Page 4 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

ELIAS

When I open my eyes the next morning the first thing I do is pick up my phone to text Whimsy. I need coffee from my favorite place as soon as possible and I need to see if she can schedule me a few much-needed appointments while I’m in Miami since I’ve been putting it off.

I’ve already typed out half of the message when I catch myself.

Whimsy is not my assistant anymore.

She’s my girlfriend.

Fake-girlfriend.

But fake feels like a relative term considering how we’re going to have to play this.

I delete what I’ve written so far for the text and toss my phone on the opposite side of the bed.

It looks like I’m getting my own damn coffee today.

I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, quickly downing a protein shake before I put on my running shoes. The coffee shop it about three miles away. Perfect jogging distance. I’ll get a quick workout in this morning, have my coffee, and I can hit the gym later to lift weights.

Win, win, win.

I change my clothes and slip on my running shoes, pocketing my keycard to get back into my building. I’ve learned my lesson after forgetting it once and having to get Whimsy to secure me a new one.

On the street, I pop my earbuds in and start my playlist.

Despite the music playing in my ear, I can hear my fellow player and doubles teammate, Noah Baker, ribbing me for only running three miles. I mean, I could make it six, but I know I’ll just catch an Uber on my way back. No one likes melted coffee.

The coffee shop is in sight when I spot a familiar blond head exiting. She smiles and says something to the man going in.

I slow my jog to a walk as Whimsy approaches me.

I pop out an earbud. “Interesting running into you here.”

She shrugs, balancing the drink carrier in her hands. “I know I’m not your assistant anymore, but I was going to bring you coffee anyway. That’s a girlfriend thing to do.” Her nose scrunches. “Right?”

“Sure,” I agree, grabbing the cup I know is mine and taking a sip. “Did you drive?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m parked around the corner. Do you want a ride?”

I drop my arm over her shoulders. “It’s like you know me, Whim.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s because I do.”

She leads me around the corner to a small gravel parking lot.

“Shit, let me take that.” I reach out for the carrier. I should’ve grabbed it sooner, but I didn’t think.

She lets me take it with a grateful smile and unlocks her light pink Mercedes G-Wagon.

When I got the car for her last birthday, she said it was the most over the top gift imaginable but I didn’t miss her excited little dance she did on her way over to check out the car.

Obviously I had to have it custom wrapped in her favorite color. It was the only thing that made sense.

Whimsy is a good person and a great assistant, so I see no problem in spoiling her. As my sister likes to remind me, I owe Whimsy a lot for putting up with me.

“Still liking the car?” I ask as I climb in and slide the seatbelt across my body.

She adjusts her sunglasses and picks up a tube of gloss and coats her lips. “Yes, but I also still think it’s over the top.”

“Only the best for my girlfriend,” I joke.

She shakes her head at my comment. “This is so weird. I woke up this morning and thought I’d imagined the whole thing, but Jackson had sent me a text warning me not to reply to you if you asked me to do anything assistant related.”

I snort. “It’s a good thing he did. I woke up ready to text you, and then I remembered.”

Her hand rests on the gearshift. “Are people going to think I used this job as a way to get you to date me?” She scrunches her nose like the idea of it irks her.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I slide the cup back into the holder in my lap. “I’m sure there are people who will think that, but we know the truth so what difference does it make?”

“None, I guess,” she sighs and puts the vehicle in reverse. “I just don’t enjoy people thinking I’m that kind of person.”

“What kind of person is that?” I press.

She shudders and whispers, “A gold digger. A social climber.”

“If people talk shit that’s on them.”

“I guess,” she mutters, but I can tell this is really bothering her. I don’t have a magic wand to make it better, though. Rumors are something we’re going to have to deal with. “Jackson didn’t say, but is … are we telling Ebba and your parents this is fake? What about my family?”

I scratch at my jaw. I need to shave but I didn’t bother this morning. “I’m not sure. I figure it might be better if they think it’s real if that’s okay with you?”

Ebba will whack me upside the head if she knows this is fake because she’ll say I’m using Whimsy, which is insane. This is a mutual agreement between two consenting adults and she’s being paid for it.

“All right,” she agrees, and I let out a sigh of relief. “We can do that. I think we need to establish some other rules.”

“Like what?” I ask as we idle at a stoplight.

“For starters, I … well, I know you go out regularly and … you know…”

I grin. “No, Whimsy, I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

She whimpers, manicured nails flexing against the steering wheel. “Don’t make me say it,” she begs.

“Come on, Whimsy, say it with me. I go out and I have sex.”

“Yeah, that.” Her tanned complexion pales. “Anyway, if your family thinks this is real and mine does too, I just ask that you don’t sleep around. Okay?”

“I’m okay with that. Are you?” I counter, not because I think Whimsy is the type to sleep around, not that there would be anything wrong if she did, but because I’m nosy. I might know things about Whimsy, but I don’t know everything, and certainly not about her private life.

She snorts and it’s such a strange sound coming from her. She’s so ladylike and the sound is not.

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Why not?” I press, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

“I haven’t dated since my last long-term relationship ended poorly.”

“Poorly how?” I press. I’m not normally so pushy, but I can’t seem to help myself.

Beside me, she tugs on the hem of her dress and eases her foot off the brake when the light changes.

“Grew apart,” she mutters. “He … I realized that he wasn’t the guy I thought.

We started out as friends, and we got together when we were young and I …

I suspected he was going to propose soon and I just didn’t want that with …

him,” she finishes. “He wasn’t happy about it, so our breakup was rough, but I have no regrets. ”

“I’m sorry it didn’t end well.”

She shrugs and turns onto the street of my building. “I dodged a bullet so I’m good, but it has made me wary of dating. It was years ago,” she adds. “I don’t want you to think he’ll be an issue or that I’m secretly pining for him. He’s long out of the picture.”

I nod. “I believe you.”

A sudden groan rips out of her lips as she pulls her SUV along the front of my building.

“What’s that sound for?” I prod as I undo my belt.

Her cheeks pinken a hue to match her athletic jacket. “My mom has been asking if there’s anything between us practically since you hired me. She’s going to think I’ve been keeping this a secret from her.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Your mom likes me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course that’s what you’d interpret from that statement.”

“I figure we should tell them and my family before the tournament starts. I’ll be too busy once things really kick off.”

Her lips twist, French-tipped fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I guess.”

“It doesn’t sound like your mom would be the type to appreciate finding out through social media?”

Her eyes slowly swing my way. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“So, you always hate me then?” I quip.

“You’re insufferable.” She lets out a heaving sigh. “Give me coffee.” She reaches over and swipes her iced caramel macchiato out of the carrier. “I need caffeine to tolerate you.”

“That’s cute.” I reach for the handle. “See you later, Whim.”

She doesn’t reply, just drives off and leaves me on the sidewalk.

I laugh all the way into my building.