Page 25 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)

TWENTY-FIVE

GRACIE

Gentle jazz music filtered through the mostly empty house. I sat back on the couch, letting the e-reader in my hand fall to my chest as my eyes slid around the room. Loneliness washed over me at the bare furniture and the pile of boxes in the corner of the room.

I exhaled and pushed myself up, setting the device on the coffee table on the way to the kitchen for a snack or a drink or some other distraction from another night alone.

I’d spent the afternoon with Aunt Mercy.

She’d been in better spirits, even remembering my name without the staff prompting her.

We spent an hour walking around the garden while she told me about her week.

The shopping trip to the grocery store where she’d picked up cookies for a late-night treat.

The bingo game in the morning with a pair of college-aged volunteers.

Lunch with her new friends. She’d developed quite the social life.

Meanwhile, I had absolutely nothing on my social calendar except a self-care night.

After an overly long bubble bath that left me wrinkled, I put on my cutest pajamas, a red silk short and tank top set edged with lace, and painted my nails. Once they dried, I was still unsure whether to keep reading my book or watch a movie, so I searched for food.

I raided the fridge, disappointed to find the same sad-looking jar of blueberries and salad remains from the week before.

Living alone sucked for a variety of reasons, but losing unexpected snacks topped the list. My only solace was a half-empty bottle of red I couldn’t remember drinking. I pulled it out anyway.

Digging into the back of the pantry, I emerged with an unopened sleeve of crackers. A few slices of cheese, a handful of nuts, and the rest of a bag of baby carrots, and my charcuterie dinner was complete.

I wandered back into the living room to find my phone vibrating on the coffee table. My temporary panic that the nursing home had called to tell me Aunt Mercy was hurt melted away when I spotted the name on the screen.

“You called me?” I asked, incredulous.

“What? Am I not supposed to call?” Rob’s gruff voice vibrated over the line.

“You can call. But I’m used to your one-word texts.” I laughed as I set down my plate.

“I send more than one word.”

“Don’t lie. I like them. They’re like little manifestos: Five. Tonight. Drywall.” I settled onto the couch, abandoning the food. “So, why are you calling?”

“I’m driving. What are you doing?”

“Reading a book, eating a very sad-looking cheese plate and hoping this wine hasn’t turned into vinegar.” I poured the wine and took an experimental sip. A little acidic, but drinkable.

“That sounds horrific.”

“It’s surprisingly not that bad,” I admitted. “Besides, I am in a great mood. Some mysterious anonymous community member donated a crate of coffee to the school.”

“Who would have done that?” he deadpanned.

“It’s a real mystery, isn’t it? Best of all, it isn’t some weak breakfast blend. Gourmet coffee in about a million flavors. It’s the talk of the teacher’s lounge. Should I reveal your secret coffee donor identity?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Must be some other coffee aficionado.”

I rolled my eyes, heat pooling in my stomach. “Well, if you run across this mysterious and probably handsome donor, tell them thank you.”

“If I had to deal with a packed classroom of screaming six-year-olds, I’d need coffee, too. It’s really more of a public service.”

I didn’t have to argue with him about that. “Where are you driving?”

“Home. We had a captain’s meeting at Gable’s tonight, and I took your advice.”

“My advice?”

“Team building. We’re going to go to a ropes course.”

“No axe throwing?”

“Out of an abundance of caution, no.”

“Well, next time thank me with a dessert,” I said, frowning at the decidedly unsweet snack in front of me. “I like crème br?lée and anything with a bunch of chocolate.”

“I can turn around,” he said with a level of deadly seriousness that I believed he would.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I took another sip of the wine. “You could come over though, if you wanted.”

The silence stretched out on the other end of the line. I held my breath.

“I’d like that, but…” He paused, exhaling audibly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You said we’re friends,” I pressed, fortifying myself with another gulp of wine. “Friends hang out.”

“It’s late.”

I pursed my lips together. “Right. You’ve got practice in the morning. I’ve got school.”

He cleared his throat. “I want to. Which is why I shouldn’t.”

“Right,” I sighed, pouring myself another glass. “So, tell me about the dinner. Did you have fun?”

I smiled at the grunt that came out in response.

“Fine. Good, even. We came together on the idea of doing the ropes course pretty fast and left the rookie with a decent sized bill. Food wasn’t bad either.”

I snagged on “the rookie.” “Wait, you what? Who?”

“Not important. He took a cheap tackle on me during pre-season and somehow still got on the team. I sure as hell wasn’t paying for dinner, so I set him up with the tab.”

I raked a hand over my face. “Seriously, Rob?”

“Seriously, Astrid.” His voice lightened into teasing. “He owed me. Still owes me, actually. But trust me, he got off easy. Noa and Diego wouldn’t let anyone order anything too outrageous.”

“What’s too outrageous for an NFL rookie?”

“Ten grand. I think the bill came in around five.”

My stomach tumbled at the amount. “That’s ten months of student loan payments.”

“He’s not a teacher. He’s on the roster. It’s a small fraction of what he would have owed me if he’d sent me to the injury report this season.”

“That’s awful.”

“He’s awful. Don’t feel sorry for him. You don’t even know him. Feel sorry for me.”

I laughed. “Poor Rob Grant, with his starting position in the NFL, a loving family, and a beautiful home. It’s a real struggle for you, isn’t it?”

“Not only did I have to sit next to the guy who tried to take my position, but I’m leading the defense in an art project before we go to the ropes course.”

“A art project? Doing what?”

“Making beer steins.”

I barked out a laugh. “Beer steins? Really?”

“I offered to brew beer, but special teams took that job first. Noa told the other captains about my pottery studio.”

