Page 13 of Home Town Advantage (Fourth Quarter Fever #1)

SIX

SULLEY

I ’m in Shane’s long T-shirt and my panties with messy bed hair as I walk him to my door. This weekend was a quick but nice surprise.

Shane and I started dating about a year and a half ago.

His senior year and my junior year at the University of Montana.

He had transferred in for his senior year after some sort of drama with his previous college program.

We were the golden couple on campus, with me the star of the women’s basketball team and him the star of the men’s.

He was always taking me to nice meals and showering me with gifts and affection.

I’ve never been treated like that by a man, and we had a good time.

We were floating on cloud nine for those first few months, but things turned a little sour when he didn’t get drafted into the NBA. He was inconsolable.

I tried to be there for him, writing off some of his comments to me that I wouldn’t be as successful if I were a man and about how he could beat me in basketball. It was juvenile, but his childhood dream was shattered, so I gave him some leeway .

After a bit of a rough patch for him personally and us as a couple, he eventually accepted a spot on the roster of a team out of Italy and has been playing in the EuroLeague.

I was able to visit him once for a very quick few days, and he’s been home a handful of times, but the past year has been challenging.

It’s not just the distance. My star has risen considerably, even more than when he was in college with me, and his doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.

He’s usually outwardly supportive, but I can sense a little resentment in him when we talk on the phone.

A few off-hand comments here and there. But he makes me happy, and I let them slide.

He’s comfortable and, frankly, the distance almost makes it easy.

I don’t have time to date and am not interested in casual encounters, so spending a few days holed up with him every few months is nice for me.

I can blow off a little steam and then send him on his way.

He's a huge social media guy, always posting videos of us on TikTok and Instagram. I can’t keep track of all his various accounts.

I’m not much of a social media person, posting very sporadically, but I participate in his because it makes him happy.

I know it drives him nuts that I have a bigger following than he does, but that’s out of my control.

We get to the door, and he turns, taking me into his long arms. His hands slide up the backs of my thighs onto my panty-covered ass. Kissing my lips softly, he breathes, “I miss you already.”

I smile into his mouth. “I miss you too.” I run my fingers over his new crew cut. “I still can’t believe your hair is so short.”

“Hmm. It’s hot in Italy at this time of year. The longer hair was becoming difficult. You don’t think it’s sexy?” he jokes.

He has dark hair. It used to be overgrown and almost identical to a certain quarterback I once had a crush on.

In fact, the first time I saw Shane from behind, I thought he was Vance, even though their bodies are nothing alike.

Shane is six feet, ten inches, a few inches taller than Vance.

He’s also much skinnier. Vance is broad with muscles.

But there was something about his hair that had me wanting more, remembering the one and only time I got to run my fingers through Vance’s.

A hair-tugging fetish may have been born that night.

I saw Vance at the game last night. He stirs so many emotions in me.

I know I need to get used to him being in my life.

He’s friends with Layla’s husband, and we’re going to see each other.

Layla has been nothing but kind and welcoming to me.

In fact, all my teammates have been the same.

I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or be the cause of tension or drama.

I’ve decided that crying fits like the other night are not ever going to happen again.

I’m going to co-exist with Vance McCaffrey as best I can.

“No, honey, I love your haircut. It’s sexy,” I lie. I hate his haircut. A girl needs something to grab onto during sex. It’s a little annoying that he cut it so short, given how much he knows I like running my fingers through it and pulling it.

He rubs his erection against me. I’m not sure how he’s hard again.

Besides my game last night, we’ve done nothing but have sex for two straight days.

In between the rounds of sex, he filmed a ton of videos and took a bunch of photos of us.

I offered to show him around Philly, but he wasn’t interested.

He just wanted to stay locked up with me.

“Good. Do you think you can come visit next month?” he asks hopefully.

My face falls. “Shane, I’m in season. You know I can’t take time off to travel overseas.”

He tilts his head back and blows out a breath. “I can’t be the only one doing the work in this relationship, Sulley.”

“What do you want from me, Shane? I went straight from my school season to the draft to my pro season. I’ve barely had a minute to breathe. And it’s not cheap to fly over. I’m trying to save money to buy my first house.”

