Hoops Holiday

by Ryan, Kennedy

  “It is working.” I tip up on my bare toes to string kisses along his jawline. “We’re working, Deck.”

  “I know, but it could be easier. SportsCo has an LA office,” he reminds me, glancing up through those thick lashes. “Couldn’t you . . .”

  He trails off because we’ve had this discussion more than once.

  “They do have an LA office, but right now they want Twofer based in New York.” I pause significantly. “I know because I asked.”

  He pulls back, surprise and pleasure mingling in his eyes. “You asked?”

  “I want this to work, too, Deck.” I blink at the emotion that overtakes me when I think about how patient he’s been the last year. How he helped me so much as I got past Will’s death. “I want us to work so much. I love…”

  I catch myself. What the actual fuck? We haven’t said those words yet. I know them. I believe them. With every fiber of my being, I believe them. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else, even if right now thousands of miles separate us most of the time. But that’s a big step. Those words are a huge step, and the last man I gave them to broke my heart in the worst ways with the worst goodbye I could ever imagine.

  Deck doesn’t look thrown off by my slip, but just tucks my hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. I know he loves me. His eyes glow with it. I think the only reason he hasn’t said it yet is because he wants me to be sure. He knows how fragile I was after Will, and he’s handling me like glass.

  Not in the bedroom. In bed, he fucks like an animal, and gets no complaints from me.

  In every other way, he’s been extraordinarily careful with me; extraordinarily patient. And, yes. I love him for it.

  I brace my hands on either side of his face, and lock my eyes with his, losing myself in the intoxicating bourbon of his gaze.

  “I love you, MacKenzie Decker,” I say, my voice, my eyes, my heart steady and unwavering.

  He swallows deeply. His hands tighten at my waist, feeling like they’ll crush me, but I don’t even whimper. I want to feel him any way I can.

  “Avery,” he finally says. “Baby, I love you so much sometimes I think I’m gonna explode with it.”

  He dips his head into the curve of my neck, feathering kisses there and into the collar of my dress.

  “And I know I’m demanding,” he goes on. “Always asking for more of your time, for you to come here more, to meet me on the road. It’s not fair—”

  “You come to me, too. You travel constantly. I’m always working. We have busy lives, but call me, and there’s no place I won’t come. This relationship is important to me.” I kiss his cheek, scrunch my fingers in the silky gold dappled hair. “You know that.”

  “I do know,” he says, his eyes earnest, sober, loving. “And I don’ t take it for granted. I want to make you happy, Ave.”

  I learned from Will that happiness starts with yourself; that your happiness can’t truly hinge on one other person in this world. In the end, other people can’t complete us, but can love us in our brokenness if we let them. There is a happiness you find with another when you’re first happy with yourself. The joy of shared struggles and ups and downs and trials and I’m there for you, and you’re there for me. It makes the contentment you find first with yourself even brighter, even deeper. And as we hold each other, the cool beach breeze blowing gently over us, I’m reminded of Deck’s patience as I figured that out; as I dragged myself out of the mire of guilt and shame and pain.

  I have no doubt that’s the love Deck and I share.

  “I am happy, Deck.” I snuggle deeper into my big man, his arms wrapped around me and sheltering me from the whipping breeze. “I’m already happy.”

  Introduction

  You must read LONG SHOT to appreciate this Christmas-themed bonus material. The events take place after the book.

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  If you’ve read it, did you miss Iris and August’s TWO bonus chapters at the end of their book?

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  August

  There’s a million things I love about playing in the NBA.

  Christmas Day games – not one of them. Christmas Day away games, even worse. But that’s what we had today. An evening game in New York. So my family wouldn’t have to travel on Christmas, Iris, Sarai and I flew in from San Diego yesterday, stayed in a hotel and enjoyed a leisurely Christmas morning. Even though we were away from home, at least we were together. With the game over, and it being so late, we decided to stay in New York tonight.

  “Good game, Rook. Nice shot for the win.”

