Jamie glanced over at him as he retrieved the ball, the scowl still on his face. “I thought you had to work,” he said, dribbling back to the free throw line. He turned and aimed for the basket again, but when the ball left his hand Alex knew it was going to miss. It bounced off the rim of the hoop and fell to the ground. “s**t,” Jamie muttered, jogging over to catch the ball.
“I had some things I had to do today.” Alex shoved his hands into his pockets and hated himself for what he was about to do. In the morning sun Jamie looked almost godlike, lithe and sexy in his tight jeans. He wore a hooded flannel shirt whose sleeves had been torn away and discarded, showing off freckled, ropy arms, and the buttons didn’t start until halfway down his torso. When he leaned over the shirt gaped open
