She nods, and I open my door, intent to walk her to the door this time. I move around the car and open her side, then grab the bag of dirty clothes and ruined shoes from the footwell before taking her hand and ensuring she gets inside safely.

23. Dempsey

Chapter 23

Dempsey

“I’ll give you all decade to shoot that,” Harold yells as Marty lines up.

He sends the ball flying, but it bounces off the backboard.

“Hit the showers, Marty,” Harold hollers as he hobbles down the court. “Your game stinks today!”

I can’t help but laugh as I watch them wrap up their ridiculous game of one-on-one. We have the court reserved for another five minutes, and although we’re all dripping in sweat and out of steam, these two refuse to waste a second of our designated time.

I run a towel over my face, soaking up the sweat that pours off me after playing two games. These guys don’t let me rest, insisting I’m their “lucky charm” on the court. Never mind that I’m thirty years younger than every other guy in our league.

I open up my gym bag to stash my towel and pull out my phone in the process.

I’ve got two texts from her waiting for me, and I feel like a fool as I rush to unlock my device and read them.

The first one is a picture of her long, gorgeous legs spread out on a pool chair, water glistening in the background.

Maddie: Wish you were here to help me cool off.

The little spitfire.

The second one doesn’t have a picture, but it has me groaning all the same.

Maddie: Is it still okay if I come up to The Oak tonight?

This girl. Whenever I think she’s going to zig, she zags. She doesn’t ask permission. Until she does. She’s a puzzle I’m eager to solve; a paradox I yearn to uncover.

I haven’t seen her for three days. But tonight… tonight she’ll perch her perky ass on a barstool and eye-fuck the shit out of me my entire shift. I’ve never been more excited to get my ass to work.

“Whoa-ho. Who’s got you smiling like that?” Richard taunts next to me on the bench.

I don’t bother hiding my phone or acting ashamed. He can’t see anything with his safety goggles covering his glasses, anyway.

“Just a girl,” I insist, giving him a light shove before rising up and offering a hand to help him to his feet.

“A girl? Did I hear someone mention a girl?” Marty asks, clasping me on the shoulder as we head to the locker room.

“I may be getting up there in years, but that wasn’t a ‘just a girl’ smile, Dempsey. If someone’s got you smiling like that, you lock her down and keep her.”