Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (15 page)

“And you too,” he whispered. “I met you, and I thank the fucking stars for that too.”

I pinched his leg.

Wrapping his arms around me tighter, he said, “I mean it. I was sitting there at Sonny’s, thinking about how I was sick of the meaningless nameless hookups, ready for something else. I didn’t know what the fuck else, but something else. And poof, there you were. All swearing and falling and knocking shit over.”

I warmed all over at his words. They were so genuine and sincere, I couldn’t help but allow myself to believe them. Letting out a little sigh, I relaxed some and leaned back into him.

“I think it’s that one.” Blane pointed toward the sky at a sparkling star, bright in the midnight-blue sky. “That’s the one that brought you to me.”

I lifted a hand and pointed it at another star, this one bigger and brighter. “And that’s the one that’s been watching over you your whole life.”

How could a girl not get swept up in this romantic game? With Blane’s aftershave stirring my senses, his hard thighs pressed against mine, and his minty breath warming my collarbone? I was doomed.

“What about you?” he asked. “Who looks out for you?”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see my face. “My dad.”

“Yeah?” He brushed my hair back and ran his tongue along my earlobe.

“My parents divorced a while back, and I was always closer with my dad. He owns a little Italian bistro, and when I was younger, I wanted to live with him full time. But my mom said no,” I said, thinking
I would eat my way into being a cow with him
, “so I stayed with her and my two sisters, who are perfect. And well, I’m me. Flawed.”

“I don’t know about flawed, but definitely huggable.” Blane flipped me, tackling me to the ground, and squeezed me tight.

Squeals pierced the dark night, and it took me a moment to realize with surprise that they were mine.

I wanted him to kiss me, to place one of those delicious swipes of his tongue on my lips like he had my neck, but he didn’t. He just grinned as he tickled me silly and then walked us back to the car, his arm around my shoulders.

My head bumped against his solid chest as we walked. I wanted so badly to stop and turn to him for a kiss, but I didn’t. I took what I could get from the man, and if it was only kisses on the neck, then so be it.

Blane

“H
ey, Hafton! Sonny B. here, taking over the daytime airwaves this Friday in gray and dreary Ohio. Let’s see if I can brighten up your day. Phish is in town tonight, and guess who’s going? That’s right, yours truly will be knocking boots before, during, and after. Oh, did I just get naughty on the air? I did. Lucky me, I get to take four lucky listeners with me tonight. Let’s play a little Truth or Dare, or just dare, shall we? How about I play Phish’s ‘Sample in a Jar’ and when I come back, we’ll announce our first dare.”

“Turn this fucking shit off,” Ashton called from the sinks in the locker room after practice. “I can’t listen to that white boy’s trustafarian hippie wannabe music.”

“No way,” Demetri hollered back. “Bet you a hundred bucks DJ boy is going to dare something here about our man or his princess.”

Shit
.

Coach had put us through a grueling practice on that Thursday; he wasn’t happy with us, and we would feel it later. We weren’t
hungry enough
and
taking too much shit for granted
, he’d said, and he was right. We were acting like fools, he’d said.

I knew he mostly meant me, especially when he leaned into the locker room and called me into his office.

“Yes, Coach?” I took a seat in the plush leather chair across from him, my mind elsewhere, mostly on what kind of dare that fucker Sonny was going to come up with.

Coach Conley frowned as he looked at me for a moment. “Steele, you know I’m in your corner. Admire you for what you did last year; not many kids would stay and finish their degree when the pros come calling. I get that it’s important, but this year you’re acting like a royal ass. What the hell is going on with the DJ? In our locker room, acting like he’s part of the coaching staff? He’s been looking for a way in for years, hounding my guys.” Coach leaned his elbows on the desk and stared me down. “Christ, he used to make Jamel insane with bribes and deals just to get inside my domain.”

I focused on his shiny gray hair, not wanting to meet his eyes. One day, I hoped to coach. There was nothing that I loved more than ball. If I wasn’t playing it, I wanted to be rolling in it.

“I know, he’s gone a bit crazy—Sonny, I mean. But I got it under control,” I lied as the hallway erupted with shouts outside Coach’s office.

“Oh no, he did not just do that!”

“Shit, that man has brass balls.”

Coach stood and went to the door, propping it open with his elbow as he yelled, “Care to enlighten me?”

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Ashton said contritely, his eyes twinkling as he faked an apology. He should have been an actor instead of a ballplayer.

“And now you did, so spill it.”

“It’s Sonny. He just offered up a pair of Phish tickets to the first dude to get his intern to go on a date with him.”

“So?” Coach demanded. “What the hell does that have to do with you?”

I ran my hand over my head and tugged hard on my hair, fearing I was going to pull out every hair on my head. Fucking Ashton, he was going to go into all of it. I knew it.

“That’s Steele’s lady. He likes her. She’s at the bottom of this mess with Sonny, sir.”

Sir? What a fucking actor.

