Page 2 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

“Oh, no, no, no, no .” I spin around my apartment in a frenzy.

Why did I think it was a good idea to invite Elias over to my apartment—my tiny apartment with only one bedroom and bathroom? The entire space is miniscule. He’s so large he can probably stretch both arms out and touch the walls.

“Craig.” I scratch my cat behind the ears. “I missed you.”

My fluffy Persian cat leans into my touch and yawns.

I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d like since I travel with Elias during the tennis season which is long—running from January through November.

My parents and sister take good care of her when I’m out of town so she’s always in good hands.

Even if my younger sister is the reason she ended up named Craig.

It’ll be a few hours before Elias will head over so I spend my time cleaning. One saving grace of a small place, with only one human occupant, is that it doesn’t take me long to have it clean and shining. Besides, it’s not like I let it get too dirty anyway.

I’m still not sure how I feel about this fake dating scenario. Perhaps it would be easier if I didn’t have a raging crush on my boss. Not that I’ve ever given him any inkling that I’m attracted to him, but I worry it might make the faking bit hard on me.

I text Elias my address before I change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He probably has my address, I know it was on the contract I signed when I became his assistant, but I don’t have faith in his ability to locate it.

It’s not that I think Elias is entirely helpless without me …

no, that’s exactly what I think. I basically run his day-to-day life.

Since I’m not going to be allowed to continue to work for him, I’m not quite sure he’ll be able to function.

But frankly, the money that was offered was more than I stand to see in a lifetime in any other circumstance and I need it.

Medication and treatment for lupus are expensive.

Not that Elias knows anything about my illness. He’s my boss, not my confidant, so it’s not like I share that kind of information with him.

I smooth my hair back into a bun while Craig swooshes in and out between my legs meowing. She wants her treats.

When my hair is the way I want it, I spritz myself with a bit of perfume. I definitely have more bottles to choose from than is necessary, but I have a weakness for perfumes. And shoes. And designer bags.

Sue me.

Or don’t, I’d prefer to keep my money in my bank account not in the court system.

Scooping Craig into my arms, I scurry into the kitchen and set her down on the counter. Perhaps not the most sanitary spot but this is her home too.

She meows, rubbing herself against me as I work to open the zipper pouch. I feed her two of the little treats and scratch behind her ears. She purrs as she leans into my touch.

I wish I could bring her with me, but it’s impossible between all the various countries and hotels. We’ll be back on the road soon, but luckily the upcoming tournament is in Miami so I get to be home for a longer stretch of time.

There’s a slight knock on the door and I sigh. “That’ll be him.”

Craig gives a meow in response.

I pad across the floor, swinging the door open.

Elias Johnson is too sexy for his own good and I look him over in a way I definitely shouldn’t. Sneakers. Athletic shorts. Loose sweatshirt. All very simple apparel, but on him it’s mouth-watering.

He holds up the bag from one of my favorite Chinese take-out places. “Are you going to invite me in or…?”

I shake my head and step aside so he can enter.

“Damn,” he whistles. “This place is small. Next time you can come to my place.”

I roll my eyes as I shut the door. I know he means nothing with the comment but it stings nonetheless.

I like my place. Sure, it’s silly of me to even pay the rent when I’m not home that much time out of the year, but I prefer having my own place to come back to.

“Sometimes I think I like you better when you don’t open your mouth.”

He turns around, eyeing me in surprise. I never talk back to him or anything of the sort. I keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told because I love my job and he pays me well. But since I’m technically not working for him anymore, I don’t have to watch my mouth like I used to.

“I bet I could find things I could do with my mouth that you would like.”

My cheeks instantly warm. Does he mean what I think he means?

Unbidden, thoughts of Elias knelt on the floor between my legs fill my mind.

No, no, no. I push the thoughts away with a hard shove.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a shake of his head. “That was inappropriate.” His entire body sags with a sigh. “I’m … I’m not sure how to navigate this whole thing. This is weird, right?”

I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. His eyes go straight to the swell of my boobs pressing against my tee.

“Very,” I agree. “But we’ll figure it out.”

I pad over to the small island and grab cutlery and some paper towels to use for napkins.