  Kenan “Gladiator” Ross’ compliment comes with his favorite jab. I catch his over-the-shoulder smirk in the Knicks’ guest locker room.

  “I got too many seasons under my belt,” I tell him, buttoning my shirt. “For you to still be calling me Rook.”

  “Nah.” Fresh from the shower, he towels residual water from his head and neck. “Breath still smelling like Similac.”

  The few guys left in the locker room snicker, and I shake my head, chuckling and packing my bag.

  “At least I’m not a veteran scared to talk to a girl I’m crushing on,” I say.

  “Ohhhhh,” Denny, the center we picked up over the summer says, putting a fist to his mouth and laughing. “You got a crush, Glad? Who?”

  Kenan narrows his eyes at me, but a good-natured grin lifts one corner of his mouth.

  “He’s lying,” Kenan says, pulling a sweater over his head. “I’m a grown ass man. I don’t have crushes.”

  “Oh, then you don’t care that your not-crush is coming to Deck’s Christmas party tonight?” I ask.

  Since the game finished so late, MacKenzie Decker, our president of basketball operations, invited those of us staying in New York to a party at a hotel nearby.

  I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’ll just call Iris and tell her not to bring—”

  Kenan snatches my phone and laughs. “Fuck you, August.”

  “That’s what you get for calling me Rook.” I grab my phone, grin and turn to close my locker.

  Kenan steps closer and leans one huge shoulder against the neighboring locker.

  “So is she coming to the party for real?” he asks, voice lowered. “Or you just being a dick?”

  “Sorry.” I turn fake-innocent eyes his way. “Who we talking about?”

  Not the most affable man under the best of circumstances, Kenan looks like I’m thinning his patience. His whole face seems to tighten, which perversely makes me want to jerk his chain even more.

  “Alright, alright.” I hold up my hands as if warding off a blow. “Don’t hit your boy. Yeah, Lotus is coming. Least, last I heard from Iris, she was.”

  “Cool.” Kenan nods, and his typically impassive expression gives way to what looks like anticipation.

  “If you like her, why not just talk to her, man?” I ask, adjusting my gym bag on my shoulder.

  “She’s very good at letting me know she wouldn’t be into it, into me,” Kenan says wryly. “Without even saying a word.”

  He shakes his head and offers a bemused shrug. “There’s just something about her. I don’t know. The last thing I should be thinking about is some chick, considering the shit the last one is putting me through.”

  “Bridget still tripping?”

  “Tripping?” Kenan scoffs. “Man, not only is she holding up our divorce, but she’s moving my daughter here to New York.”

  “Damn. You talked to Deck? You know his ex pulled a stunt like that. Moved his daughter from the East coast to LA.” A dry laugh rattles my chest as we make our way out of the locker room and down the tunnel leading to the private parking lot. “Lucky for us. He probably wouldn’t have come to the West Coast if she hadn’t.”

  “I haven’t talked to much of anyone except my lawyers.” Kenan
grimaces. “My drama’s been talked about, dragged through the press enough already.”

  I wince because TMZ couldn’t get enough of Bridget’s affair with Kenan’s former teammate. For someone as private and reserved as Kenan, the inescapable salacious coverage was his worst nightmare.

  “Hey, I know that was a shit show,” I say. “But it’s died down. Old news.”

  “You think it’ll stay dead once she re-airs our dirty laundry on reality TV?” Kenan asks, a bitter edge to his voice.

  I stop in my tracks and face him, searching his stony expression in the poorly lit tunnel.

  “What the hell?” I wait for him to stop and face me. “What do you mean?”

  “The reason she’s moving to New York is to be on one of those reality shows about ballers’ wives or some shit.” He sucks his teeth, annoyance in every tense line of his six-foot-seven frame. “We’re this close to a divorce and haven’t lived together in over a year, and she signs on as a baller’s wife? What baller?”

  “Glad, man, I’m sorry.”

  We resume walking to the lot and Kenan shrugs.

