Page 17 of Beg Me

He laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. “I bet it is. So who was he? Is that your teammate?”

The hint of mischief in his tone tells me that he saw Adam and me practicing … and he’s not that impressed.

“Yup,” I say. “It’s me and Adam versus the world.”

“Chemistry looked a little weak to me.”

“Thanks for your unsolicited opinion,” I say, shaking my head and grabbing my bottle. “Did Gus suggest that you run shirtless to try to nab a date? I don’t know him that well, but it feels like something he’d suggest.”

Jory laughs. “No, but you’re right. It’s something he’d do, especially because he thinks I have no game. By the way, his latest theory is that you turned me down because you think I’m cheap. He’s sure that if I had bought two jars of jam, you would’ve gone out with me.”

“I’m thrilled your son thinks I’m a gold digger.” I laugh, too. “I saw him playing basketball when I got here. He seems to have found friends.”

“Glad one of us did.”

I roll my eyes, turning to him at the exact moment a breeze ripples across the court. My senses fill with notes of his cologne and fresh, post-run sweat. The scent lingers in the air, flirting with me and making me wonder what he smells like after sex.

Focus, Markie. “I’m sure you have no trouble finding friends, Mr. Plath.”

“Oh,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “You know my last name. Been digging around, have we?”

“Or my brother told me. I mean, there’s one obvious answer, but I’ll let you decide what to think.”

He shifts his weight and the sun’s rays make the perspiration on his shoulders shimmer.

“I was shocked when Miles told me you were his sister,” Jory says. “We’ve been friends for almost a decade now, and he’s never said your name.”

“Yeah, that’s not shocking at all.”

He laughs. “True. Miles isn’t that …”

“Interested in anyone’s life but his own?” I offer, shrugging.

“I was going to say forthcoming.”

“You’re nicer than I am.” I chuckle. “I love him. We have a good relationship. But once our father died, we didn’t see him much since he lived with his mother. My sister and I are sort of Miles’s peripheral siblings, if that makes sense. We’re closer than strangers but still on a need-to-know basis, and I think he’d show up to our funerals.”

He presses off the fence and stands tall. He towers over me, his shadow extending onto the court. Everything about him screams testosterone and bad decisions.

“I always hated being an only child,” he says. “Always wanted a sibling. I hope I can give Gus a brother or sister.”

Something Gus said last weekend pops into my mind. I’ve thought a few times about him saying he’s only known his dad for a couple of years. No matter how I wrestle with it, I can’t make sense of it.

“Can I ask you something that’s none of my business?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Sure. Ask away.”

“I don’t know how he said it,” I say, “but Gus said something along the lines that he’s only known you for a couple of years.”

Jory watches me, grinning. “That wasn’t a question.”

I sigh as my cheeks flush, picking up my bag. “I just wondered why. Or maybe I misunderstood him. That’s all.”

“So, you really just want to know if I’m a deadbeat dad.” He winks as I nibble my bottom lip nervously. “I’m kidding. I know how it sounds.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’ll explain. It’s a fair question.” He waits for me to come through the gate and then walks beside me toward my car. “I dated his mother, Deidre, off and on in college. We were never anything serious, and we certainly weren’t monogamous.”