“Traitor.”

“He is, isn’t he? Now these assholes are gonna know that I have a pottery studio.”

“Is that really so bad? Everyone on your team knowing a little more about you?”

“They know more than enough. Hell, every football fan knows more than enough.”

The wine loosened my inhibitions enough to consider asking the question, but I held it back. “You’ve been pretty tight-lipped in recent years. Maybe it’s time to let your teammates in.”

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening but I pressed on. “A little bit. Like, a stein-ful.”

He huffed on the other end of the line, and I half-expected him to say goodnight.

“How about a half a stein-ful?”

“I think that’s a start.” I smiled as he softly exhaled. The faint rustle of clothing transported me into the car next to him as he raked a hand down his face, head tilting with a faint smile. “Are you still driving?”

“I’m parked outside the house.”

“I should let you go then,” I said, not at all ready to hang up. Disappointed I hadn’t convinced him to come over.

“Mila’s already asleep. Mom, too, by the looks of it. There’s no reason to hurry inside. How was your day?”

I fought back a smile. “It was fine. I ate my whole lunch uninterrupted by kids, and Aunt Mercy remembered who I was when I stopped by.”

“She did? That’s great.”

“She’s settled in.” I stopped before telling him about the financial manager who stopped me on my way out.

I tipped my head back, closing my eyes against the monthly fees that my family had been piecing together from a combination of Aunt Mercy’s retirement and our own money until we sold the house.

“She has a new friend. Dot. She’s a new resident and moved in across the hall.

Apparently, she was a Rockette back in the day. It’s the talk of the floor.”

“Thrilling.” Rob’s low rumble of a laugh sent shivers through my body. “I’m glad you had a good visit.”

“Thanks for ripping off the bandaid with me last time. I just let too much time pass,” I admitted.

“Anytime.”

My chest clenched at the silence that followed, readying myself for a quick good night, ending the unexpected phone call.

“What are you reading?”

I picked up the e-reader off the coffee table, blanching at the name of the book. “Uh…David Copperfield?”

The lie came to me on the fly, and as soon as I said it, I couldn’t remember if that was the name of a Charles Dickens novel or a magician or both.

“The Dickens novel?” Rob asked, his tone skeptical and his response unreadable.

“Yes?”

“Huh.”

“Huh? Do you think I don’t read classics?” I asked, slightly annoyed even if I didn’t read classics. Lily had sent me an erotic short by Chuck Tingle and I was just about to find out how President Bigfoot pounded this journalist in the butt.

“No.” He drawled out his answer. “I’m just surprised that you’re reading David Copperfield. It’s actually a favorite of mine.”

I winced, completely unprepared to have a conversation about Dickens’ novels with Rob Grant. “Really?”

“What part are you reading?”

I made a panicked search for my phone before remembering I had it pressed to my ear. “Um…when he becomes a magician?”

Not bothering to wait for Rob’s response, I spilled the truth. “Alright, I’m reading a novella called President Bigfoot Pounded me in the Butt.”

The silence pained me. I winced. No, crawled into myself before I found the confidence to push on.

“Lily sent it to me. It’s actually pretty funny.” I cringed, cradling the phone with one hand and searching for that bottle of wine with the other.

“So, you’re not reading David Copperfield?”

“I’m still not sure if that’s the name of a magician and you’re just messing with me or that’s actually the title of the book,” I admitted, sitting up on the couch enough to pour myself another glass of wine.

“It’s both.”

“Oh.” I tipped my head back, regretting not ending the conversation earlier.

“So.” A hint of amusement worked its way into his voice. “You’re sitting at home drinking wine and reading dirty books?”

“I mean, it’s not as sexy as the description would have you believe,” I admitted, wincing as I took another gulp of the wine.

“I bet it’s pretty sexy, Astrid.”

I closed my eyes and squeezed my thighs, not sure what had caused the sudden heat: Rob saying the word ‘sexy’ or the way he said my name.

He sucked in a breath. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, my voice wobbly. Unsure if the wine loosened my lips or it’d simply been too long since Rob had touched me, I pressed my luck. “It’s a little sexy. I mean, not like ‘in a bubble bath’ kind of sexy, but I am wearing my sexy pajamas.”

The red silk set had stretched my budget and, sadly, never been viewed by anyone other than myself. Still, I liked to pull them out of the closet and wear them around an empty house. The lacy edges tickled my upper thighs, and the camisole top showed off my chest without making me look boxy.

“Yeah?” Rob asked as I ran a fingertip between the slits in the shorts and up to my exposed stomach.

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed into the phone, waiting to see if he dropped the conversation or dove in.

“What are your sexy pajamas?”

“A red silk set with white lace trim. The shorts barely cover my ass, and they have slits all the way up the side. The top is barely a crop top. It’s so tiny I can’t wear anything underneath it.”

“And you’re wearing that right now?” he asked, voice low and sultry.

I strained to hear any indications of what he was doing, how he moved, whether he’d left the car and was in his bedroom, if he’d unzipped his pants or closed his eyes.

“Right now.” My thumb brushed the waistband of the shorts. “What are you wearing?”

“Nothing remotely sexy,” he said, voice still low. “Jeans, a black shirt.”

“That sounds incredibly sexy,” I said, closing my eyes and conjuring up a vision of Rob in my house instead of on the phone.

His hand gripping my waist and running down my leg.

Peeling off his blazer and shirt and running my hands down his chest. “The same black shirt you wore outside the pottery studio?”

The choked sound on the other end of the line made me grin. “Yeah. That one.”

“You know, when I haven’t been reading David Copperfield, I’ve been thinking about that day…”