Page 15 of Bad Habit
“Point toward the basket at the end.”
“Okay. Why didn’t you just say that?” She shook her head. “Can I go now?”
“Sure. Go for it.”
She took another shot, and this time the ball arched in the general direction of the net—too low and not far enough, but better. Way better. She was more coordinated and strong than she looked.
“Well, fiddlesticks,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Seems I’m not cut out for this basketball business.”
I retrieved the ball. “What are you talking about? No one gets the ball in the basket the first time. Try again.” I handed her the ball.
She took a shot, then another and another, and I picked up her rebounds, tossing the ball back to her gently at first, then more like a regular pass, and she caught every one and took less and less time lining up each shot.
Her seventeenth attempt went in.
“I did it!” She bounded toward me, the most perfect smile on her face.
On instinct, I moved toward her, catching her on one of the jumps and spinning her around.
Realizing what I’d done, I set her down and took a step back.
She brushed some stray hairs off her flushed face, and her smile shifted from shocked elation to something gentler, warmer, and genuinely happy. At least she wasn’t angry.
“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t believe I did it.”
I bounced the ball from one hand to the other. “You’re a natural. Keep practicing and the ball will start to go in more often than not.”
“Mac.” She looked down, as if suddenly nervous. “I want you to know. It’s okay if you ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t even started my discernment.”
I studied this woman, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. Faith was the oddest person I’d ever met. So shy and naive in some ways, but bold in others. She looked like a wisp of a human—someone the wind might blow away—and yet she’d learned to shoot a basket in less than ten minutes.
I’d always been good at reading people, figuring out what they wanted and how to exploit those desires to get whatIwanted. But there was nothing I needed from her. Nothing to exploit. Unless… Was she hinting that she wanted something more from me than basketball coaching and help with the kids?
My cock stirred, and I shook my head to rid myself of that crazy notion.
She looked up, and I reached forward to brush away some hairs, soft and pale as corn silk, that had glued themselves across her damp face.
At my light touch, she inhaled, her neck stretching and her back undulating like the stem of a flower yielding to the breeze. Her eyes fluttered, and her almost translucent eyelashes brushed down, catching sunlight on their path.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Beautiful in the most natural way, and miles from the type of woman I normally went for. Like a different species.
“Sister Henry and I were talking this morning,” she said softly.
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Oh.” I grimaced. “Nothingtoobad, I hope.” I expected the Downey brothers did not have the best reputations in the parish. Had her friend warned her to stay away from me?
“No, nothing bad. I was telling her how kind you were, helping me with the basketball matches.”
“Games.”
“Games?”
