Hoopla by Liz Crowe

Author:Liz Crowe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, love story, contemporary, cougar, sports, older woman, maydecember, strong woman
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Twenty minutes later, she led by two points and they were both sweating, breathless, gulping down water. “Madam, you have misrepresented yourself,” he said, wiping his face and neck with a towel.

“How’s that?” She was beyond gassed, hadn’t worked this hard at anything physical in months. But something was propelling her, goading her to over-achieve, to play hard like she’d been trained to do. And it was working. He wasn’t pulling punches and she was beating him. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know how to play? Or maybe it’s because we ladies like to play a little something called defense.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s see who can hold up for the second half.”

“Sure thing,” she said, walking to the half-court mark. “Since you got the ball to start, it’s my turn.”

He set his phone for twenty minutes and trotted over to join her.

Seventeen minutes later, she still clung to a one-point lead. He’d made an effort to stay outside and hit threes which they both knew were almost impossible to defend. But she’d used her smaller size to slip by him enough times to hit layups and two-pointers to maintain her slim advantage. Plus, she’d figured out that if she stayed close enough to him, waving her arms and planting her feet more or less inside and outside his, he’d waver enough for her to steal the ball. She did this once more with only twenty seconds to go but had missed her shot. She was running on fumes, of that there was no doubt. But she would be damned if she’d let him know that.

“Shit,” she shouted, but made a valiant attempt at hitting the boards for her own rebound. Jax went for the ball at the same time, and when his elbow collided with her cheekbone during his attempt to clear out his lane, she saw nothing but white-hot pain for a split second. She muscled through it and chased him down the court, using her smaller stature to ease herself into position more or less right under his torso so he’d be forced to go up and over her in order not to collide with her directly.

He behaved as she’d expected, falling when he went off balance with a loud grunt of surprise, which allowed her to grab the ball.

“Foul!”

She faltered on her way down the court. Her face was starting to throb. She’d have a shiner for sure, which would take some explanation on her part Monday at the office. She was ready with an argument, although she knew it would have been called against her in a real game.

“Yeah,” Jax shouted, which confused her. She looked toward the bench and saw someone there she didn’t recognize right away. “What Coach said.”

“Fuck that,” she said, squaring up to take her last shot.

“No, sorry. I can’t allow it, LeeAnn, it was a blatant foul and you know it.”

She paused, breathing ragged, sweat almost blinding her. “Come on, you guys. I was playing defense.”

“Nice try,” the head coach of the Detroit pro team said, blowing his whistle.

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