Page 65 of On Merit Alone
“Six.”
“Yeah?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me half-distracted as her braids whipped around her back. The nerve of her looking so beautiful with that shit on her body made me scowl.
Tipping my chin, I said, “Come here for a sec.”
She did, standing under me as she looked me over to see if something was wrong. “Yeah?”
“What the hell are you wearing?”
She looked down at herself surprised, and then she smiled—seriously, she had the nerve tosmile, a grateful look coming over her face. “Oh, I was cold, so Mike lent me his sweater.”
“Take it off,” I said, holding my hand out for her to give it to me.
“What?” She took a step back. I tracked every extra millimeter she put between us, each one adding another degree of annoyance.
“Take it off, Mer. You can wear mine,” I said, already unzipping my hoodie.
She blinked at me. “But weren’t you cold?”
Yes, I just took a cold as fuck shower,I thought. To her, I shook my head. “No. Come on, Mer. Off, now.”
She frowned.At me, she frowned afterjustsmiling at those fuckers. My annoyance doubled.
Giving me one of her pert little looks, she shook her head. “I don’t answer to you, Ira. Last time I checked, you weren’t a real king.”
This little brat.
Reaching forward, I grasped her elbow and tugged her gently toward me. She allowed it, stopping right under me. I leaned the rest of the way down so I was speaking close to her ear.
“Sweetheart?” I started. She blinked up at me, her body going a little more alert at the term of endearment. She gave a soft hum ofacknowledgment while I barely restrained my growl. Somehow my voice still managed to come out even. “If you don’t take it off in the next five seconds, I’m taking it off for you. So just be good for me and put on my sweatshirt, alright?”
She pouted, screwing her mouth up to the side as she glared up at me, but she nodded. Seconds later, she was in the correct clothes and handing me Stephens’ piece of shit—sorry, his hoodie.
When my attention returned to the other guys, it was to find them staring. I just chucked Stephens back his shirt, hitting him in the face with it. And those assholes, they pulled out their wallets again and started throwing money on him this time.
They could save their money, though. There was no need to bet. When it came to Merit, I had no problem telling her and them what the score was.
Merit Jones was winning my heart.
Chapter Twenty
Ira
The Defenders lost.
I’ve lost a ton of basketball games, but I don’t think anything has hurt quite like losing only two games away from the NBA Championship title. And the worst part was, I wasn’t even out there to fight with my team. Hurt and down for the countagain.
If we were destined to lose and this was the way things had to be, the only thing I wish I could change was the fact that all I could do was wait on the sidelines. I would have much rather had the opportunity to fight and lose with my team than not fight at all. But that’s just how the cards had fallen. And like any game, the cards were always being re-dealt in this business, which is why I was back out on the court almost immediately after the conclusion of the season.
I wouldn’t call this anywhere near an official practice. Not with the mixed lot of men’s and women’s Denver players filing into the practice gym, half already sweating from their in-season workouts and the other half grumbling for having to be here when their season had just ended.
I could’ve easily hopped in on the grumbling too. Though my knee was feeling better now, it still couldn’t hurt to rest it, plus I hadn’t been cleared by the doctor to start my post-season practices. That, coupled with the decision I had to finalize now that the season was over was putting weight on my already heavy mind. And this wasn’t my first choice of location to figure my life out.
But there was an upside to this obligation I couldn’t deny.
Spying the dark skin and high ponytail walking through the door did a little something to lighten the burden.Hello upside.
Unlike usual, instead of the players making a b-line for each other and forming a familiar group, everyone hesitantly wandered over to the side of the gym where their charity team was congregating. Already around me were Stephens, McKivvey, and our big forward Evans. Across the court, searching around the space for where to go were our other team members Merit and her tall, stoic teammate with cropped hair and permanently lowered eyebrows.
