The Baller's Baby (3 page)

“Awesome,” Cole mumbled with very little enthusiasm.

“You can't be that tired,” Stacey reminded him. “The team had today off.”

“Yes they did. Thank you for reminding me again that I'm not out having a good time.”

“So what's a good time to you, Cole?” Stacey asked, truly interested.

“A good meal, maybe a movie, theater or at home; it doesn't matter much to me. Maybe stop by a friend's party if any are going on,” he added. “I can tell you for certain it's not working more on my issues, despite the fact that they exist.”

“In that case, I applaud your selflessness,” Stacey mocked with a smile. She ran onto the court, letting Cole trail behind her. When he went for the ball holder she called to him.

“Not yet, Winslow. You have to earn the right to pick up a basketball.” Looping her whistle over her head, letting it hang around her neck, Stacey stepped on the outside line of the court. “Remember suicides?”

“Please tell me we're not running.” Cole scowled, like a toddler who'd been told to finish his vegetables.

“Of course we are. Dribbling isn't anything unless you can keep the basketball from hitting your big feet. In order to do that you need to run, the fundamentals. One of those fundamentals is suicides. Let's see if you've still got in it those old legs.”

“Who are you calling
old
? At least I haven't started to wrinkle yet,” Cole teased, finally coming to stand beside her. “You running with me?”

“That I am. Now granted, I haven't ran suicides or sets of ten in about five years so you'll whoop me, but the idea is to get you thinking about how your running movements effect the way you dribble the ball. Figuring that out before hand would have saved last night's game.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cole rolled his blue eyes. “Can we get on with it, Teach?”

                                                        ***

Smiling, Stacey put the whistle in her mouth and blew it. Cole easily smoked her to the free throw line and back. His massive strides and the foot he had on her in height making her seem small and meager. The half court line they were a little closer and by the time they reached the far side free throw line, Stacey was holding her own. Once they ended the first one Stacey blew her whistle again. Running back and forth, Stacey and Cole pushed each other to strive for their best, both of them intensely focused on finishing. Drawing strength from their progress, Stacey slammed herself and Cole through three more suicides before they took a water break.

Cole palmed a basketball, tossing it into the air. “Alright. We'll do some dribbling and ball handling skill sets before we run again.”

“Christ, you're like the basketball czar.” Cole grinned. “Bring it on, Teach.” Stacey worked him up and down the court, constantly changing his foot movements so he needed to adapt. Her whistle blew shrilly every ten seconds, giving Cole little time to think or rest. They ran three times up and down the court shuffling along as they passed the ball back and forth. On the last round Cole threw the ball back to Stacey just as her phone rang. When she looked up at him the ball slammed hard into her face, knocking her flat on her bottom.

“Ohhh!” Stacey exhaled as she hit the floor. Rocking back on her hips and spine, she heard the pop of bones in her nose. Pretty much instantly, blood poured from both nostrils, dripping hot onto her hands and chest, flowing down her face and arms.

“Holy shit!” Cole cussed. Yanking off his shirt, he took Stacey's face in his large hand, firmly tugging so she'd let him see her face. “Hold this, it's going to hurt.” Cole closed his eyes when Stacey screamed. He pressed his shirt tight to her nose, jerking slightly to reset the broken bone. Her raspy breath telling him the worst of her pain was probably over. “Stacey, I'm so sorry.”

“Oh forget it. I'll get over it, eventually. It's half my fault, anyways.” She was eying her phone with a deadly glare. “Whoever called me during practice, though, had better be dead or know someone who is.”

Cole tipped her face up again, noting the soft bruising that was already started under her eyes. “You're going to have a nice pair of black eyes tomorrow.” Cole couldn't help but smile when their eyes met. When those chocolate marbles looked up at him he felt breathless again, but this time, instead of thinking about pain, all he felt was sweetness. Before he could talk himself out of it, Cole took Stacey's mouth, pressing warm lips over hers, while blood dripped down their chins. He was gentle, knowing her nose had taken quite a beating, so he kept the kiss short and sweet, much like her.

