Page 6 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

His lips part. “She’s going to be my best friend.”

“I don’t know,” I hedge, swirling the wine around in the glass. “She’s a tough cookie.”

“Good thing I like cookies.”

I roll my eyes at his quip.

The wine settles slowly in my system, and I start to feel warm, more relaxed.

“I was thinking”—Elias starts once our food has been brought out and we’re a few bites in— “maybe we should draw up a contract of sorts of our own?”

“For what?”

God, this pasta is sinfully delicious. Downright decadent.

“For us,” he says, taking a bite of steak. He chews and swallows before saying more. “You know, with our rules. Like no sleeping around, our families all believing this is real, whatever else we might want to add.” He shrugs like it’s oh so easy.

“I guess we could do that.”

I suppose he has a solid point. It might be a good idea to have our rules in writing.

“It’s too bad you don’t have your trusty iPad with you tonight,” he quips. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile, but he fails. Elias is always smiling. Even when he’s pissed on the court he still boasts a smile.

“If we have time you can pop in tonight and we can write some things down.”

“Good.” He nods in a very serious manner, tone deeper than before. “I missed Craig.”

A sound that’s a cross between a sigh and a laugh leaves me. “She’s a traitor.”

“It’s not her fault that I’m extremely lovable.” He grins across the table at me. He seems completely at ease with me, like this isn’t a fake date and we’re not going to be faking an entire relationship, and instead we’re just two friends hanging out.

I hold back another sigh.

“Lovable or giant pain in my ass? Take your pick.”

“Ah.” He clutches at his chest, long fingers splayed and showing off the silver ring he always wears on his thumb unless he’s playing tennis. “No one can wound me quite like you can, Whim.” He lowers his hand but wags his finger at me. “It’s a special talent you have.”

“Someone has to keep your incorrigible ego in check.”

He shakes his head, lips twisting in amusement.

When dinner is over, he drives me home and parks in a visitor spot.

“I don’t have to come up if you don’t want me to,” he says, but he’s already undoing his belt. “But I really would like to see Craig again.”

“And we have our own contract to write up,” I remind him.

He snaps fingers together and points at me. “I know.”

In the elevator ride up to my floor he whistles to himself. The tune doesn’t match the elevator music and I can’t place what it might be from.

My feet are aching from the heels even though I barely walked in them.

The things I’ll do for fashion.

We reach my floor and he follows me down the hall to my door. It hits me then, the tune he was whistling was You’re So Vain by Carly Simon and that it’s probably because of watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days that it’s on his mind.

When we pause outside my door so I can search for my key, for a moment I wonder what this would be like it had been a real date. If he’d kiss me at the door. Maybe take me in his arms and drag me inside.

But I very quickly remind myself that this isn’t real, and while he might not technically be my boss anymore, he is still very much unattainable for someone like me.

Unlocking the door, he follows me inside as I turn on the lights and kick off my shoes.

I grab my iPad and attach the keyboard, sitting down at the kitchen bar. Elias makes himself comfortable on my too small couch, cooing and loving on Craig.

Craig is getting a lecture on this treacherous behavior as soon as he’s gone.

I quickly type up our own contract, adding everything we’ve already discussed.

“Hey, kitty whisperer,” I joke. “Anything else you want to add to our contract?”

His head pops over the back of the couch, Craig clutched to his chest.

“I prefer pussy whisperer, thank you very much,” he jests.

I roll my eyes at the comment, but at this point I’m used to the random things that come out of Elias’s mouth. He sets Craig down and joins me on the other stool, his knee brushing mine as he settles into it.

Elias taps his fingers on the counter. Craig hops down from the couch and proceeds to weave through his legs seeking attention.

“As far as things to add”—he bends down and scoops my attention seeking cat into his arms— “let’s add a clause that if you want to end this sooner than the six months or year that you can.”

“And that you can too.” My fingers fly across the keyboard.

“You won’t have to worry about me wanting to dissolve it, Whim. I need you far more than you need me.”

A smile tugs on my lips. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Because it is.”

He strokes Craig and she relaxes into his arms, purring like a maniac. I can’t say I blame her. I’m pretty sure if he held me like that I’d be purring too.

I add that detail into the contract, despite the fact I have zero plans to terminate early. The kind of money I’m being paid for this is too much to pass up, especially with the rising costs of my medicines.

“What else?” I prompt.

“Do you have any thoughts?” he volleys the question back to me.

My lips scrunch. “I guess just that we’re honest with each other. Something like this can be confusing, so we both need to be up front with each other about how we’re feeling.”

Ironic coming from me, since he has no idea about my pesky little crush. Hopefully I can manage to squash it like a bug, but something tells me that’s going to be extra difficult since I’m supposed to pretend to be head over heels in love with him.

“Okay,” he agrees, and I add it into the document.

“Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t think of anything but if we need to add amendments we can.”

I nod in agreement and flatten my iPad so we can each sign.

“I feel like you with this in my hand,” he jokes, twirling my Apple Pencil between his fingers.

I roll my eyes. “Just sign your name.”

He scrawls his signature, barely legible except for the giant E and J. My signature is far easier to read. Granted, I don’t have to sign stuff all the time like he does.

“We’ll tell our families this week. I have a feeling Jackson and team could move up the timeline.”

With a sigh, I say, “I figure the same.”

“Cool.” He sets Craig down. “We’ll text and figure it all out.”

I follow him to the door and he pauses on the threshold.

“This feels weird,” he comments. Before I can ask why, he says, “I feel like I should kiss you or something. Anyway, talk later.”

With that parting comment he’s striding down the hall, leaving me gawking after his tall form.

I feel like I should kiss you or something .

I know he only means it because we were basically on a date even if it wasn’t real, but dammit if my body reacts to it anyway.

I shiver as I close the door.

Where the fuck is my vibrator?