  “I’ll deal with it,” he says. “The worst part is how it affects my daughter. She’s old enough to hear all the shit about us, but not old enough to really understand. She still doesn’t get that Bridge and I will never be together again.”

  “I don’t get her,” I say. “Bridget, I mean. She had everything. Great husband. Great kid. Great life, and she threw it all away for what?”

  “For who is a better question. Dude’s not even checking for Bridget now, and from what I hear, he just got engaged. I mean, I’m no picnic. I’m not an easy guy to get close to. I know that. And we had our issues, but I never thought . . .

  Kenan frowns and squeezes the bridge of his nose.

  “Anyway, count your blessings, Rook. You got a good woman.”

  Just the thought of Iris waiting for me at the end of this tunnel fires my blood and squeezes my heart in my chest. Count my blessings? Every day. And pretty soon, we’ll have another blessing, though Iris and I have kept that to ourselves for now.

  “Yeah, she and Sarai are the best things that ever happened to me,” I reply, shooting Kenan a grin. “They’re here. We won’t stay long at the party. We have Sarai with us.”

  “Surprised you’re not heading down to Baltimore to see your folks?”

  “My mom and stepdad are in Hawaii, if you can believe it. Jared gave them a trip for their anniversary, and they decided to go there for Christmas. Hey, they’re both off for the holidays, so I guess it works for them. At least we were all together for Thanksgiving.”

  “And Jared? What are he and Banner up to for Christmas?”

  “Staying west. They’re spending Christmas with her folks in San Diego,” I say. “So with my family scattered all over the place this year, New York’s as good a place as any to land. Especially with that W we got tonight.”

  We fist bump, celebrating another win. This season is already going better than last. We just knew we’d make the playoffs last year, but ultimately fell short. We’ve been building this franchise ever since I came to the NBA, and I think, I hope, this time we’ll make the playoffs.

  “Hey, start counting,” Kenan says, nodding to the black SUV where Iris and Sarai wait for me. “There’s your blessings.”

  I hope I never get used to the passion and protectiveness that surges through me when I first see Iris. Though I’m guilty of what my old coach termed the impulsivity of youth and the quick temper that often comes with it, I’ve never considered myself a violent person. But had I known how Caleb was hurting Iris when she was with him, I think I might have killed him. That sounds harsh and wrong, but seeing that season of our lives through hindsight– the sadness lurking behind Iris’ eyes, the way she’d startle when I touched her unexpectedly, the scars she explained away – futile rage consumes me for a second. Futile because there’s no outlet for it. Caleb is dead, and I’ve never felt sorry about that.

  As soon as we join my girl at the SUV, I pull Iris close and kiss her hair. She snuggles into me briefly, then tips up to kiss the corner of my mouth. Her eyes are hot and hungry when they meet mine. We made love this morning before Sarai woke up and bounded into our bed at the hotel, but it’s like we’ve gone weeks, not hours, without making love.

  “Good game,” she whispers to me, discreetly brushing a hand over my chest under my coat.

  My muscles tighten under the light touch of her fingers. I’m tempted to skip this party. I want her to myself in every position doing every dirty thing we can dream up. But she’s already changed and she looks so beautiful. Her dark hair has grown, and it spills nearly to her waist, thick and shiny. The gold dress of sequins molds her slim frame and caresses every curve. Gold stilettos give her a few inches and further define the sexy muscles of her calves.

  “Damn, you look good,” I whisper into her ear.

  “So do you,” she whispers back, her hand drifting down between us under my coat to squeeze my dick. “Good enough to eat.”

  Holy shit.

  “You two just gonna hump each other in the parking lot?” Kenan asks, threading laughter through the words. “I’m here for it, but you might want to remember the youth among us.”

  Iris and I both turn our heads to find Sarai staring at us over the half-up window of the SUV. The other most important girl in my life.

  “Hey, Princess,” I say, returning her wide, missing-a-tooth grin. “How’d I do tonight?”

