Page 73 of Not Just a Trick Play

As I reach for a raincoat, a flash of pink catches my eye. I bend for closer examination.

The handcuffs.

I bite my lip, casting a swift glance around to confirm I’m still alone. Quick as lightning, my fingers filch them out, wincing when metal drags against metal.

The cold, steel shackles are closed, but the key is wedged into the lock.

Flashback of that first madcap encounter flood in. Who would have guessed that my initial panic and determined “I’ll never see him again” would send me on this never-ending collision course with him? How did I go from seeing him as a charming distraction to someone I can’t imagine not having in my life?

My eyes drift back to the Twizzlers.

It was foolish to think I wouldn’t develop feelings. Because Jake Cunningham is irresistible. In bed and out of it. He spoils me with sweets, holds me when I’m scared out of my mind, and steadies me when I’ve had a drink too many. He’s taught me so much, all the while making it seem like I’m the clever one. He teases, he supports, he believes. From the moment we met, to just last night when he bragged about my idea to anyone who’d listen, looking at me the entire time as if I was capable of anything.

As if Iwaseverything.

When I’m with Jake, reality takes on a different flavor—richer, fuller. Different, becauseheis different. He never treats me like less than I am, as if I were a convenience, or an unexpected consequence that he’s making do with.

Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but something zings through me, a fizzy, sparkly concoction of rightness whenever I’m near him. One that I crave more of.

Because it is more. This isn’t the same fairy tale fantasy I built with Ben—those castles in the clouds I wasn’t even sure I wanted to inhabit. No, this is solid ground, New York concrete, and everything I want is spread out in front of me, waiting.

I just need to take the first step. Whether I’ll have company along the way? I’m ready to find out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

JAKE

I’d hated leavingAmelia this morning. But duty called. Not that I was much good on the field. Only after I spied her in the stands did a measure of peace settle over me. When I ordered her to get my raincoat, it was clear she was embarrassed. Not that she needs to be. I like that she trusted me. I liked seeing her with her hair down.

Probably need to tell her that before she goes and hides. I’m about to go seek her out when my phone pings.

Sweets

My place. 8pm.

That’s all her text says. Well, that plus a winky face. Amelia? Emojis? Intriguing.

This is a change. A welcome one. Because I’m ready for something different myself. Pretending this is still just sex? Stupid. We both know it’s more. What “more” means exactly, I’m not sure, but I’m willing to find out. I think it’s time to renegotiate the deal. Keep things going beyond the season. I’ve probably only made my way up to a three-star rating at best.

The trick is to figure out if Amelia feels the same. And if she’s not quite there, well, then I’ll have to nudge her in that direction. Am I crazy to bring this up with her now? Should I hold off? No, life’s too short for should-haves and might-bes. I’m itching to leap into whatever comes next with her.

I sprint up the four floors to her apartment, and before I step inside the aroma of something baking, savory with a slightly sweet note hits me. There’s a richness to it that has my mouth watering.

Wait—is shecooking?

I pause, momentarily thrown. It’s not like we’ve never had a meal together. There was that brunch with Yvonne, after all, but Amelia’s never cooked.

I hit the bell, and a second later, she opens the door.

“Whoa.”

Amelia’s in a short dress that fits snugly, different from the usual don’t-expect-more-just-come-fuck-me attire of band T-shirts, ripped jeans, and sneakers.

Her face flushes pink, but she moves aside and gestures me in. One step inside and I halt. The small table’s set for two, with candles flickering like it’s a scene fromThe Bachelor, wine chilling in a plastic ice bucket, and plates arranged with precision. And the blue napkins? Folded into peacocks. This is definitely an attempt to impress.

“What’s all this?” I swing back around to face her.

While her pose is confident, she bites her lip the slightest bit, and shyness flickers in her eyes. My next teasing comment dies in my throat. “Sweets…”

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