Banks laughed. “Hell yeah, I know her,” she replied, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Fine as all hell. Smart. Doesn’t take shit from anybody—admin, staff, family, whoever.”
Her words confirmed what I knew of Harper. I’d sat in meetings with her. She had a smile that was disarming until you realized the questions she was asking were designed to trap you. She lived three steps ahead of everyone.
“She’s pretty good,” I said.
“Mmmhmmm,” Banks hummed, putting a purr on it. “Good andfine.”
I paused, then hit her with the slowest, coldest side-eye I could muster. “Why are you such a horndog tonight, Freida? Your girl out of town or something?”
She wrinkled her nose, her top lip curling. “Some conference, and then a girls’ weekend in Miami. Can you tell I miss her?”
“Not at all,” I said, laughing. “You couldn’t go on the girls’ trip? You’re a girl.”
“Nah, it’s her girls from college and we’ve made it a point to not intermingle our friend groups. Her people are her people, mine are mine. But the second she hits that doorway?”
Banks grunted, bucking her hips in a shameless and lewd fashion.
“You are not doing any such thing,” Kim cut in, sliding up behind us. “You respect the fuck outta Kris.”
“You right. It’ll just look like I don’t for a couple minutes.” Her gaze flicked to me, conspiratorial. “At least I get to live out my fantasies. Unlike Vaughn over here.”
I shook my head, pushing through the men’s locker room door. “You need help.”
“Just saying what you’re thinking,” Banks called, ducking into the locker room.
The thing was…she had a point. Harper Sutton had my attention without trying to get it.
Deep skin tone, natural hair she wore out and full, or pulled back into a bun or a puff, big brown eyes, and a figure that she clothed in well-tailored designer suits. More than once I’d caught myself staring, then had to pretend I’d been deep in thought about something other than the shape of her ass cheeks as she walked past my chair.
Sometimes I’d catch myself wondering what she talked about when she wasn’t discussing liability issues or hospital protocols. How different her laugh might be when she wasn’t in professional mode. If those fashionable suits ever came off in favor of something more revealing.
I hated when I gave my mind over to idle fantasy, passing thoughts that were acknowledged then set aside because acting on them would be inadvisable for about a dozen reasons.
I showered quickly, the hot water beating against worn muscles, then changed back into street clothes before heading to the parking garage. As I slid behind the wheel of my RangeRover, my phone buzzed. The face that popped up on screen made me smile.
Talia, my youngest sibling, was technically my half-sister. My father died not long after I was born, leaving my mother, my two older brothers, and me. Mom met Walter Ellis when I was in junior high and fell hard. Soon after, she popped up pregnant with a baby she wasn’t supposed to be able to have.
Even after I left for college and moved out of state, Talia and I stayed tight. We kept tabs on each other every few days and Tuesday evenings was her move because she knew I’d be shooting hoops after work and winding down on my drive home.
I swiped to answer the call, then started the engine so her voice would come through the car speakers. “What’s up, kid?”
Talia scoffed. “Every damn week, I gotta remind you that I am an adult. You alive?”
“Barely,” I replied, not even masking my fatigue. “Long day and I just got off the court.”
“Who won?”
I frowned, centering my face in the screen. “You wanna ask me that shit again? I ain’t no loser.”
“My bad, damn. I was just making conversation.”
“You need to come correct in your small talk. What’s goin’ on witcha?”
“Just heading home. And I know it’s late. Shut up in advance.”
I laughed, throwing the vehicle in reverse and pulling out of the space, then heading north toward my neighborhood. The city lights blurred past my window.
“What I look like yelling at you about leaving work late and I’m also leaving work late?”
