Page 6 of Teach’s Hayride with the Baller

“Pumkin Spiced latte, please.” Zack leaned over my shoulder and rapped his knuckles lightly on the counter. “With pecan. It’s her first.”

“Ooh, virgin. Nice.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, swinging my hair forward to hide the heat that flushed my cheeks.

“No problem.” A warm hand pressed lightly to my spine. The contact sent a jolt through me that stole my breath. The hair on my neck moved, and Zack spoke into my ear. “See you later in the week, Hazel.”

I clutched the remains of my apple, staring straight forward. This is not why I came here. Hooking up with a local basketball hero had never been on my dance card. Or my Halloween card. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, a Black woman with braided silky hair stared at me with a smile on her face.

Pumpkins and witches riding broomsticks decorated the insides of the coffee van. Spices were scattered across her apron and the scent hit me in full force. I suppressed a sneeze as she passed over my coffee and I pulled out my card to pay.

“It gets me all the time too.” She looked at me with sympathy. “The spice, I mean. Especially the ginger and the cinnamon. Zach’s harmless," she said plainly. “And I think you'll be good for him. For each other, ever. But don't you take any shit from him, okay?"

“I mean, I didn’t come out here to hook up with anyone,” I muttered, then slowed my speech and repeated the whole sentence all over again for her to understand.

Her grin was the infectious sort. It must be contagious here. “It’s on the house, Aussie. Welcome to town."

I stuttered out my reply and turned away, hoping I made the right decision to move to Broomcorn Hollow after all.

CHAPTER THREE

HAZEL

Pom-poms flourished and an excess of sound hummed over my head where I sat squished between enthusiastic basketball fans. Even the floor rumbled here, and the players weren’t even on the court. I’d tried my best not to come to the game hosted at her university, but my twin had insisted I take the plunge and initiate myself into local culture. And she was right; the halftime entertainment was loud. The man beside me screamed along with the cheerleader’s chants as I stretched my gaze across the crowd, searching for my sister who had ostensibly abandoned me in search of snacks.

I didn't need snacks. My stomach rumbled on cue. I really didn't need snacks.

"Here you go." An oversized bucket thick with salt landed in my lap. I could almost taste it in the air. Everything was big here.

Big crowd. Big stadium with the jumbo-whatsit-screen.

Giant players.

I’d watched Zack play through the first two quarters, trying to remember basketball rules from my one coaching season at primary school—ahem, elementary school was the equivalent here. Somehow, the game seemed both smoother and more vicious from where I sat bang in the middle of the rows, with a perfect view of the game.

“Eat,” my sister, Aurora, prompted.

I obediently stuck my hand in and ate a fistful of popcorn. “Happy?” I asked, the sound muffled by the treat all at once. Apparently, this was a foodie-working hiatus from home. A hotdog was placed on top. I shook my head and swallowed. “No way am I eating all this.” I inhaled and sighed, and changed my mind. "Okay, so I did need snacks," I mumbled, sending my sister a wry grin as he sat down next to me.

Wait, what? He?

Zach plopped himself into the hastily vacated space the basketball fan made next to me.

“I met your twin. She says hi.” An arm draped across my lower back as he leaned in and brushed his lips across my ear. “You aren’t actually identical.”

A shiver rippled over me. “Not many people can tell us apart, you know.” My sister would tell me the truth. I kept that piece of information to myself as my gaze narrowed on him. Zack’s well defined chest was covered by a varsity branded letterman jacket over his basketball singlet. The one I’d been watching all night with the number 32 on it that clung to a defined chest.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus. "Stalking me, finding my sister. And you think this is Okay how, Jock Boy?" The sass flew out of my mouth before I could reel it in, but there was no knocking back that flirtatious tone. I clamped my mouth shut, but the way he assessed me with those dark damn eyes that I swore away everything told me I’d get no freebies from him.

This is not the stereotype he makes himself out to be. It was like he took that dumb-jock persona and donned it like armor to hide who he was beneath. And part of me wanted to find out.

No, I don’t.

Liar, liar, marking pen on fire.

Zack’s easy grin grew bigger. “Her hair is a different shade to yours. Pretty, but yours is…” He fell silent for a moment. “It’s like sunlight is trapped in each strand. Maybe because you still have that glow from home," he finished.

Oh, damn. “I think I preferred thinking you weren’t that perceptive.” I hugged my popcorn bucket, suddenly glad of the barrier it provided between me and the world, even though Zack had planted himself right beside me. His arm still pressed to my lower back. "Where are your snacks?"