Page 4 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Three

T he resort’s workout facility was tucked in a quiet corner of the property, overlooking the beach, all glass walls and pristine equipment.

But even here, people couldn’t resist a few curious glances.

I wasn’t surprised. Eva’s face was everywhere these days—endorsements for sneakers, sports drinks, even the occasional luxury brand.

She was impossible to miss, and even those who didn’t know exactly who she was recognized her from somewhere.

I glanced around as we warmed up, feeling the familiar unease from their sideways stares. It was more than a look; it was a question. Their collective gazes shifted between us, lingering just a little longer on me, like they wanted to place who I might be, too.

“Something wrong?” Eva asked, snapping me out of it as she started on the rowing machine. The muscles in her arms and back rippled under the steady rhythm.

“Nothing,” I replied, stepping onto the treadmill beside her. “Still getting used to the staring, I guess.”

Eva let out a quiet laugh, her pace not breaking. “You’ll get used to it. And if not, you can always run faster.”

I smirked, kicking up my speed. “No days off, huh?”

She tugged harder on the rowing cord and exhaled. “Damn right. Everyone gets twenty-four hours. How are you going to use yours?”

Our days and nights at the all-inclusive resort had quickly taken the shape of something that resembled a routine.

Cardio and lifting weights in the morning.

Pool time, sometimes followed by a massage.

Dinner at one of the resort’s many restaurants.

Sex until my muscles no longer functioned.

Repeat . Even on vacation we were creatures of habit.

Rather than monotony, though, it gave me comfort.

We continued, the familiar rhythm of the treadmill’s motor and the whir of Eva’s rower, settling into a comfortable silence.

It was strange, watching people catch her image out of the corner of their eye, their gazes lighting up in slow recognition.

I could tell the exact moment they realized they’d seen her before—on their TV screens or in a magazine.

As for myself, I was elated to evade the scrutiny.

I hadn’t become a professional athlete for the attention—I just loved the game of basketball and wanted to compete at the highest level for as long as I was able.

I wasn’t in it for the money, either. Money made the world go ‘round, I wasn’t naive to that, but I also wasn’t rushing into every endorsement thrown my way.

I glanced sideways from the treadmill, keeping my pace steady as I watched Eva pull through another set on the rowing machine.

The muscles in her back flexed with each stroke, her focus locked in.

People were still staring, trying to pretend they weren’t.

I didn’t blame them—she looked good. Like, billboard good.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I said, a little breathless. “Being watched all the time.”

Eva didn’t pause her steady rhythm on the rower. “You mean like here, now? Or in general?”

“Both.”

She gave a soft exhale. “I’ve been stared at my whole life. This is nothing new. I was already taller than most of my teachers by eighth grade. Add that I was the only Black girl at my school? People didn’t know what to do with me.”

I slowed my pace slightly, listening. I still didn’t know much about Eva’s childhood—just bits and pieces, mostly sports-related.

“Private school,” Eva added. “Lots of money. Lots of tennis skirts and legacy admissions. I didn’t exactly blend in.”

The image made me ache. Young Eva, already towering over her classmates, navigating a world that never made her feel like she belonged.

She gave a short, almost amused huff. “I thought college in the South would be different. I figured—okay, I’ll be around more Black folks; I’ll be less of a unicorn. But then I started winning, and I just got more famous. Started breaking records. People stared harder.”

I chewed on that for a second. “And now?”

Eva’s mouth curved slightly. “Now I lean in.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “I figured if people are going to stare anyway, I might as well give them something to look at.”

I smirked. “Mission accomplished.”

Eva finally looked over. “Don’t let me out-work you while giving a TED Talk.”

I laughed and kicked up my pace again. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Eva snorted. “You love it.”

A single bead of sweat trickled down her neck. Its journey was diverted by the slice of Eva’s collarbone. I didn’t mean to objectify her, but no one had any business looking so good after an intense workout.

Eva glanced over and caught me staring. “Careful,” she said, her voice low and amused. “Keep looking at me like that and we’re skipping leg day.”

We wrapped up at the gym and slipped back to our room, where the private plunge pool waited just outside the sliding glass doors. The cool water called to us—a quiet refuge away from the watchful eyes of the rest of the resort.

The sky had begun to fade to a dusky blue by the time we wandered back inside, skin damp and kissed by the sun. I pulled the sliding glass door shut behind us, sealing out the sound of the distant resort and sealing us into something quieter—something more private.

Eva stretched her arms over her head and yawned. I watched the rise of her ribcage, the way the fading light painted soft shadows along the lines of her body.

