Page 5 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

I’ve been stuck in my closet for twenty minutes and I still haven’t decided on an outfit.

It’s not a real date, but I have to treat it like it is, but I also don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Elias said to dress up and that’s the only detail he gave me in the text message I received this morning besides to be ready at six.

The past few days have been boring for me.

I might be getting paid for this, but there’s not a lot of work involved, and I’m bored .

I suppose I might have a chance to catch up on some books or check out some of the cozy video games I’ve always said I’m going to give a try and then never do.

Or I could get back into drawing. I’ve always loved it, but I never have time for it except for small sketches here and there.

As a person who likes to be doing , this has been hard.

I check the time and silently curse myself. At least I already curled my hair and did my makeup.

I pluck a black and ivory tweed dress from the hanger. It’s dressy, but not overly so. The Chanel piece is one I overspent on, but I couldn’t help myself. My biggest weakness in life is designer fashion and handbags.

Slipping the dress on, I turn to take in my appearance at all angles in my full-length mirror.

I could overthink it and try on more, but I don’t have time to spare.

My feet are achy today, but the idea of wearing flats makes me want to gag. I compromise by putting the flats on for now, but taking a pair of heels with me.

I check my makeup one more time and add just a bit more of pink tinted lip oil.

“Craig.” I pet the cat on her head as I pass her where she snoozes on the back of the couch. “Be a good girl while I’m gone.”

She peeks one eye open at me and I swear she’s saying, “I’m always good.”

The text from Elias telling me he’s arrived feels like an unwelcome jolt of electricity down my spine.

I can’t believe we’re really going through with this.

“Wish me luck.” I give Craig one last pat on the head.

Grabbing my handbag, I rest it in the crook of my arm. Downstairs, I spot Elias’s black G-Wagon out front. My steps slow. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that we have matching vehicles.

Coming out with this relationship is going to be harder than I thought, because my mom is definitely going to be convinced we’ve been dating a while. She’s going to think we’re close to wedding bells.

I take a deep breath to steady myself as I step outside. The evening air carries a slight chill.

I reach for the passenger door and grunt as I climb inside.

Elias snickers. “You sound like you’re fighting for your life to get in here.”

“Because I am,” I grumble. “I’m short.”

“Is this how you get in yours too?” His laugher grows.

“No,” I bite out. “But that’s because I have a stool.”

Somehow his laughter grows even more. “Next time I’ll lift you in.”

“And maybe I’ll kick you.” I slide the seatbelt over my body and click it into place. “I can’t believe it just occurred to me that you got us matching cars. My mom is never going to believe we haven’t been together longer. Was it a buy one, get one free deal?”

He shakes his head as he pulls into traffic. “Nah, Whim. It was not.”

“At least mine’s pink.”

“Custom wrap just for my girl.”

He chucks my chin playfully with his finger and I hope to God he doesn’t hear my sharp intake of breath. I’m beyond pathetic that the my girl comment has me feeling some type of way.

Neither of us says anything else on the drive and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s feeling as out of sorts as I am, but I’d like to think so.

Elias pulls up outside the restaurant and I’m not surprised to find they have valet. I quickly switch my flats for heels.

Elias hops out and passes his keys to the valet before opening my door. He offers a hand to help me down, arm sliding around my waist to help ease the drop. He raises a brow at my heels.

“Shoe change?”

“It’s Miami. I can’t be caught dead wearing flats.”

He chuckles, his breath a warm caress against my bare shoulder. Looking around at some of the other arrivals I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. The women I see are mostly decked out in what I would consider club wear, but that’s just not my style unless I’m actually at the club.

Elias keeps his hand on my waist as he guides me inside. The effort to keep my head fixed in place and not gawk in awe is difficult.

He gives his name, and the hostess quickly grabs two menus and leads us to a private booth.

Gauzy curtains hang on the outside, only a slit large enough for a waiter or waitress to stand.

I appreciate the privacy, though, and I appreciate even more that it shows he was serious about this being practice.

He wasn’t putting us on display to be seen.

“Enjoy your evening,” the hostess says before leaving.

“I hope this is okay.” Elias toys with the collar of his shirt.

“This is perfect.” A small candle flickers on the table between us, adding a nice orange glow to the dimmed lighting. “Have you been here before?”

He rolls up his sleeve. “I haven’t. You?”

