Page 29 of The Shake Off

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Jeez.” I swiped the towel from the rail and patted my face dry, trying not to make it any redder than it currently was, though I still resembled a tomato.

I was gripping the door handle when it dawned on me that I had no idea what time it was, or who was demanding entry into my apartment.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Ace. Open the fucking door, Payton!”

It was more out of shock and disbelief that I opened the door as quickly as I did, because I needed to see for myself that it was, indeed, Ace Watson.

And he did not look happy.

I must have been asleep for longer than I thought if they’d already made it back to the city, and I could have sworn they were staying in Philadelphia.

“What are you doing here?”

“You fucked with my mojo,” he snarled.

Under his black Lions ballcap, his eyes had narrowed so much I could barely see them, and the dark stubble which covered his jaw and those famous cheekbones only added to the effect. I’d been right earlier – he did look dangerous.

“Your what?”

“My mojo. I totally choked tonight.”

I grimaced in sympathy while also rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Yeah, I saw. I’m sorry.”

One of his thick fingers was jabbed in my direction. “And it’s your fucking fault.”

I blinked once, twice, then again as I tried to understand his words, but honestly, I was still groggy from being woken up so suddenly and having to wash my face at lightning speed.

“It’s my fault you played badly?”

“Yes.”

“How’d you figure that, exactly?”

“Because you told me…” he looked around to see if anyone else could hear, but my neighbors were away, and old Mrs. Kellerman upstairs was deaf and usually went to bed at eight. He pushed me into the apartment and closed the door. “You told me I was shit in bed. You’ve given me the yips.”

My arms crossed hard over my chest and my nostrils flared in outrage, because how dare he!

“Excuse me? I’ve given you no such thing. We used protection.”

He frowned, his brow dropping so it almost forced his eyes to narrow further. “You have. I couldn’t play tonight. I’ve got the yips and it’s because of you!”

“What the fuck are yips?!”

Ace took a step back from the volume I’d yelled, but really, again… howdarehe?

“It’s a death sentence!” He threw his hands in the air, but it still didn’t explain or make sense of anything he was saying, something he figured after he took one look at my face. “I couldn’t throw tonight. It was like my brain and my arm couldn’t connect. My mojo. It’s gone. It’s the yips.”

I sighed in relief at not having to make the emergency trip for antibiotics I was plotting ten seconds ago.

“Oh. Well, I’m sure it’ll come back for your next game.”

His head dropped low and his shoulders slumped almost in defeat. “Why did you have to tell me that?”

“Tell you what?”

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