Page 6 of Playing to Win
“What happens when you win?”
“I guess you’ll just wait and see.”
“Oh, Curly. We won’t ever see. Because, even though I am a gentleman, I don’t even let my four-year-old nephew beat me at my favorite game.”
“And I see that humility you keep trying to get me to believe you have has gone flying out the window.”
Kyle threw his head back and laughed. It was turning out to be an interesting evening.
Callie could not believeshe had agreed to play Horse. With Kyle Kelly. After he ran into her and sent all her things flying across the parking garage. Okay, so she was the one who pretty much ran into him, but still. She should’ve just grabbed her stuff and ran. But then the idiot challenged her to a game of Horse and Callie was never one to back down from a challenge.
Ugh. And then, idiot that she was, she had gone and called him handsome. Even though handsome didn’t even begin to describe how beautiful a man Kyle Kelly was. God was definitely having a good day when He made Kyle. The stork that was chosen to bring him down from heaven must’ve stopped by fairyland and sprinkled him with beauty dust or something. It was a crime for a regular human being to be that beautiful.
Yes, all professional athletes were built. Most football players had too many muscles for Callie. If they looked like they could bench press an ox with their pinky toe then Callie shied away. But Kelly had that perfect physique with muscles that just looked effortless. He was the veritable Goldilocks bowl of muscle—not too big, not too small. Just right. Combine that with blue eyes the color of a cloudless summer day, a dimple as deep as the Grand Canyon when he laughed, and wavy blond locks that just screamed at a girl to run her hands through, and Kelly just oozed danger. He should come with one of those blinking hazard lights attached to him. One of those lights meant to scare away women like Callie who did not date athletes. Especially athletes like Kyle Kelly.
And yet here she was, walking onto the court of the Thunder NBA team, about to play Horse with the man himself.
“Hey, Bernie! Don’t worry about the lights right now! I’m going to be here for a little bit longer with Curly here!” Kyle called to a little man in overalls and a key ring housing what looked to be about 500 keys who was walking out onto the court.
“Well, all right, sonny. Don’t be out too late, now. You need your beauty sleep. You had a rough night,” Bernie said, giving Kyle a pat on the back. “They had your number in that first half. Good thing God gifted you with that sweet jumper or you woulda been in trouble with a capital T.”
“I know, Bernie, don’t I know it,” Kyle said good-naturedly. “I need to have you come out here with me again another night and give me some more pointers.”
“It’s all in the flick of the wrist, son. Hand in the cookie jar.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Night, Bern.”
“Night, sonny.”
“Look at you, mingling with the common folk,” Callie said, nudging Kyle with her hip. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Common folk are way better than the kind I usually have to deal with,” Kyle said with a frown. “Why do you think I would be too good to talk to people like Bernie? He’s a great guy.”
“No reason,” Callie said with a shrug.
“You had a reason all right. A misinformed, illogical reason that was judgmental and harsh.”
“Touché. Now, are we going to play Horse or sit around and chat all night?”
“Well, since I’m feeling chivalrous and we’re playing in my house, I believe I’ll let you go first, Curly,” Kyle said with a grin, tossing her the ball.
“Let’s get something straight. First,” she said, catching the ball and spinning it on her finger, “The name’s Callie.”
“Second,” she said, stepping up to the three-point line and draining a three, “I am the daughter of a career basketball coach and an all-state forward who still holds the record for most threes made in a single game. So by all means, let’s play.”
