Page 44

Chapter 43

Lia

I walk past the hallway leading to the court, hearing bouncing basketballs and squeaking shoes. It’s perfect. There’s a lightness, an excitement to get back here, back to a routine. Apparently, everyone has recovered from the food poisoning that made its way through the staff.

I walk into Megan’s office, which is how we always start our week, and am caught off guard by the sight of our general manager sitting across from her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back later,” I stammer and almost stumble as I stop, like the floor of her office is lava.

She stands quickly. “No, no. We both want to meet with you.”

Why? Panic sprints through my veins and I immediately start to sweat.

Megan smiles warmly. “Have you met Trent Jones?”

No. Why would I have met Trent Jones, the youngest general manager in the NBA? As I’m being sarcastic in a place only I can hear, he stands.

“Lia, it’s great to meet you,” he exclaims. “Trent Jones. Take a seat.”

Fuck. They know about me and Brooks. It’s over. I’m about to get fired. I sit down and wait for the worst to come.

“First, I want to say thank you,” Trent begins. “The way you stepped in the other night to help with the game was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it. Neither have any of my owner friends.”

Huh… what a weird way to start letting someone go.

“Not only did you step in, but you were good. I asked Megan to pull your job application so I could see your previous job history, but there’s nothing on here that indicates you’ve done this professionally. So, why don’t you tell me about that?” he asks.

This isn’t where I saw this going. I take a deep breath before replying, “I’ve been obsessed with basketball, specifically the Jags, since I was a kid. When I noticed there were jobs in this area, I started practicing. It’s embarrassing, but I’d turn on a game, mute it, and call it like I was in the booth.”

Trent looks at Megan, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “That. That right there is incredible. You’re passionate. You love the game,” he emphasizes.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

Trent laughs. “Please, don’t call me sir. It makes me feel like I’m eighty years old.”

Megan jumps in. “She’s been amazing with the social media accounts she’s taken over.”

“I know that. My owners also called about the dog campaign you got underway. Do you know that over fifteen NBA teams have made donations?” he shares with us. “You’ve made a real difference.”

Maybe I’m not getting fired?

“Thank you,” I reply. “I appreciate the kind words. Learning from Megan has been an amazing experience. I love it here.” I shrug my shoulders and set my hands in my lap, my knuckles bone white from squeezing them together.

“Second,” Trent continues, “because you were so good, I wanted to see if you’d be open to other opportunities during games. Maybe some on-court interviews between commercial breaks or quarters. Or even including that as part of your home game wrap up?”

“You mean letting me on the court to talk to Jags players after? I’d love it. ”

“Not only Jags players. Any players, really. As long as we let everyone know our protocol, all the teams will be cool with it.”

My mouth hangs open. I don’t know what to say. How to react.

Megan saves me. “Lia, you’d be great. It’s so refreshing to meet another woman like you; someone who loves the game and talks about it with such enthusiasm. We think it’s a great move to include highlighting women in sports.”

A tear falls down my cheek and I don’t move to wipe it away. Megan and Trent see it, smile, and somehow I find a tissue in my hand. I dab my eyes and then fan them, trying to keep the rest of my tears at bay.

Sighing out a breath, I ask, “Are you being serious?” My voice is squeaky with emotion, but I don’t care.

“Yes. I want to keep you with the Jags as long as we can,” Trent proclaims. “People like you are rare. Those who jump in and do whatever it takes.”

Wow. More tears fall because I can’t believe it. I’ve always been proud of my work ethic but to hear someone else—someone like Megan or Trent—call it out this way is next level.

“Yes. One hundred percent yes.”

Megan stands and walks over to me, standing with her arms out for a hug. I stand and hug her back. Trent reaches for a handshake, which I take and maybe squeeze his hand too hard but I’m so excited.

“Amazing. We’ll figure out how to compensate you for games where you’re doing work like this, but for now, these are for you.” Trent reaches back and hands me a massive bouquet of purple and white flowers. There’s a thank you note attached, and it’s signed by all the coaches and leadership.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I repeat, tipping my nose to the flowers and smelling the sweetness.

“I’ll be in touch,” Trent assures me while waving to the both of us .

