But today, I was distracted. Itchy. Tense.
It had been two days since Savannah had shown up at the boathouse, offering her body on a silver platter with a polite little please. But there was nothing polite about the things I wanted to do to her—the things playing over and over in my mind.
“What’s your issue?” Weston tossed the ball.
“I’m fine.” I caught it.
“Say that to someone who doesn’t know you. You’ll have a better chance at playing them off with a little smirk.”
I threw it a little harder.
“Oof.” He grunted as he caught it, then tilted his head at me, doing that little appraisal he was known for. Weston’s dad had been a numbers guy—turned money into more money while he slept. Weston, however, had a unique ability to read people.
An ability I cursed as he crossed the grass.
“Spill it,” he said when he got close enough to stop shouting. Not that there was anyone around.
“There’s nothing.” My jaw ticked. Since signing with the Raptors, there were definite lines I couldn’t cross with Weston, and this was one of them. Giving in to Savannah jeopardized my position on the team. Even if we kept it quiet, there was always the chance of Coach finding out.
“You have the same look on your face that you did junior year when Daisy Rodriguez dumped you after the state finals.” He stuck the ball under his arm and lowered his sunglasses, staring at me over the frames.
“She’d moved on to the next sport,” I joked. “Besides, we handled that with punching bags and what? Cliff diving, right?”
Weston laughed. “Yeah, well, those hands are insured for a million dollars, and I’m pretty sure your contract keeps you from doing stupid shit with me these days.” The guy was an adrenaline junkie—that hadn’t changed.
“You can’t help me with this one anyway,” I answered with a shrug. “I can’t remember... you ever want something you couldn’t have?”
“Besides my father’s love and affection?” he joked.
I shook my head at his self-deprecating humor. “This is something that could go badly. So badly.”
“Oh, really?” His eyebrows lifted, always up for anything that spiked his blood pressure. “Would this something be a woman?”
“Maybe. You’re better off not knowing.”
“The possibilities are endless when you put it that way.” He slipped his phone from his pocket and answered a text. “Brynn just got here with some papers,” he said in explanation. “I’ve never known from you to back down from a challenge.”
“Would you ever jump out of a plane with a chute that was only fifty-percent guaranteed to open?”
He put his phone away. “Now my curiosity is piqued.”
“I want someone I have no business wanting.” I laced my hands behind my neck.
“She want you back?” Weston folded his arms over his chest.
“Is she married?” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Hell no. It’s not like that. There are just...consequences.”
He nodded slowly, lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head and studying me. “Is she worth the risk?”
“How do you know? You’re the one always chasing the high. How do you know when you come across something that’s just too risky?”
He sighed, looking over the back end of his palatial estate. “I hate this place. Dad bought it for his mistress. Figured if we were all tucked away in Virginia, he could do whatever he wanted here.”
My brow knit at the subject change. “Sell it.”
“If I sold off every place Dad fucked that woman, the Raptors wouldn’t have a stadium,” he said with a wry grin. “If it’s finances, I risk it. We both make enough. If it’s my life, I risk it. There’s no bigger thrill.”
A petite, strawberry blonde in a tailored suit walked onto the patio and offered us a wave.
“I only need him for a second!” Brynn called out. “Good to see you, Hendrix!”
“Hey, Brynn!” I called back. “Guess we’re all a long way from Virginia, aren’t we?” I asked soft enough for only Weston to hear.
Brynn had been a couple of years behind us in high school and worked through her last two years of college as Weston’s assistant when his dad died. He’d said it was because he’d needed someone he could trust, and Brynn was definitely trustworthy. She was also beautiful, not that Weston ever noticed.
“We are,” he agreed with a nod. “I don’t risk relationships,” he answered quietly.
“You asked what’s too much risk.” He shrugged, looking at me as he backed away, heading toward Brynn. “I have money. I have too much fame. I have sex. A lot of sex. The only thing I don’t have in excess are relationships—people I trust. I don’t risk those.”
“Even if you’re missing out on the possibilities?” I glanced over at Brynn.
He shook his head. “You never fuck someone you can’t live without. Trust me on that one, and yes, I have wanted something I can’t have. Every day, Hendrix. Every damned day.” He turned and walked toward Brynn, his posture transforming from high school friend to billionaire business mogul.