.

My bare feet test the sealed hardwood with a run and a jump, landing with a thud. Solid. Likely high-performance. Pricey for a home court, but he can afford it.

Sauntering over to grab a ball, I drop it to the floor. It returns to my hand after a satisfyingthunk. The sound echoes as I walk it to the free throw line and get into position.

Four bounces. Bent elbows. I smile and blow out a sharp breath.

“Morning, Freckles.”

I fumble the release, and the ball bing-bongs off the rim. My smile vanishes, eyes narrowing at a smug, sweaty Wade, black t-shirt soaked to a darker shade. Those evil four-inch inseam shorts taunt me.

He follows my gaze and grins wider, yanking the shirt off with a single hand over his head, wiping between his pecs and abs before tossing it over the round of his shoulder.

“Better?”

“You made me miss.”

Wade catches the stray ball and dribbles. “Am I thatdistracting?”

“No, just cocky.”

The ball switches between hands, similar to the paratha last night. They cover a decent portion of its surface with their sheer size.

My arms motion to the space. “Since when are you so into basketball?”

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