Page 48 of The Baller

Radley stepped out of the car; one dark-green Lycra-clad leg hit the sidewalk, followed by the other. And…

Holyshit… where had those legs come from? Had I been walking around with my eyes closed? I made a mental note to see the eye doctor. Longandtoned, curving into an ass I’d already been dreaming about on the regular.

But fuck me… those legs. What was it Cosmo said? Oh yes, wear them as earrings.

Even though I’d seen her not an hour ago on FaceTime, and three days ago in the bookstore, she was more beautiful than I remembered. The fall leaves were blowing gently around her, putting on a show so they weren’t upstaged, but they were wasting their time. She’d outshine the sun. I closed my mouth before my jaw unhinged permanently.

How did I ever question not texting her the first time?

“Hello,” she said with a smile, that nervous, slightly anxious, not sure what to do with herself smile. The same one I was wearing.

Before I could speak, the agents I’d met at the bookstore jumped out of the Escalade to join Special Agent America as it eased back into the traffic.

“He…” The word stuck in my throat with an un-dignified squeak. I coughed it away and tried again. “Hello.”

Radley’s eyes swept over me, rising up from my legs, over my abs, and lingering a second longer than she needed on my chest.

Interesting.

I hoped I was more subtle when I’d been checking her out.

She pointed to my arm. “What’s behind your back?”

“A gift.” I removed my hand, holding out the black New York Lions ballcap I’d brought for her, the same as the one Iwas wearing. “I know you don’t like us matching, but I kinda do.”

Her eyes flared wide as she gasped. “I can’t wear that!”

Not the reaction I was looking for. “Why?”

“I’m a Phillies fan.”

Her face was so serious and earnest that I couldn’t help but smile. Even the agents standing a couple of meters away cracked one.

“Not today you’re not. Think of it as a disguise.”

“I’m disguised as a Lions fan?”

I laughed louder at the disgust in her voice. “There’s over two million of them in New York City; you'll blend right in.”

She frowned but took it anyway and pulled it on, threading her long ponytail through the space at the back. I was so tempted to tug on the end of it, but instead, I flicked the peak of her cap.

“See? You look amazing. Being a Lions’ fan suits you.” I winked, enjoying the scowl she was shooting directly at me. Though if looks could kill, hers would only cause a slight bruise. “Ready?”

“Mr. Weston?”

I spun around at the sound of someone calling my name. Special Agent America was looking right at me, waiting for a response. Huh. Mr. Weston was a definite upgrade from whatever he’d called me a few weeks ago.

“You can call me, Lux.”

“What’s the route you intend to take?” he continued, clearly ignoring me, and his tone said he’d rather I was anyone else. Maybe he was a Phillies fan too, or he was still pissed I’d thought he was a creeper. “Agent Hernandez will run a maximum of ten yards ahead of you, and Agent O’Leary andI will be behind.”

I didn’t ask if it was also by a maximum of ten yards. Or whether he’d forgotten his sense of humor, if he even had one. Probably not.

I pointed at the entrance on the corner. “We’ll go along the path to the left as we enter, running clockwise down the Upper East Side. We’ll assess how far we go once we’re past the reservoir, but let me know if you need to stop and catch your breath at any point,” I grinned.

It took a beat, but a smile appeared, though it was the designated ten yards away from his eyes. “We run alongside moving cars. We’ll be fine.”

“No need to brag, Special Agent America,” I replied, and turned to Radley. “Ready, Goldilocks?”

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