“I don’t go out much. When I’m home I try to spend as much time as I can with my family.”

His fingers tap absentmindedly on the leather-bound menu he hasn’t bothered to open yet. “You guys are close?”

“Very,” I reply, looking at the salad options.

“I’d like to meet them.”

I look away from the menu, meeting his eyes across the table. “I know, we said we’d tell them and your family in person.”

“Yeah, but I just mean…” He trails off with a shrug. “Even without this I’d like to meet them.”

“You’re going to regret that once you meet my mom and she starts planning our wedding and naming our future kids.”

A laugh rips out of him. “And how many kids are we going to have, Whim?”

I snort. “If my mom had her way probably six.” His eyes widen in horror. “She always wanted a big family. I think it was hard on her when they only had me and then Junie came along so much later.”

“Six?” he squeaks.

“Hey, I didn’t say that’s how many kids I want.” I move on from reading about the salads to the pasta selection. I feel his eyes on me, and it tears my concentration from the menu. “What?”

“So, how many do you want?”

I frown at the question, because it’s not like this is real so I’m not sure why he’s even asking. He doesn’t know about my illness, though. It’s not something I like to talk about. And it’s not that I can’t have kids, just that it might be harder.

“I used to want three or four,” I answer honestly. “I’m not sure now.” Arching a brow, I volley the question back at him, “What about you? Any little Elias Juniors I should know about, running around somewhere?”

God knows I’ve had to pick up condoms for him more times than I’d like to admit.

“No,” he snorts. “None that I know about, and truthfully, I haven’t really thought about how many. I want kids, but I never thought farther than that. Just figured it’d be something I figure out with my wife when the time comes.”

The waiter comes for our drink order. We both request a glass of water and wine. When the waiter has disappeared, Elias relaxes back into the booth.

“I’m really sorry you got dragged into all this.”

I smooth my hands down my dress—more so for something to do rather than a genuine need to straighten my clothes.

“I’m happy to help.”

I mean it, too. Elias has been a good boss, even if some of the wild goose chases he sends me on are rather ridiculous, like the time we were in California and he decided there was some kind of Swedish candy that he had to have or he wouldn’t be able to play.

But he’s always treated me nicely and paid me well, so I have nothing to complain about.

Plus, I’ve gotten to experience some of the most beautiful places in the world.

“You’ve saved my ass a lot the past few years,” he muses, fiddling with the cloth napkin wrapped around his cutlery.

“It’s my job.”

“You could’ve quit,” he reasons.

“What would you have done without me?” I counter.

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. It takes me aback, just how handsome he is. When he smiles, he’s in a whole other league that no one else can come close to touching.

I give our waiter a small smile as he sets down our ice waters and fills the already waiting wine glasses. He sets the bottle on the table.

“Have you all decided on your order?”

Elias raises a brow, gesturing his fingers calmly in my direction. “Whim?”

“I’ll have the carbonara.” I close the menu and slide it to the side.

“The steak frites for me. Medium rare.” Elias sets his menu on mine.

“Excellent choices. I’ll put those right in.”

He scoops up our menus and then he’s gone.

I feel like perhaps in this small nearly enclosed space with Elias that I should feel overwhelmed, but I don’t. I’ve been navigating around my crush for long enough that I’m fine being around him in large doses like this.

“So,” he drawls the word out, fingers tapping at the table. “We’ll tell both our families this week?”

I rub my lips together. “Yeah. Please don’t hold me responsible for anything my mother says,” I beg, already dreading the excitement she’s going to bestow upon him. “Or my sister. She’s a menace.”

I’m fairly certain Junie’s favorite pastime is roasting me.

His smile grows large when I mention my sister. “Most sisters are.”

“But I really love her,” I sigh, settling my hands in my lap.

“Tell me something about her.”

It’s hard for me to think of just one something when it comes to Juniper. There are so many things about my sister that I love.

“She made the entire family dress up as the Addam’s family one year and you might be thinking oh, she was Wednesday. But no, this is Juniper so she was Lurch.”

“She sounds fun.”

I can’t help the giggle that slips out. “Oh, she is.”

“If I’m trying to impress her, what should I do?”

I take a sip of wine, thinking about what Elias could possibly bring to win over my sister.

“She loves sour gummy worms and Pokémon cards,” I supply.