Page 61 of A Whole New Trick

I wear the athletic clothes I keep in the trunk of my car for backup. My wrinkled dress shirt and tuxedo pants told the world exactly what I’d been up to last night when I went to my car while Morgan showered this morning.

Thankfully, not many of Morgan’s neighbors were roaming the parking garage at that hour. I got my clothes and returned to the apartment in record time, but not before I noticed the area around Morgan’s apartment was far from well-kept.

Abandoned storefronts had plywood nailed over their windows. Graffiti covered the surfaces, and empty beer cans peppered the street. At least Morgan’s apartment garage required a code to access it. That small level of security made me feel a little better knowing Morgan lives here alone.

I wonder if her brothers know where she lives. I can’t imagine the protective brothers wouldn’t be concerned for her safety.

“Come on, Morgan.” I tilt my head toward the sand volleyball courts behind the Mexican restaurant. “I want to see what you’ve got.”

Carter told me about this place a while ago. Long before things between Morgan and I began to mend, I thought about bringing her here. “Or are you scared you’re going to lose?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “You know I was a collegiate player, right?”

“I do.” I let my eyes drag over her, glad I no longer have to hide the fact I find her attractive. “Maybe that means you’ll be able to keep up with me.”

I wink, and she laughs.

I’ll never get tired of that sound.

“Come on, Morgan.” I step onto the sandy court. “What are you afraid of?”

Once again, I call on the competitive edge I know lives inside every athlete.

She scowls. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Morgan kicks off her tennis shoes and pulls off her socks before stepping onto the golden sand. The air temperature is cool, and goosebumps pepper my arms, but it will warm up once we start playing.

“Great.” I pick up the ball I’d traded my ID for from the restaurant’s hostess and spin it in the air before catching it. “You pick which side you want to play on.”

“I don’t think it matters.” Morgan gives a pointed look at the buildings surrounding the area. There’s no breeze coming through to affect the game.

Even so, she ducks under the net and posts up in the center of the sand. “Each player gets three hits before the ball needs to make it over the net. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She nods. “Cool. First to fifteen wins. You serve first.”

I step back behind the blue strip of fabric outlining the court and oblige. My palm smacks the ball. It sails over the net.

Morgan reads the trajectory perfectly, kneeling on one leg to get under the serve and send it into the air. She then stands and moves underneath it, bumping it once to set herself up. She winds her arms back and then leaps into the air, preparing to spike the ball down on my side of the net.

I leap forward to where I think she’ll send the ball, but she changes her angle at the last minute. I don’t have time to adjust. Sand flies into the air when the ball hits the ground.

“Point.”

I stand and dust the sand off. “Well done.”

Morgan smirks. “Thanks. My serve.”

I roll the ball under the net, suddenly wary of what I’ve gotten myself into.

I scoreda whopping three points by the time Morgan scored fifteen. Beads of sweat roll down my face. I’m in shape, but the endurance it takes to sprint across the sand to intercept Morgan’s forceful serves and shots is a hell of a workout.

When Morgan’s final point hits the ground at my feet, I sit and lay back on the cool sand to catch my breath.

Morgan’s musical laugh draws closer. “Come on, Dane. Was that really the best you could do?”

I lift my head and take in her teasing expression and the twinkle of amusement in her eye.

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