“I’m covered in chlorine and SPF 50,” she said. “Shower with me?”

It wasn’t really a question.

She disappeared into the bathroom, hips swaying just enough to make me follow without thinking.

I peeled off my swimsuit as steam began to fill the air, clinging to the double vanity mirrors and curling around the travertine tile.

The shower was huge, glass and dark stone with a rainfall spout overhead and a detachable wand at the side.

It felt decadent—like everything on this trip.

Eva stepped in first. The water hit her skin in a gentle cascade, and she tilted her face up into the stream with a sigh. I joined her, the warmth of the water instantly soothing the tightness in my shoulders.

She turned her head, her eyes on mine, and handed me the body wash.

“Might as well make yourself useful,” she quipped.

I squeezed the soap into my hand and stepped closer.

I started at her shoulders, working the lather over her sun-warmed skin.

My fingers moved in slow, circular motions across her back, down her arms, and over the elegant slice of her shoulder blades.

I tried to keep my touch innocent, but it was impossible not to notice how soft her skin felt under my palms, or the way she leaned into my hands.

“Turn around,” I urged.

She obeyed, eyes still fixed on mine, and I traced the lather down the front of her torso. My hands moved over her ribs, along the flat plane of her stomach, and back up between her breasts.

Eva mirrored me next, taking the soap and working it into my skin with the same deliberate slowness.

When her fingers slid along my spine, I closed my eyes.

There was nothing hurried about the way we moved.

No frantic groping or rush to take things further.

Just a shared silence, filled with steam and the occasional catch of breath.

“I like this,” she murmured, her mouth close to my ear. “I like taking care of you.”

I turned into her, the water streaming over us. “I like it, too.”

I meant it. Not just the touch of her hands or the warmth of her body against mine, but the whole of it—the unspoken care, the gentle attentiveness that neither of us would have dared back when we were just teammates.

Or rivals. Or whatever we were pretending to be.

Back then, everything between us had teeth. Now it had tenderness.

We toweled off in the steamy bathroom, moving around each other like a well-rehearsed dance—quiet, unhurried, bare.

Eva dabbed gently at the back of my neck, then turned to inspect her braids in the foggy mirror.

I trailed my fingertips down the center of her back and pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades before heading into the bedroom.

The air conditioning had chilled the room in our absence, and I tugged back the covers on the king-sized bed before slipping beneath them. The sheets were crisp and cool against my skin, and I let out a long, satisfied sigh as I burrowed into the pillows.

Eva padded in moments later, freshly moisturized and smelling faintly of warm vanilla. She smiled when she noticed me snuggled amongst the blankets and pillows.

“I didn’t think you napped.”

“I don’t.”

I lifted the covers and invited her in.

Our relationship wasn’t new, but sharing a bed was. We hadn’t dared to do so when we were keeping our relationship private, with the exception of road games when we’d been assigned to the same hotel room. And then Eva had been traded to Chicago and the distance had become even greater.

She curled against me—one bare leg hooked over mine, her head resting on my shoulder. Her skin was warm from the shower, and her damp braids smelled like sun and salt and her favorite oil. I ran my hand slowly up and down her back, a steady rhythm meant for comfort rather than seduction.

“Are you always this cuddly after a shower?” I asked, my voice low in the hush of the room.

“I’m only this cuddly with you,” she noted, her lips brushing my sternum.

I smiled into the top of her head and let my cheek rest there.

Outside, the waves beat a lazy rhythm against the shore. Somewhere beyond our room, tropical birds called to one another. I could feel Eva’s heartbeat where our bodies touched.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. Touch said more than words ever could. The weight of her leg draped over mine. The occasional brush of her fingers against my side. The way her body curved into mine like the final piece of a complicated puzzle.

She tilted her head slightly. “What are you thinking about?”

I paused, fingers playing with the ends of her braids.

“You,” I said honestly. “This. How it still doesn’t feel real sometimes.”

Because it didn’t—not when I thought about how we’d started.

The tension, the competition, the way we pushed each other.

I used to watch her on the court and think she was infuriating—too precise, too poised, too perfect.

And now? Now I couldn’t imagine a version of my life without her in it.

Somewhere along the way, we’d stopped being rivals.

And then we’d stopped pretending we weren’t something more.

Eva leaned back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were soft but serious. “It’s real,” she said. “You’re not dreaming.”

I held her tighter, my cheek still resting against the top of her head.

Sleep came easy with her wrapped around me.