2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Marketa

A month ago, my dad had told me he had gotten an NBA coaching job. And I couldn’t have been happier for him, even while my dream job of playing in the WNBA had come to a screeching halt. I had said I didn’t need to move in with him, that I was fine where I was. Of course, at that time, I believed I could fully recover and be back on the team.

No such luck.

No amount of surgery was going to fix the problems I had when I crashed into another player and landed wrong on my leg. Sure, it was her fault, but no one cared about that.

I had seen three different specialists, and they all said the same thing. The odds were far too low for me to recover and play again to actually perform the surgery.

So, here I was, a month later, and I was moving the last of my boxes in with my dad. Thank goodness for the club break I had a few nights back. It was needed.

Okay, let’s be honest.

Shawn was needed.

And like a dumbass, I had no way to get a hold of him.

Best damn guy I ever fucked, and he was gone.

Poof.

Smoke and thin air.

It’s funny, because I wasn’t a one-night stand type of woman. But at that moment, with him, I couldn’t think of anything else. Though I regret not getting information, I’ll stick to the amazing memory and pull it out late at night when I need the pleasure.

I wanted to think he was the same, recalling our brief interaction and how damn spicy it was. But I also knew my way around the NBA and the name Shawn Colter was well established. Though, not as a ladies’ man. Sure, he was great eye candy, but from the rumor mill that I heard, there weren’t a lot of ladies he went home with. He was just pretty damn great to look at.

“You okay?”

I glanced up at my dad as he poked his head into my room, and I smiled at him.

“Sure, as I can be. Swear, Dad, I didn’t think I would be back living with you.”

“Just think of it like old times, ya know,” he teased, walking in and sitting on the bed. “We’ve had great memories. We’ll have some more.”

“It’s always been us,” I replied, sitting next to him. When I was just shy of becoming a teenager, my mom split, never to be heard of again. It broke my dad’s heart, but he stepped up to the plate and was the best dad, and mom, he could be. Though, given he had the job of both, he was sure overprotective. I couldn’t even tell you how many times I snuck out while in high school. If he ever caught on, I wasn’t sure. But I wasn’t about to ask.

“It has been. And we’ve made it through with no major fires.” I chuckled at that, having to agree there. “Want to come with me to the court. Team should be just about to start practice, and I was going to go lay down my golden rules.”

“No, I’m good. Right now, I’m content to finish getting settled in. Maybe I’ll swing by later today or this week, see the office and the building. Maybe it won’t hurt so much.”

“I know your dream was the WNBA, Marketa, and I know this kills you. But you have some amazing talent elsewhere. Personally, I’d love for you to coach with me!”

“Uh, no,” I told him, giving him a look. Dad was a great man, looked after me pretty well, but as a coach, he and I had two different styles, and I couldn’t even count how many times we butted heads over what players should do. Whether it was my team, his team, or the basketball teams, we were watching on the TV.

“Guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that,” he said, patting my leg as he stood up. “I know it’s not where you want to be, but I am glad to have you here, Marketa. You being with the team kept you away for far too long and it’s lonely when it’s just been us.”

I offered him a smile, not sure what to say to that.

On the one hand, he was right. It was lonely. It was just the two of us, and then I was drafted right out of college and really didn’t look back. I had a good, solid four year run in the league, so I couldn’t be sad. But I also didn’t ever think I would be a twenty-eight-year-old living with her dad. And that was the sad part.

But if there was anything I learned from my dad over the years, it was to get up and dust yourself off when you fall off the bike, and then get back on. I might not be able to play ball with the WNBA again, but I was certain I could find another love somewhere in the field.

Three hours later, tired of staring at the same four walls, I got off the couch and made my way to the courts and my dad’s office downtown in the still hot fall.

Arizona was not the state to be in, but the house he had in the foothills of Tucson, was insanely gorgeous. It was also quite odd to see a pro basketball team come to Tucson when Phoenix already had one.

The city demanded it, so here we were.

I showed my ID to the security guard who let me in, telling me how to get to the office but letting me know that my dad was at the courts. I thanked him and made my way over here, wanting to surprise him.

Cautiously, I opened the door, glad to hear that he wasn’t yelling, and peeked my head in. With a smile, I watched the group of guys for a bit then made my way to my dad.

“Hey sweetie,” he mumbled, giving me a side hug.

“Team looks good,” I told him, sweeping my gaze over them once more and then froze. Because right there, in the middle of the court, with his hands on his hips, was the one man I couldn’t get out of my head.

Even more of a no-touching zone.

Fuck!