Coach turned toward me. “What the hell is this? I called you in to get to the bottom of what I was hearing about you promising a ’ship to Sonny so he’d allow you to get laid again. He told me you needed to get back on
your horse again.
His stupid words, not mine. But you really want to hit on his intern?”

Ashton tried to quickly pass by the office, but Coach caught him by the shirt and pulled him in. I gave him an evil eye and mouthed,
I am going to fuck Ava
.

I wasn’t, but let him think that.

“Well?” Coach shut the door, and now it was the three of us.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Ashton batted his long eyelashes and ran his hand over his recently shaven head.

“Steele?” Coach looked at me.

“Sonny has this intern,” I said. “Cate . . . Catie P., and I met her when he threw down the original bet. He was making her do all this ridiculous crap for her job, and I called him on it. That’s why he called me a feminist. I just defended her and he went crazy. Turns out, she’s pretty fun . . . and a women’s studies major. Ironic, huh?”

“And sexy,” Ashton interrupted. “All woman, Coach, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, that’s enough from you, Denube,” Coach growled and redirected his laser focus on me. “So, this intern? You’re hooking up with her or what?”

“Steele wants to date her,” Ashton offered helpfully. “So, he promised Sonny the ’ship and full access to the team if he lifted the no-girls ban. And now get this, the intern doesn’t want Steele back!”

Coach reached out and opened the door. “Okay, you can leave, Denube.”

With the door closed again—and I was more than certain, Ashton’s ear pinned to the wood on the other side—Coach said to me, “I’ll be damned. Steele likes a woman.”

I nodded like a chump.

“Not going to work this time. First, she’s a women’s libber—they don’t like the athletes. And second, we don’t promise championships to anyone. We work for them, so get the hell back into practice tomorrow and be the captain of this damn team like you’re supposed to be, and make these guys work for it. Forget the fucking girl for now. You hear me?”

I nodded again.

“Okay, get out of here,” he said, dismissing me.

As I walked toward the Union Building to get some lunch, thoughts whirled in my mind like drinks flying on spring break in Daytona. I liked a girl. A woman. A chick. A young lady. Whatever. I liked Cate.

Talking to her grounded me, which was good, because at the moment I needed grounding. I’d turned down a shit-ton of interest from the pros the year before to stay in school, to finish my last few credits and graduate. Was it worth it? I didn’t fucking know. At the end of the day, I was going to play ball. It’s all I wanted to do.

And now I wanted to be with Cate, but that wasn’t going to be so easy. First of all, I didn’t even know how I wanted to be with her, and second, there was Coach and what he just laid down.

The dare came back to mind, so I turned toward the radio station instead of the student union. I burst through the front doors and made my way toward the studio and banged on the door. Not waiting for an answer, I walked right in, into a zone defense all by myself.

Another bullshit Phish melody had just ended, and Sonny was making love to his mic when he saw me.

“Oh, looks like we poked the bear, Hafton. I wouldn’t have believed it myself unless I saw it with my own eyes, which I’m doing right now. The Stealer just stormed into my booth, eyes blazing. I guess he heard my latest dare. Did you know Mr. Steele has a thing for our intern? He’s our Catie P.’s protector and, perhaps, suitor?” He raised an eyebrow at me, challenging me.

Asshole
.

“Okay, Haftees, let’s do something about this little challenge in front of me. Last pair of tickets is up for grabs for the first girl to get
The Stealer
tattooed on her body.”

I slammed my hand onto the table, shaking the equipment, and imagined it was my fist making contact with Sonny’s pretty-boy face.

“If your little honey, Hafton’s 96.9’s own Catie, is the first to mark her body with your name, we know it’s meant to be, Steele. It’s only a matter of time!”

Sonny shoved the mic back in its holder and hit
PLAY
, sending some awful music blaring into my ears, and I turned to leave. I couldn’t even talk to the jerk.

His challenges and dares were giving me whiplash. First it was
don’t fuck around
, then he messed with my intern, goading everyone on campus to ask her out, and now ball babies were going to be running around with my name tattooed on their bodies.

When my mom named me Blane Steele, I was pretty sure she thought I was going to be a porn star. Thank fuck, shaking my junk wasn’t my big break out; playing ball was.

Although the thought of having a bunch of women running around with my name inked on their skin made me feel like I was some kind of gigolo, a role I didn’t have to be.

At least, not anymore.

Catie

“C
aterina?” Stanwick called my name with disdain. “Please stay after class.”

Stanwick waited for me at the bottom of the steps, her hair scraped back in a severe bun, her stance stiff and off-putting, a smirk on her lips.

“Yes?” I clenched my hands, stilling their shaking.

She towered over me in her pumps, and I found myself wishing for height for the millionth time.

“Caterina, I need to reconsider having you in this class.”

“If it’s the paper, I plan to document my stance even further. I’m just trying to see their choice to go into pornography from their side. The girls—”

She stepped toward me and whispered, “It’s not that, Caterina. Although I do find the whole premise despicable. It’s this job you have at the radio, and the consorting you’re doing with the shock jock and the basketball player.”