He took her through some sliding glass doors out onto a covered patio. She could see a pond beyond, lovely and natural with a high deck that went out over it. She spied a tennis court and a basketball court in the distance.
“Wow, do you play?” she nodded her head toward the court.
“I play,” he smiled. “Want to?”
“Yeah, sure, but you have a really big advantage over me,” she looked up at him. He was nearly a foot taller than she was.
“What? You want me to play from my knees?” he grinned.
“Hmf,” she grunted, taking the basketball that he pulled from the shelf.
“Tell you what, you score on me, you win,” he offered, walking her out to the court and unlatching the gate.
“What, just one basket?” she asked incredulously.
“You think you can score on this?” he grinned and spread his arms out from his sides in a display of his mighty wingspan.
She smiled slyly. “Okay,” she said, “I score one, I win. You have to score 5.”
“Five? That hardly seems fair,” he protested.
“What, you scared,” she taunted, “of little ‘ole me?”
He laughed. “Okay, five. Let’s go.”
He grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. It took her a second to recover and make sure that he didn’t see her jaw drop. Luckily, he had turned to toss his shirt on the bench and she didn’t think he noticed. His height and wingspan might not be his greatest advantage. She was clearly going to be distracted by that massive, sun-kissed chest and his broad shoulders. He had just the right amount of light brown chest hair that spread out across his pectoral muscles and slightly downward across his abdominals ending in a treasure trail that led past his belly button.
His bounce pass snapped her back to reality as she’d already gotten distracted again. She began to dribble and her competitive nature took over. She moved in closer and he planted his feet and spread his arms making a veritable wall against her. She backed up a little and grinned at him. She dodged to the right and then went left and tried to shoot. He blocked her shot easily, dribbled back out to center and took his turn. He dribbled in to the right side and she slapped the ball away from him.
“Oh, Kroshka has some skills,” he cried with a smile.
“What does that mean? Kroshka?”
“Little one,” he explained with a crooked grin and slapped the ball from her hands, turned and shot the ball toward the goal. Big guy has some skills too, Zoey thought to herself, watching the perfect form of his jumpshot just before the ball sank into the net.
He tossed the ball out to her. “That’s one,” he grinned.
“And where did you get your skills, Alex?” she asked, dribbling the ball straight at him and stopping short. He stuffed the ball back down with a huge paw as she shot.
“My mom played on the Russian Olympic team.”
She stopped and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Now, don’t you think that’s something you should have mentioned before we started playing? Maybe you should go to ten?”
“No, no, no changing rules now. It five and I only have three to go now,” he said as he slid a layup into the goal.
He tossed the ball back to her. She dribbled up the left side and caught him in the chest with her shoulder, yet he still managed to palm the ball.
“That was foul, charging. I get free-throw,” he demanded.
“Oh come on,” she complained, but uttered a “fine” as she realized he was not going to back down.
“You cannot change rules just because you are little,” he teased her with an air of authority. “Move that way, free throw is unhampered by defender.”
“I know the rules, Alex.”
She moved behind him slightly and then snuck up to blow in his ear just as he was about to shoot. He missed by a full foot.
“That cheating.”
“I didn’t touch you at all,” she teased.
“Not fair,” he grinned at her devilishly. She took the ball to center again and dribbled up to the left. He stopped in front of her blocking her forward progress again. This time she pulled the ball around behind her hoping to switch directions on him, but he wrapped both arms around her and grabbed the ball. She suddenly found her face in his chest and she dropped the ball.
“THAT was a foul! You can’t do that!” she cried as he gathered up the ball and shot for another basket.
“What?” he laughed at her.
“That one doesn’t count. Gimme that ball. My turn for a free throw,” she insisted. “And you go stand all the way over there.”
“Why, afraid I might distract you?”
She scowled at him and set up her shot. It went in. She looked over at him with a satisfied grin on her face.
“So, you win. What you want as prize?” he said, moving closer to her and brushing a stray hair away from her face. She swallowed hard watching him bite his lower lip. She knew exactly what she wanted her prize to be.
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