Page 71 of Shot Taker

“It’s part of the campaign to get you to the all-star game,” my agent says.

I set the product on the conference table. “It’s terrible.”

“Bad enough you’d risk not getting to the all-star game?” Chloe demands.

I sling an arm over the back of the next chair. “I don’t want to hawk shoe polish.”

My agent says, “It’s whisky, not shoe polish. You want anything sexier, it’ll have to come in a paper bag.”

I leave my meeting bottle in hand and swing by the wall where Nova’s working. Since Christmas, we’ve been on the road and I’ve barely seen her.

Today she’s not on the ladder but on her feet, working at the bottom of the wall.

I stop beside her and inspect her work. The mural is more than halfway done. The skyline is crisp and clear, and she’s putting final touches on the starters.

My girl has a talent, that’s for sure.

“Needs more muscle,” I decide.

Nova looks up and beams. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.”

Nova presses up on her toes and throws her arms around my neck—at least as far as they’ll go given our height difference.

I inhale her scent. I missed the hell out of her. I miss her smile, her laugh, her brightness. I feel more whole just being in her presence.

Another couple employees are at the end of the hall, and I wait until they’re barely gone to lift her and swing her around. When I set her back down, my fingers thread into her hair as I drag her mouth up to mine and kiss her thoroughly.

“What’s that?” she asks breathlessly when I pull back and she notices the bottle.

“My ticket to the all-star game.”

“Cute.” She grins, clearly pleased. “Finisher? Most guys don’t have a problem finishing.”

“Uh-huh. I can last longer than you, Pink. Tonight, I’ll prove it to you. Multiple times.”

She bites her lip, reminding me it’s been way too long since I had her alone. I’m a second away from dragging her to the nearest closet.

“What does it mean if you make the all-star team?” she asks.

It’s an earnest question. Sometimes I feel so at ease around her that I forget how new she is to the sport.

“I go to all-star weekend. Play in the big game. See guys from all across the league. Talk shit. Party.”

“So, it’s like a high school sleepover for athletes.”

A laugh rumbles through me. “Sure.” I rub a hand over her head, and she ducks away.

Fuck, this girl is good for my soul. She keeps my ego in check, at least a little bit, and I love seeing the world through her eyes.

I want her to soften my edges while I rough up hers.

“Come with me,” I ask on impulse. “It would mean a lot if you were there.”

Her eyes widen. “But you haven’t gotten in yet.”

“Details. I’ve been an all-star the last three years I was healthy, Pink.”

---