  “You did good, Daddy.” She wags one tiny finger. “Mommy says you still need to work on that D.”

  Kenan’s laughter booms in the nearly-empty parking garage.

  “From the mouths of babes,” he says. “I keep trying to tell him that jump shot will only go so far. He better bow up.”

  “You’re right.” I walk Iris over to the car. “I should listen to my elders.”

  “Boy, I’ll be playing til I’m forty if I want,” Kenan says, patting his famous rock-hard slab of abs under his sweater. “The older you get, the smarter you better play.”

  “Okay, okay,” Iris says, laughing and turning toward the open door. “How about you guys talk ball when we get to the party?”

  I help her step onto the running board and into the back seat. I buckle her in and rest a hand on her stomach.

  “How are we doing today?” I ask, an irrepressible grin taking over my whole face. I’ve been smiling for a week straight. I’ve probably been smiling in my sleep, I’m so thrilled.

  “Um . . . we’re fine,” Iris whispers, casting a cautious glance over my shoulder at Kenan. “And aren’t we supposed to be waiting to share things?”

  “Yeah. Right.” I turn to face Kenan and decide to rib him a little before we part ways for the party. “Iris, is Lotus still coming? Kenan wanted to know.”

  Kenan’s smile drops, and it looks like he wants to turn all that power and muscle to grinding me to dust.

  “What?” I offer him a nonchalant shrug and wide eyes. “You did ask.”

  A muscle ticks under the taut skin of his jaw.

  “She’s coming, yeah,” Iris says, leaning forward a little to smile at Kenan. “She’s swinging through just for a little while.”

  “I’ll see you guys there,” Kenan says without acknowledging Iris’s statement. He gives her a tight smile, glares at me, and turns to walk toward the SUV the team sent to take him to the party.

  “You’re awful, teasing him like that.” Iris belies her scolding with a mischievous smile. “But I did kinda love the look on his face.”

  “Right? What did Lotus say when you told her Kenan was coming to the party?”

  “Weeeelll,” Iris says, drawing the word out, a sneaky grin lighting her pretty face. “I didn’t exactly mention it.”

  “Oh, this should be interesting.”

  The car pulls off and heads for the parking lot exit. I turn my attention to Sarai, who has been uncharacteristically quiet.

  “You okay over there,
Princess?” I push her hair back and lift her little chin to study her unique violet-blue eyes. She nods wordlessly, and long lashes droop lazily over drowsy eyes.

  “She’s tired,” Iris says. “But refused to skip the party altogether. Always afraid she’s going to miss something. I don’t want to stay long, though.”

  Iris rolls a lust-filled glance from my head to my toes, and my dick gives a knowing twitch.

  She bites her bottom lip and looks at me from under her lashes. “I want to get back to the room. We have unfinished business, Mr. West.”

  I glance from Sarai, watching us with sleepy interest to the rearview mirror, checking if the driver is tuned into our conversation. I lean over, nudging Iris’ hair back with my nose and biting her ear lobe. A shiver runs through her.

  “You are so damn horny lately,” I whisper. “Is it the baby?”

  Saying it out loud, even just for the two of us, feels amazing. We’re having a baby. We haven’t told Sarai she’s getting a little brother or sister. We haven’t told my parents or Jared and Banner. We’ve held it close like a secret for the last few days. A secret we made, just the two of us, and for a few days at least, it belongs only to us.

  “The hormones may heighten things,” she whispers back, her eyes, glinting with amber and onyx. “But I’ve always wanted you.”

  “And there hasn’t been a moment since the night we met that I haven’t wanted you.”

  God, it’s true. Ships that pass in the night. Star-crossed lovers. Whatever you call us, however you’d characterize our relationship before, we’re together now. And the ache I lived with for years, the longing to be with her is a distant memory. I have the career I’ve wanted since I was old enough to hold a basketball, married to the woman of my dreams, a daughter who is mine in every way that counts, and now another on the way.

  Count my blessings. I run out of fingers, out of hands, out of ways to count all the good in my life.