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“Not a chance.”

“Oh, it’s happening.”

“Daddy?” Tiana says, and I realize Desmond and I are standing in the water, going back-and-forth with each other in a way I wouldn’t do with anyone but him. Goddamn it.

I lift her up and make her laugh. “Are you ready to kick some butt?” I ask.

“We got this,” she says through her chuckling. And we do, in fact, win the first game of water basketball.

The second one, Hunter and Lucas join us—Lucas on my team and Hunter on Desmond’s—and they win.

“That’s not happening again,” I tell Desmond.

“I’m done. One game is enough for me,” Lucas says.

Hunter chuckles. “I’m surprised he played that one. I’m good too,” he says, then follows his partner out of the water.

“Looks like it’s just us,” I say to the girls, trying not to give Desmond my attention.

“Um…I think we’re done. Me and Andrea want to go hang out with Isla. Andrea said she’d do our makeup.” She looks at me expectantly, hoping I’ll say yes. She doesn’t wear makeup normally—she’s a little young for that—but Ree has played around giving her a makeover before, and I know she won’t mind.

But if I say yes, that leaves me and Desmond.

If I say no, then I’m being an asshole father because I can’t handle playing a game with a guy I kissed over eleven years ago.

I’m not going out like that.

“Go ahead,” I tell her.

Desmond throws the small ball up in the air and catches it. Once they’re out of the pool, he asks, “You gonna play me or you scared?” with the cock of a brow.

“I’m not scared,” I say. “But I am going to beat you.”

“We’ll see, Oak. We’ll see.”

It’s the first time he’s called me Oak since our time together eleven years ago.

CHAPTER FIVE

Desmond

I shouldn’t be trying to find ways to hang out with Oakley like this, shouldn’t be enjoying him the way I do. Not when he’s basically a married man.

But then, we’re not doing anything inappropriate. Oakley would never do that. My experience with him might be limited, but I can say that with confidence, and I’m not that kind of man either.

We’re just having fun, being friendly, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Oakley starts out with the ball, trying to maneuver his way around me in the water to make the shot. I throw my hands up in front of him, and he pulls off some sort of water-fadeaway shot, but it bounces off the rim.

We both dive for the ball at the same time, but I get to it first. I’m close enough to the rim and turn around and give it a dunk, then flex my muscles like what I did was really some kind of feat.

“You’re a fool,” he says.

“Takes one to know one.”

He rolls his eyes, but I’m pretty sure he’s trying to bite back a smile. “Ball,” he calls, and I toss it to him as he shifts through the water. I follow, getting close enough to try to guard him again, but Oakley fakes a shot, then dives around my left side, managing a little finger roll that goes in. “One to one,” he says, not hiding his grin now. Oh, it’s on.

We take a game of pool basketball entirely too seriously. There’s fouling, stealing, blocked shots, shit talking, muscle flexing, and everything else that belongs in a good basketball game.