Page 25 of Courtside

His brain was breaking. Did she seriously just jump from commenting on how another man had been in bed tobasketball?

“Oh?” Apparently his entire vocabulary had been reduced to a single word.

“He’s right handed,” she said, matter of fact, “but his shot improves by 25% when he’s shooting on the left side.”

Huh.

It was the kind of thing he was looking for when he watched game tape, but honestly he’d been so caught up in watching the team as a whole that he’d just only just started to scratch the surface of evaluating the individual players.

He looked over at Sage, curious. “Been watching them play?”

She shrugged. “I’m around. Sometimes we’re in the gym at the same time, and the other night I rebounded for him.”

“You still play?” Based on how she’d reacted to questions about her playing during their meeting, he’d assumed that she’d left the game behind.

“Of course I still play.” She looked at him with a sad smile. “Well, I shoot. Alone.” One of her hands reached up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Do you?”

“Not as much as I want to,” he admitted. “But yes, occasionally.”

Sage moved toward a set of stairs that led to the second story apartments. He followed behind, never letting his eyes leave her. If she stumbled, he would be there.

“If you weren’t you, I’d say we should play together,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at him. Her mouth curved up into a smirk. “I think I could probably beat you.”

He chuckled, trying to imagine the woman in front of him on the court. He found that it wasn’t such a reach to imagine her playing, her long body stretching toward the basket.

He definitely shouldn’t find that image arousing.

What the hell was wrong with him?

When she stopped at a door and fumbled with a key ring, he looked down, reading the mat that said “Welcome-ish” in looping cursive. She opened the door, turning for a moment and locking eyes with him.

Why did she have to be solovely?

She looked at him with a small, crooked smile as she leaned against the door jamb. “Night, Coach,” she said softly.

“Goodnight, Sage.” He dipped his chin, already starting to back away even though all he wanted to do was follow her.

CHAPTER7

NO MORE BUTT TALK

SAGE

“Morning!”

Sage glared across the console as Brinley dropped into the front seat of her car, looking polished and refined as ever in black leggings and a matching quarter zip.

Stupid sisters who could drink stupid tequila and still look like that before noon.

Brinley gave her a knowing smile as she handed her a to-go cup. “I got you a tea.”

The perfectly brewed Earl Gray with honey and milk was exactly how she liked it. It at least started to make up for the excruciating pain of taking her sister to the airport the morning after drinking way too much.

“So.” Brinley looked her over, eyes lingering on the mascara Sage knew was smudged under her eyes and the bun she’d piled her hair into. “Have fun last night?”

“Eh,” Sage said. She didn’t hold back from Brinley. There was no point in trying to lie to her sister. “I hooked up with that guy Gus, who was fine.”

“Fine?”

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