“This is Craig.” I point to my fluffy cat flicking her tail lazily on the counter. “She doesn’t usually like new people so if she hisses at you don’t take it personally.”

He sets down the bag on the island and pulls out one of the stools and sits.

He seems to swallow the space up with him. He’s just so big .

Gigantically tall at six-foot-five, and broad, with every part of him built for speed and strength. He’s larger than life and he’s in my fucking apartment sucking up all the air.

Or maybe it’s just me who forgot to breathe.

“You named your fluffy girly cat Craig .”

I sigh and set down our cutlery and napkins on the coffee table and head back to the fridge for drinks.

“My sister picked it. I don’t know why, but it stuck.

I think we all just thought it was funny.

” I shrug and peer inside at what I’ve got.

“I have water, sparkling water in a few flavors, Red Bull, and some wine.”

“Anything orange flavored?”

I swipe a Olipop and pass it over to him, selecting the tropical punch flavor for myself.

“I usually eat at the coffee table.”

Why do I feel so fucking awkward?

“Cool.” He slides off the stool and takes the bag. “Great view.” He nods to the set of windows overlooking the city.

“Thanks. It’s what sold me on this place. I didn’t need a lot of space since I’m barely home anyway.”

“Touche.”

He sits down on the couch and I take a spot on the rug so I can use the coffee table for my food. Elias eyes me skeptically.

“I don’t bite.”

“This is how I always eat dinner,” I defend, reaching for the remote. I find a rerun of Shark Tank and lower the volume since we need to be chatting. “So, if we’re doing this thing you need to get to know more about me.”

“And you don’t need to know me?” he counters.

As I rifle through the bags for my order, I rattle off, “Elias Matthew Johnson. Six-foot-five. Weight is usually around one-eighty. Your favorite color is red. You’ll only use Charmin Ultra-Soft toilet paper.

Your childhood best friend is Brent but you don’t really talk anymore.

You crashed your bike when you were twelve and now you have a scar on your calf because of it. You?—”

His warm hand presses to my mouth. “You’ve made your point. I know things about you too, though,” he counters.

I eye him skeptically. “Like what?” There’s a challenge in my tone.

“Like”—he pauses to take a bite of noodles— “your favorite color is pink.” At my gasp of surprise, he levels me with a look that says seriously?

“You wear pink more than any other color. It’s pretty obvious.

Your coffee order is a caramel macchiato.

If that isn’t an option, as long as it’s strong and iced you’re usually okay.

Your iPad is basically a permanent appendage at this point.

I’m fairly certain you could run not only the country, but the entire world, just with your determination and that device.

” He takes another bite of noodles. “I might not know everything about you, but I do know some things.”

I dig into my chicken. “Point proven.”

“There are other things I should probably know as your boyfriend.” He arches one elegant brow.

When I first started working for him, I was certain he got his brows waxed because I’d never met a guy with such perfectly done brows, but nope, I’ve never scheduled him an appointment for that so he’s just genetically blessed by the brow gods.

“Like what?”

When he smirks, I know I’ve played right into his hands and I’m probably not going to like whatever he says.

“What turns you on for starters.”

I gasp and choke on my chicken.

“Fuck, Whimsy. I was kidding. Don’t die on me.” He smacks my back and I grab for my drink.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“Sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood and for some reason when I feel that way my brain goes straight to inappropriate things.”

“It’s okay.” I wipe the corners of my mouth with a paper towel. My eyes sting with tears courtesy of my coughing fit. “Let’s stick with easier questions for now, though, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He opens a container of what looks like soup.

“I know your favorite pizza toppings are pepperoni, sausage, and onion.”

I expect him to ask what mine are, but instead he says, “You like green pepper and onion, but if they have a margherita you’ll always pick that instead.”

I look at Elias like he’s a stranger and not the man I’ve worked for the past few years. I didn’t think he noticed anything about me. He’s always so focused on work. But he might know more about me than any of my exes.

I grab my vegetable roll and he passes me a packet of sauce without my even asking.

“I don’t know about you”—he leans his back against the couch cushions— “but I think we’re killing this fake dating thing already.”

As if to accentuate his point, Craig climbs into his lap. “Look.” His grin has his eyes squinting. “Even Craig likes me, and you said she doesn’t like new people.”