Page 77 of Playing for Love

“Whatcha thinkin’ about in that pretty head of yours?” he asked her.

Cassie paused, a gleam in her eye. “Easy,” she said, looking up at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Lean down here and I’ll tell ya.”

Jamal grinned and leaned his head down until his lips were lined up with hers. “Tell me, Bambi. Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, heat in his eyes.

“Well,” she said, whispering in his ear. “I’m thinking,” she paused.

“Thinking what?” he asked breathlessly.

“Thinkin’ about thepuh-aaaaiiiinthat’s gonna godoooowwwwn! On you. That’s right big boy. P-A-I-N!”

Jamal rolled his eyes and playfully shoved her aside. “Just for that, I’m going to stuff you at least twice, girly.”

Cassie looked at him blankly. “Stuff. Blocking your shot. Hitting your ball before it gets to the goal. Stuff!” he said, mimicking blocking a shot. “Nothing?!”

Cassie shrugged.

“You’re killin’ me, Smalls!” he yelled.

“Now that!” she said, wagging her finger at him. “Thatis a sports reference I get!”

“I guess we all have to start somewhere,” he grinned, pulling her close and kissing her on the forehead. “Now let’s go get you a jersey. I have a feeling number eleven is gonna lookreallygood on you.”

Untitled

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Now how do I shoot it again?” Cassie asked him for the millionth time.

Jamal sighed. If she didn’t look so damn cute in his jersey that hung down to her knees he would want to strangle her. She said she sucked at sports. He’d seen her try to play catch with JJ but it ended early when his kid whacked her in the eye with the ball. He thought shemightbe a bit better with a bigger, softer ball. He was dead wrong.

“Ball in the right hand. Wrist back. Left hand on the side of the ball to use as a guide. Pop your wrist. Hand in the cookie jar,” he said.

Cassie grinned. “I like it better the way the kid did it on Hoosiers,” she said, tossing the ball granny-style toward the goal. It bounced off the front of the rim and ricocheted back to her, almost hitting her in the face. She ducked just in time.

“Watch your face, there, Bambi!” he said, grabbing the ball and dribbling it behind his back and between his legs. “And how do you know about Hoosiers? That is a super fan basketball movie. I used to dream I was Jimmy Chitwood and Gene Hackman came out to convince me to play.”

Cassie’s face dropped into a sad smile. “Just part of my past,” she said sadly. “It was the only movie my dad really liked.”

“Are you close to your dad?” he asked softly. “You never talk about him.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Why is that?”

Cassie glanced up at him, a look of vulnerability in her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Jamal walked up behind her and put his arms around her. “It doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something that makes you really sad. And I want to help. You can trust me, Bambi. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Cassie turned around and faced him. “It’s not that. I do trust you. And I’ve never really trusted a guy. Like ever, really.”

“And why is that exactly?”

Cassie looked up at him with sadness, apprehension and tension written all over her face. “I was trained at an early agenotto trust the opposite gender. Because I was deathly afraid of the one that I was supposed to trust the most.”

Jamal was afraid to ask, but his need for her to trust him outweighed the fear of what he was about to hear. “Deathly afraid because?”

“Because he was the sheriff of our small Alaskan town. His word was law and he was the most upstanding person in the community. But when he came home, was a mean drunk. One that liked to hit his daughter and wife. A lot. Let’s just say I learned really early the best way to hide the bruises, especially since I tried to tell once and was pretty much told by my teacher that I was a liar.”