And This I Swear (In The Heart of a Valentine Book 7) by Stephanie Nicole Norris

Author:Stephanie Nicole Norris [Norris, Stephanie Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Check!”

Leslie Valentine tossed the basketball to his son, Hunter, who caught it on impact and threw it back.

“Let’s go, old man,” Hunter teased.

“I got your old man,” Leslie said, dribbling the basket in front of him, between his legs, then going up for a three-point shot without even charging forward.

Swish.

“Oooooh,” the men watching howled.

“You just got handled, and Pops didn’t have the ball five seconds,” Xavier claimed.

Hunter nodded and grimaced. “Okay.” Hunter jogged for the bouncing ball, retrieving it and dribbling back to stand before his father. “I know how to give props when it’s due.” Hunter tossed the ball back to Leslie. “But try that again and—”

Swish.

“Oooooh!” The brothers shouted again, all of them standing on the sidelines, melanin-rich muscular skin on display as their chests were bare, in basketball shorts, waiting for their turn to go up against their father.

It had been a monthly session between the men since they were able to jog down a court and properly dribble the ball. It was their bonding time where they hung out with the patriarch and enjoyed themselves with playful nonsense—or if a serious conversation was needed, that, too, would be addressed.

“Man, you are getting HANDLED by Pops.”

Leslie turned to his youngest son Kyle, who had spoken. “You think you can do better, young buck?”

Kyle pushed his tongue against his teeth and sucked. “I really don’t want to do you dirty. I know I’m your favorite, so I’d hate for that to change,” he boasted.

Hunter, Xavier, Lance, Raphael, and DeAndre all turned to Kyle, brows dipping into a scowl, and mouths twisted.

“Favorite?” Hunter said. “Now, you know the firstborn is always the favorite.” Hunter glanced back at his father. “Is this what you’re telling him?”

Xavier spoke up. “Oh, you must be out of your mind,” he barked.

“I’m sure he is since the last time I checked, I was his favorite,” Lance interjected.

“You fellas must be ill,” Raphael’s baritone voice drummed.

“Fellas, fellas, don’t all fight over me at once. If I’m honest, none of you are my favorite.” He paused to give them time to be affronted—which they were, as astonishment shook them into momentary speechlessness.

Leslie chuckled. “Your mother is my favorite,” he said with a chuckle, slapping the ball out of Hunter’s hand and then taking it up for a final swish.

“Three and out, young man,” Leslie said to Hunter. He turned to Kyle and pointed. “You’re next. Let’s go.”

Kyle jogged to the court and smacked Hunter on the ass as Hunter headed for the sidelines. “I got you, brother. Imma hold it down.”

Hunter swatted his hand. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see.”

Leslie retrieved the ball, then dribbled back up the court and tossed it at Kyle’s chest.

“I’ll give you a chance to score first, if you can get by your old man.”

“Oh, you have really messed up now. Check!”

Kyle tossed the ball to his father, and Leslie sent it flying back. Kyle dribbled steady, then went left, running up on his pops and going up for the two-point shot.

Pop!

Leslie swatted the ball, and it bounced toward the men on the sidelines.

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