Seeing her speechless was enough of a reward for Cole.

“Cole we-”

“Don't start on me now, Stacey,” he chided. “I know damn well about professionalism. When I see a beautiful woman take a hit like that and then sit there like a church mouse while I set her nose, you can bet your ass I'm going to feel a little tenderness toward her. It doesn't make us horrible people and it's as far as it's going.”

Cole helped Stacey stand. He gathered up the ball they'd been using and put them away after first making sure Stacey was seated firmly in a chair. When he came back from the locker room she was thankfully still sitting, his shirt still bunched up on her nose. “Can we go home now?”

“Um, no. But I will take you to the hospital to see what they can do for that monstrosity on your face. They can at least make it look a sight better than I did,” Cole replied, half teasing, half serious. Leaving Stacey's car behind, Cole drove her to the emergency room, escorting her in and filling out her paperwork, all except her signature. He sat with her while she waited. “Where did you learn to play?”

“Play what?” Stacey asked, before realizing what he meant. “Oh, I played in elementary and high school a little bit. My older brother was really talented and, while I was athletic, I wasn't exactly talented. Eventually I switched from basketball to cross country and found a passion for running that I excelled at. Still, it's like riding a bike; you never really forget the basics.”

“So you have siblings?”

“I do, an older brother and sister, both of whom seem to think I'm delusional.” She grinned and gave him a mocking roll of her eyes. “Well, maybe not delusional, but definitely odd.”

“Why?”

“I don't...” Stacey started; wondering how much was too much information. “I don't date often. My job takes up most of my free time and the other five percent for me I spend running errands, paying bills and running every once in a while.”

“So,
not
dating is the utmost odd thing about you?”

“Not really, but it's all I'm divulging at the moment.”

“Okay.” Cole chuckled. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled Stacey into his side, content when she rested her head on his chest.

“How come guys always smell so good?” Stacey asked, irritated in a good-natured way.

“We don't always smell good. Trust me, if you had smelled my uniform from last night's game you'd be plugging that cute nose, whether you just broke it or not.”

“I didn't break it, you did. And while we're on the subject, I don't plug my nose when something offends my olfactory senses.”

“Oh lord, now you're going to go all Ph.D on me, aren't you?”

“I have an MBA, actually, but I'm a firm believer in having a well rounded education and continuing that education throughout my life. Why is there a mentality among kids today that we stop learning once high school and or college is over?”

“College is overrated, high school kids aren't treated like adults, so we don't raise them to be adults and life in general is a nasty mess of bullshit all mixed together into a crap sandwich.”

“Pessimistic much?” Stacey asked with a smile.

“No, but there are some things that irritate me about the state of the world as we know it,” Cole replied with a scowl that seemed to go deeper than just an opinion.

“Stacey!” an orderly called out. Stacey followed the young woman down to the x-ray area and sat under a huge lead blanket while the machine was adjusted. The x-rays confirmed what Stacey and Cole already knew.

“Well your nose is definitely broken, although, quick thinking by your husband here may have saved you plastic surgery in the future. Your nose is going to heal relatively fine. You're going to have some swelling and general puffiness throughout your nasal passages, but we'll prescribe you some ibuprofen to help with that. Other than that, try not to bump your nose against anything for at least a few days. Afterwards, pamper it for the next few weeks. Although it's small, it is still a bone and will take time to heal completely.”

Stacey and Cole thanked the doctor, stopped by intake to file insurance papers and then Cole showed Stacey to his car. “How'd you pick this color and what's it called?”

“I love the color blue, but didn't want anything crazy bright. It's called passion blue, but that's not the way I'm supposed to say it. It's actually spelled passione blue, but I pronounce it like I read it and to me passion blue sounds so much better.”

“That's reasonable, I suppose.” Stacey laughed. They drove the rest of the way in silence, enjoying the quietness of the night. It wasn't long before Cole was parked once again, next to Stacey's silver Mazda.

