A SECRET SIN

10

“I was heading to my gym, which happens to be nearby. Figured I’d pop in.”

“But there are two dozen YMCAs in this city. How did you know which one I’d be at?”

“This is the one closest to your parents’ house.” He shrugged. “I could have been wrong, but I

only would have been out a few minutes of my time.”

I slowly relaxed, the adrenaline rush fading. “You have a habit of showing up places. Should I be

worried?”

He flashed a fiendish grin. “Absolutely.”

I shook my head, fighting back a smile.

“So who are we watching?”

“The one in the red shirt.” I pointed out my brother on the court.

“You always come to his practices?”

“No. Mom usually takes him.”

Bishop leaned back, draping his arms on the bench behind us. “Place brings back memories.”

“You play?” I asked him.

“Every day when I was a kid. Not at this same Y, but they’re all similar. We also had an outdoor

court near my parents’ house that I went to a bunch.”

“You still play?”

“Not often,” he said with a touch of remorse. “I’m usually boxing if I have time.”

“If you love basketball, why pick up boxing?”

“Needed to know how to protect myself and fell in love with the sport. There’s no better stress

reliever.” His eyes cut over to me. “Well, maybe one.”

The dizzying swell of electricity sparked between us. No matter that we were in a smelly gym

surrounded by strangers, that damnable chemistry connecting us refused to dissipate.

I turned my now crimson cheeks back to the boys as they finished practice.

“Doesn’t look like this court is scheduled for another practice,” Bishop noted, peering around the

sidelines. “I happen to be dressed for the occasion. Maybe I could show you a few moves.”

Oh, this was too good—an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

“I’m not sure jeans and a T-shirt are gym clothes. Besides, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” I

offered, not wanting to look too eager.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” The cheeky bastard winked, and God, did I love it.

I texted our driver that Gabe and I were sticking around a bit longer, then descended the

bleachers.

“Gabe, this is Bishop. Bishop, my brother, Gabriel.”

“Gabe. Just Gabe,” my brother corrected.

I smirked, knowing he hated to be called by his full name.

“Good to meet you, Gabe,” Bishop said as the two shook hands. “I used to play and thought since

I was already here that we could play a round of HORSE or something. We could show your sister

how to shoot.”

Gabe’s gaze shot to mine. I quickly hushed him with rounded eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Gabe said, smiling wide.

“Horse?” I asked. “Why on earth is a game involving basketball called horse?”

“That’s just the word that’s used. Whenever someone makes a basket, the others have to shoot

from that same location. Whoever misses adds another letter in the word horse to their tally. The first

to get all the letters and spell horse loses.”

“Gotcha.” I nodded sagely. “So where do we start?”

Bishop bounce-passed a ball to me. “You pick any spot you think might be an easy shot for you to

make. If you don’t make the basket, Gabe here will get to try a shot from wherever he chooses.

However, if you do make the basket, then Gabe and I will try from that same spot. If one of us doesn’t

make our basket, that person gets the letter H.”

“Sweet. Okay. Let’s see.” I propped the ball on my hip and wandered the court. First, I assessed a

spot a few feet from beneath the basket before migrating a bit farther. And farther. Until I was just

beyond the three-point line. I shrugged. “This looks good.”

Bishop’s brows rose to meet his brown curls. “You sure about that?”

“It’s just for fun, right?” I bounced the ball a few times, sighted the basket, then lofted a textbook

three-pointer. Nothing but net.

Bishop burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh hell, I’ve been hustled like a chump. I’m surprised you

didn’t try to put money on the game.”

“I don’t need your money. Your pride will suit me just fine.” I tossed the ball to Gabe, who was

grinning ear to ear. “Your shot. Show him what you’ve got.”

Our competitive natures drew out the game to a solid half-hour affair of heckling and

gamesmanship. But in the end, I pulled out the win and relished every second of it.

“How long did you play?” Bishop asked as we collected our things.

“All through school.”

“You should play pickup sometime.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.” The game was fun, but I was trying to get my parents to see me as an adult,

and playing basketball didn’t seem like it would help my cause.

Realizing Bishop planned to walk us outside, I paused at the entrance. “You should probably wait

here. Our driver doesn’t need to see that we had company.”

“Is my being here a problem?” A shadow of concern darkened his features.

I didn’t want him to worry, but I also wasn’t ready to answer questions about him to my father.

“Look, this was fun, but I told you that I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“Neither was I, but sometimes you end up in places you never meant to be.”

Impossible brute. I wanted to slam my fists into his chest and order him to leave me alone while

simultaneously kissing him senseless.

Instead, I just shook my head, bewildered. “Good night, Bishop.”

“Night, Pip.” A slow, sultry grin crept across his face. “Sweet dreams.” His words were a dark

velvet caress that liquified my insides.

As if he knew exactly how he affected me, his eyes warmed to liquid molasses.

I was in so much damn trouble.