He pulls away. “I know it’s not cheap, but I manage. And I don’t have a million offers for endorsements like you do. ”

His tone is pissing me off, but I’m not up for a fight, not right before he leaves.

I pull his shirt so we can be close again. “It’s been a nice weekend. Let’s not spoil it. Thank you for surprising me. I wish you didn’t have to leave so quickly. You don’t have any games this week. Maybe you could move your flight and stay a little longer.”

He shakes his head. “Practice, babe. You know how I feel. Practice makes perfect.”

I nod in agreement before he kisses me one last time, insists on a few more photos, and then leaves for the airport.

As I walk into our little kitchen, Palmer exits her bedroom on her phone. “Thanks, Mom. I promise to be safe. Love you too. Talk to you tomorrow.”

She ends the call as she exhales a long breath. “My mom is intense. She thinks we live in a war zone.”

I giggle as I sit at our small table. “My mom too. You should have seen her in New York City for the draft last month. She had at least seven containers of pepper spray on hand at all times. She wants me to carry a gun in my purse, which I refuse to do.”

I know how to handle guns, but I’m not walking around with one.

Palmer smiles. “Yep.” She pops the P. “Same here.” She looks around. “Shane left?”

I nod. “Yes. Short visit. He has practice in the morning, but it was sweet of him to surprise me.”

“He seems…nice.”

I study her face. Palmer has zero poker face. “You don’t like him?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know him. You two only left your bedroom to play ball.”

Embarrassment creeps up my neck. “Sorry. We had some catching up to do.”

“At least he’s tall.” She plops down onto a chair at the kitchen table. “It’s so hard for me to find men taller than me. ”

“Beau is taller than you,” I tease. It was clear the other night that Palmer is smitten with him.

Two rosy dots form on her cheeks. “I don’t think a guy like Beau Fudd would ever be interested in me. He’s gorgeous. He could have any girl he wants.”

“ You’re gorgeous. You just need to believe that too.”

“I’m big. Men don’t like big women.”

I shrug. “It’s about finding the right fit. All of us are in the same boat, being unusually tall. Beau is significantly bigger than you.”

She has a giddy look on her face as she practically coos, “He really is. Did you see his quads in those jeans he was wearing?”

I nod my head. “They were hard to miss.”

“They looked like they were going to burst through. I’ve never been around a man like him.”

Wow, she’s crushing hard.

“Right. How would Beau be with a small, regular-sized woman? He would crush her. He needs someone tall like you, Palmer.”

She leans on her hands with a dreamy look on her face. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door and a loud, familiar voice shouts, “Sex police.”

Palmer and I laugh as I stand and make my way to the front door, opening it for Kennedy.

Talk about surprises. Kennedy is widely considered the bitch of the league.

The black widow, for her dark hair, dirty play, and less-than-sunny disposition.

That’s not what I’ve seen through our first two games.

I’ve seen a good teammate who protects me at every turn.

I’ve never played with anyone like her. She’s like having a hockey teammate.

The guy whose job it is to come in and check the opponent into the boards just to make a point.

Basketball has become a significantly more physical game in the past few years.

Contact that once would have been a foul is now considered acceptable.

Kennedy fights hard for every single rebound.

She’s constantly creating lanes for me. She’s like a tank.

A machine. It’s a very undervalued aspect of the sport.

I wouldn’t be putting up the kind of numbers I have in our first two games if it weren’t for her tough, unselfish play.

And her support the other night, refusing to leave my side, is something I’m unaccustomed to. I was unsure about her at first, but I officially like Kennedy Jeffries. A lot.

Opening the door, I joke, “The black widow is here.”

Her face falls. “Ugh, I hate that nickname.”

I shrug. “It suits you. Plus, she’s a superhero. You should embrace it.”

She makes a look of disgust. “Guys always want me to dress up as Black Widow. It’s creepy as fuck. I’ve added it to my red flag list.” She hands me a coffee. “I brought you guys caffeine. Shane left, right? I didn’t bring him one.”

I nod. “He’s gone.”

She walks in, and we all sit around our small kitchen table. She nods toward the half dozen vases of flowers. “Where did all those come from?”