“Do you like the Miata?” Cole asked, nodding his head toward her car.

“It gets me around,” Stacey joked. “Actually, it's a great car. I may not always have it, and I may need to accommodate other needs eventually, but for now I love it.” Laughing hurt, so Stacey kept her answers truthful but light. “Thank you for taking me to the hospital, Cole.”

“Thank you for not hitting me when I broke your nose,” he replied, grabbing hold of Stacey's hand as he walked her around to her driver's side door. “I can honestly tell you that I'm thankful I stuck to it and got you to take my contract. You're an amazing woman.”

“Uh, thank you,” Stacey replied, feeling slightly awkward in the moment. He had kissed her earlier and they never really addressed it since. But he appeared to be inching closer to her.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, although I doubt I'll be running with you.” When Cole stepped even closer there was nowhere left for her to go. Trapped, all Stacey could do was hold on and bore her gaze to the ground.

“You may not date, Stacey, but that's not for lack of interest.” His breath was sweet as it ran over her face and he leaned in, tipping her beautiful face up again. "Broken nose and all, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on.” His voice was a seductive whisper.

“Oh that's a good one. Points for you, Mr. Winslow,” she said shakily, laying her hands firmly against Cole's chest. Closing her eyes against the rush of lust that swam through her, Stacey bit her lip hard to keep from being an idiot and melting into a liquid pool of hormones. “Do you use that on all your women?”

“I don't have women, Stacey.”

“And I'm not black,” she argued teasingly.

“I'm serious.” There was a note of irritation in his voice. “I don't have women. When I'm interested in a woman or am dating one, I keep it exclusive, extremely singular.”

Stacey shook her head from side to side in silent apology. “Forgive me I'm-” Cole silenced her then, pressing his mouth more firmly to hers this time. Conscious of her sore nose he angled his head so that she'd have to arch to kiss him back. She didn't seem to find that too hard to do. With the arch in her body, the angle of her head kept her nose in a relatively safe place. What had started out as a kiss to say goodnight turned into something much deeper than that. Cole took them under slowly, soft, gentle lips playing over an agile mouth that wanted to give.

                                                        ***

Stacey knew she'd waited her entire life to be kissed like this. To have one singular moment wake up the woman she longed to be. She hadn't told Cole the truth earlier when he'd asked her why her siblings thought her odd. It wasn't because she didn't date often. It was because she was twenty-five and still a virgin. That was the laughing stock of their crude and hurtful jokes when the holidays came around. Somehow it always turned to how another holiday was upon their family and Stacey still had her v-card. But this, this was passion. Stacey didn't have to be experienced to feel that truth in every fiber of her being.

Mindful of her new nose job, Stacey grabbed Cole's sweatshirt and pulled him closer. The first taste of him was like adrenaline, it soaked into her system like a sponge takes in water. The process was aching, slow, and wonderfully arousing. Cole's mouth was avid, playing over hers as if there was a special combination that would make everything right in the world. Opening to him, Stacey let him into a part of herself she'd never before had to urge to offer to anyone. “Take me home Cole.”

“Stacey, I don't know if-”

“Please don't,” she whispered. “Please don't treat me as if I'm addle brained or impaired. I'm a grown woman making a grown decision. Being inexperienced doesn't make me ignorant or mentally flawed.”

“No it doesn't, and I wasn't patronizing you. I was simply giving us both a minute to think,” he explained, irritated. “I don't take sex lightly, Stacey, and I don't want you to, either. You're my manager and from a professional stand point, this is career suicide for both of us.”

“Are you worried about my reputation or yours?” Stacey asked, her own annoyance growing. “Let's lay it all out there Cole. If we do this, it'll be me who suffers more. I'll never manage another player as long as I live. I'll be a washed up athletic manager who has no backup plan. A manager who will be accused of sleeping with players for fringe benefits. That sort of stain never washes out.”