Page 21 of Power Play Pursuit

Oh,I beg to differ.

Before long, we arrive at the apartment building we both call home. James parks out front, and we get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as we walk toward the front door.

“My pleasure. Let me know when you want to go back. Maybe we could go together?”

I cock my head to the side. “Don’t you have away games coming up soon?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Look who’s following my schedule now.”

“I’m following theRaptors’schedule,” I clarify, shaking my head. “I am living with one, after all.”

“Right. Well, we’re free tomorrow. After that, it’s our last home game before a week on the road. But I’ll probably swing by Golden Age the day after.”

“Okay, then yeah, maybe we can go together.”

He flashes his signature bright smile as we file into the elevator. The space feels small—way too small—and I struggle to take my next breath.

“This is you,” he says, stepping out of the elevator once we reach my floor. “Have a good night, Elizabeth.”

His eyes capture me, and a smile pulls at my lips. “Thanks, you too.”

“Oh, by the way,” he says, holding the elevator door open. “What color is it today?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Is it the satin purple one?” he continues, stepping into the elevator. “Because that one’s a winner.”

Realization hits me, and my mouth drops. “James! You’re—this is—” I stammer, my cheeks on fire.

“Fine,” he sighs, but his lips are twitching. “Don’t tell me. My imagination will fill in the blanks. Like it always does.”

The door closes on his smirk, and I stand frozen on the threshold, unable to move my feet as I try to process everything that happened today. From the surprise of seeing him at the nursing home to the car ride, and now him betting on the color of my underwear. Glancing around to make sure no one is looking, I tug at the hem of my jeans to check. My cheeks burn up when I realize he was right.

11

"My only weapon is a wooden broom."

Beth Bowen

“Hey! There you are!” Marissa greets me as she marches into the shop the next day. “Smells good in here.”

“Thanks.” I step out from the back, my apron firmly secured. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came in early to test a few new recipes.”

“Wow.” Her eyes widen as she steps behind the counter. “You’re on fire.”

I glanceover my shoulder at the small back room, now filled with trays of muffins, brownies, and pies covering every surface.

I tend to bake when I have something on my mind. Images of yesterday keep flashing in front of my eyes, and I can’t seem to get rid of them. They robbed me of my sleep—and apparently my mental health, if we go by the number of pastries scattered around this place. I don’t know what it is about James wearing glasses, but that did it for me. It makes him look so different, yet somehow, even more handsome. But most of all, for once, I think I just saw the real him. Not the cocky player who entertains the crowd and makes flirty comments—well, aside from that underwear remark—but the caring man who visits the retirement home where his grandma used to live, giving hours of his precious time to bring joy to the remaining residents.

“Thanks,” I say, shaking my head into focus. “I thought we could try some new pastries for the fall. I made apple crumble, pumpkin pie, apple spice muffins with caramel glaze, and caramel apple brownies.”

“Wow,” she breathes, her eyes sparkling. “Those look incredible, and tempting. But I need to watch my weight.”

“Oh, come on, Marissa,” I say, wiping my hands on a towel. She’s always had insecurities about her body. “You look fantastic.”

“You’re sweet,” she says with a small shake of her head, signaling that she doesn’t fully agree.

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