Megan and I stare at each other for long seconds until we’re sure Trent is gone.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

Megan takes a long breath, blowing it out and replying, “Holy shit is right.”

“I can’t believe Trent just showed up in Megan’s office. You’ve had a day,” Brooks exclaims while pouring me a glass of white wine.

I put the glass to my lips and take a tiny slip. I’m careful when I put the wine glass back on the island, as it feels delicate and expensive. It’d be true Lia fashion if I man-handled the beautiful stem wear and smashed it, like I’m some sort of cave man, unable to manage nice things.

“What do you need?”

This is one of Brooks’ questions he’s asked more than once. Most of the time, I don’t have the guts to ask for anything.

This time, I grab my Kindle from my bag and answer, “I want to get cozy and read a book.”

He smiles and starts towards the stairs. “I have the perfect spot for you.”

We walk in silence; the only sound is the jingling of Rocky’s collar as he follows. He typically wants to be where one of us is. Brooks stands in front of a door I’ve not opened. Yes, I’ve been staying here, but I definitely didn’t want to snoop. Well, I wanted to, but I held back. Brooks opens the door and steps inside, leaving space for me to follow.

It’s a library. A full ass library. Floor to ceiling bookshelves cover an entire wall, and anything that isn’t filled with books is filled with puzzles. There’s an oversized chair and a couch in the corner, a mini sitting area, and a table where a partially done puzzle sits.

“Brooks Pittman, you’ve been holding out on me. Tell me everything,” I squeal as I immediately move the shelves, looking at what kind of books he has.

He scoffs, running a hand through his dark strands. “After my surgery, I sort of got obsessed with reading and puzzles. Like, it was the only thing I wanted to do when I wasn’t at rehab. When I moved in, these bookshelves were already here, and I decided to keep them.”

I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t believe it. The books are all sorts of genres, like he reads mostly anything. When my eyes hit a box set of a popular fantasy series, the very same one I’m reading on my Kindle, I shriek. “Wait, tell me you read this? I just started the second book!”

He nods, his cheeks a little flushed. “Yes. I read all five of those books in six days. I could barely stop to eat or shower. It was a dark time.”

I gasp in excitement. “Stop it right now. You mean I can gush to you about these and you’re going to know what I’m talking about?” Am I dreaming? This is way too close to a man written by a woman to be real. An NBA player who loves to read?

Brooks’ hands are in his pocket as he steps forward. “Yes. I’d love it if you did. Mostly, I need to know your Tamlin feelings as you get through that next one.” He taps on the book spine.

I throw him a side-eye because he clearly knows something I don’t. Wow. This is a dream I didn’t know I had.

“Brooks! You read romantasy!”

“Want to trade secrets?” he asks and I’m nodding my head yes before he even finishes his sentence .

Brooks steps closer to me until our noses are almost touching. I breathe him in, and he smells like pine and citrus on top of the book smell. It’s heavenly.

“I also have a Kindle. That’s where my”—he fakes looking around for anyone else, even though it’s just the two of us—“romance books are.”

I cover a squeal with my hand and remind my knees to hold me up.

“This isn’t a joke. You’re for real?” I’m scanning his face and body language for the hint I’m being pranked.

He grins. “For real. It was so easy to binge; I could not get enough of it.”

My head shakes in surprise. “Do you still read romance?”

“Sometimes, especially when I travel for away games.” He smiles wider as he lets me in on this secret. “I’ve learned a lot from these books.”

Brooks puts his hands on my waist and backs me to the door frame, the wood gently hitting the middle of my back. He puts one arm above me as his other hand touches my face, pushing through my hair before tucking a piece behind me ear.

“Like, the door lean? I know all about it.” He moves slowly, his nose brushing mine before our lips meet. His tongue sweeps against my bottom lip and I let him in. My hips press into him, and I reach one arm up and around the hand he’s holding above me. I grab his wrist and he moans into my mouth.

“I owe you a secret,” I whisper against his lips. His eyes burn into me, and I swear I can see flames licking on the edge of the caramel brown. “I’ve never, in my entire life, been more turned on than I am right now.” I kiss him again, feeling his lips pull up in a grin against mine.

“Well, we should do something about that,” he murmurs before his lips are back on mine.

Yes, we should.