Page 54 of Off Court Fix

I abandon Maxine’s hand to cup her cheek. “You really should be proud,” I say, running my thumb across her lips which have slipped into a pout. “Come here.”

I pull Maxine against me. There’s a relief that coils in the micro space between us and strikes me harder when her hands press against my back and she sighs into my shirt.

“You told me I only have a minute of moping,” Maxine mumbles into my chest, nestling closer.

“30 seconds,” I correct her before sighing. “But who says this is for you?”

Maxine gives me one more squeeze before pulling back and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I ask.

“You missed me.”

“I did,” I admit, and Maxine looks even more surprised. “What? Do you want me to deny it? I’m too old to play games. If you’re looking for someone who makes you work for it, go find a guy your own age.”

Maxine rolls her eyes and gasps when I grab her chin between two fingers just firmly enough. “Don’t roll your eyes.”

“Don’t play the age card,” she challenges with a bite to her voice. “I’m not somelittle girl,” she assures me, even though I don’t need the assurance because Maxine’s body is pressed to mine.

She’s going head-to-head with me—both literally, given our positioning, and figuratively, because Maxine’s eyes hold mine unafraid, and I know she won’t back down.

The corner of her lip tilts into a smirk. “You know, Ilikethat you’re older.”

“Is that so?”

Maxine hums her affirmative answer before she straightens the collar of my button-down, her fingers gliding along the opening, and I bite my lip as she lets them linger there. “I like that you know who you are. That you’re confident. I like that you don’t play games, but...”

I tilt Maxine’s chin up when her voice trails off. “But what?”

Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “I’m wondering if you won’t mind playing one game, just for tonight.”

“I’m not really into roleplay.”

A half snort escapes her. “Come,” she says, pulling me through the entry into the open living area, where I find a Ping-Pong table.

“I think you have the upper hand,” I tell her. “Backhandandforehand.”

Maxine folds her arms across her chest, the strap of the linen fabric falling to the side, exposing a strong, shapely shoulder leading to the dip of her collarbone I’m suddenly desperate to taste.

“Table tennis is its own sport. Just ask Forrest Gump.” Maxine moves across the room, retrieving two paddles and a ball. “Besides. I told you, I love your confidence.” She presses the paddle to my chest, and I hold it there with my hand over hers. “Don’t let me down now, Crosby.”

I retrievethe ball I couldn’t get to fast enough before it bounced off the table and deep into my living room.

Crosby flips the paddle in his hand. “I think you’re going easy on me.”

“Not on that last play,” I confess.

We’ve only been rallying for about ten minutes, and the truth is, I planned to give Crosby a little longer before I upped the stakes, but he looks too good to leave on the other side of the table all alone for much longer.

Bouncing the ball on the paddle, I tilt my head side to side, trying to feign thought even though I’ve already made the decision.

“What do you say we make things interesting?” I ask.

Crosby cocks his head and squints through his frames. “How so?”

“I don’t know.” I smooth the fabric of my dress. “How about a little friendly competition?”

“Everything is a competition with you.”

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