Page 33 of Hotshot

It hurt. Ella rubbed it.

Marina paid no heed.

“You never told me you were having coffee with Sloane!”

“I told you I was helping her out. You saw us together!”

“Professionally! Helping her to drive!” Marina shrieked, one hand on the now-forgotten coffee machine. “You didn’t say you were hanging out. Havingcoffee.”

Ella shrugged like it was nothing. Which it was. Sloane was just a normal person.

But then again, she wasn’t at all. She was a Rolls Royce. A Ferrari. She gleamed.

“How’s she coping being single?” Marina’s gaze seemed to drill into Ella’s brain. She only took a few seconds to jump to the conclusion Ella knew she would. “There’s nothing you’re not telling me, is there? Because you two were very pally when I saw you the other week. I believe I said words to that effect, and you shot me down, telling me it was professional only. But now there’s coffee…”

Ella pictured her hand on Sloane’s arm. The electricity in the room. The heat between her legs, both now and then.

She needed to nip this in the bud, for herself and for Marina.

“There’s nothing going on. I’m her colleague and neighbour.” No need to tell Marina about finding Sloane’s family. That would only fuel her fire. “We live in the same building, we get on, we work together. I’m helping out a little more now she’s injured, that’s all.” Ella’s words were coming out sure and true. She tapped her hand on the top of Marina’s, resting on the coffee machine. “But I can vouch for this machine.”

Marina put a hand on her hip, and assessed Ella.

She was working out whether she should push this any further.

Ella gave her a sharp look.

Marina raised a single eyebrow. “Okay,” she replied, still trapping Ella with her gaze. “How is her injury, anyway? Better or worse than the papers are saying?”

“About the same. Still early days. It might mean two months out, maybe less. Or if it doesn’t heal how the doctors want, who knows?”

“Is she going to need an operation?”

“They don’t think so. Just recovery time, which is the hardest for any athlete to accept.”

“Are you really not coming to Christmas? Is she anything to do with that decision?”

“Of course not!” Ella replied, perhaps a little too forcefully. “I’ve just got a lot on and I need some downtime. I’m an introvert. It’s how we work.” It wouldn’t be the first time she hadn’t gone to see her family. Christmas used to be with her Mum, aunt, uncle and cousins, or just Ella and her mum towards the end. Sometimes, Ella just preferred a quiet Christmas.

“A Christmas away from Brad’s kids?” Brad was Marina’s brother and had three children under six.

“I never said that.” But she gave her a confirmatory smile all the same. “I’ll see your parents before, if not on the day, so don’t fret.” She patted the coffee machine. “Now, are we buying you this baby, or not?” Anything to get Marina’s attention away from Sloane. It seemed to work.

“You must be on a wedge of cash if you’re buying me this.” Marina kissed Ella’s cheek. “Just remember, I knew you when you were crap.”

Now it was Ella’s turn to laugh hard. Her cousin had a way with words.

* * *

Ella got backfrom her Saturday shopping a little buzzed from her two cocktails, and on a high from life. That’s what spending time with her cousin did for her. She only lived two hours away on the coast. Marina had been right about one thing: Ella did need to make more time for her family whether it was Christmas or not.

She glanced at the top of her building as the cab dropped her off: Sloane’s lights were on. Should she see how she was? The team had a big game tomorrow, and this was the second one Sloane was going to miss. Once in her flat, Ella messaged Sloane to see if she needed anything. The text came back instantly:Cream for my coffee!

Ella walked to her fridge. She had a carton of cream she’d been intending to use in a recipe. Sloane was in luck.

Five minutes later, she stood on Sloane’s doorstep, assessing Sloane’s sad, gorgeous face. This was the side not many people got to see. The face of the defeated athlete. Luckily, Ella was a pro at dealing with it.

“You smell good.” Sloane pushed the door shut and followed Ella through to her lounge, the tap of her crutches and her orthopaedic boot echoing on the laminate floor.

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