Page 3

Chapter

Three

Grace

The final buzzer screamed through the Saddledome, and the crowd roared in response. She’d half planned on leaving when she left the suite to go to the washroom, but didn’t want to explain that to Jenna and Country. They probably would’ve blamed André, which could’ve been worth it.

She was glad she’d stayed. Not only because of the baby cuddling and conversation with Jenna, but the game was a barn burner. The Blizzard scored a last-minute goal, sealing the win against Winnipeg, and everyone in the arena lost their ever-loving minds.

Grace stood with them, clapping and shouting. It felt good to get lost in the energy of it for a moment, even if it didn’t last.

She tried. She really did. But even as she smiled at Jenna, even as she acknowledged the deafening excitement around her, the weight in her chest hadn’t budged or lessened all night.

The email sat over her heart like a lead brick. After Country brought up the charity game, it seemed to crush her spine.

It would be a miracle if she went back to work in the morning, let alone take on more projects. If she screwed this up, what else was she overlooking?

All night, it felt like she was playing a part. She spent the last two hours forcing herself to stay present, nodding in the right places, laughing and cheering when appropriate. Had she done well enough? Had she seemed normal?

The whole game was a blur. At least her snark had been on point with André, which made her a teensy bit proud. For most of the third period, she’d played with Hope. That’s what she needed. A baby at all times so she had an excuse to avoid any adult social interactions.

"Warren should’ve buried that five minutes ago. Never should’ve come down to the wire." Country threw himself back into his seat, shaking his head.

“Unreal,” Brett crossed his arms over his chest. “He had an empty net and still managed to put it wide.”

“Okay, but the angle of that pass—” Suraj started.

“The angle was fine!” Tyler cut in, gesticulating. “He panicked. You could see it. His footwork was all off.”

André scoffed. “Monohan was getting double-teamed in the corner. He did everything right with that push.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t bad, but Warren played like he had fifty-pound weights strapped to his ankles.”

Country pointed at her. “See, Jenna gets it.”

Tyler laughed as he stood. “Smart man. Take your wife’s side.”

Jenna’s eyes flared as she switched Hope to her other arm. “Only if I’m right.”

“You really should be filming right now. Your channel would love this.” Grace stood and smoothed her slacks. André hesitated a moment, his face inches from her crotch. His throat bobbed, and something swooped low in her belly when he looked up. She stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice.

“Could you do an ‘on location’ YouTube stream?” Emma asked.

Jenna shrugged. “The audio would be shit.”

Country rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. We could get those mics with the little grey puff balls?—”

“Don’t start on the cute mics again.” Jenna laughed, then sobered when Hope mewled in her arms. She pulled the blanket up over her ears. “It’s too loud in here. I’m going to get her back to the truck.”

Country saluted the group, then rushed to gather Jenna’s purse and the diaper bag. Grace’s hand tightened over the strap of her handbag. They were so adorable it hurt, right at her sternum. It wasn’t that she was looking for someone. She was glad to be single after Troy, but the novelty was beginning to wear off.

The crowd was still buzzing, a mix of people lingering to watch the post-game interviews on the jumbotron while everyone else filed to the exits. Grace half-listened to the rest of their banter as she slipped into her blazer and slung her purse over her shoulder. Check ‘being social’ off the list. Now she needed to get home and work on damage control.

They all left with Jenna and Country, pushing into the crush of bodies streaming through the concourse. A wave of Blizzard fans buzzing with post-game adrenaline as the crowd funneled toward the exits. The heavy scent of pulled pork clung to the air, mixing with an obscene variety of cologne brands. What was it with men and sports events? They sprayed themselves like they were fighting off mosquitos in the Amazon.

André, Tyler, and Country busted up laughing in front of her, parting the seas with Country’s full set of baggage on his arms. André made some outlandish hand gesture, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Not that she wanted to. He’d been over the top since the second period, and she’d been mostly successful at ignoring him.

She’d seen it all before. He was playing to an audience, just like Troy used to. It was nearly impossible not to be sucked in by his charisma, but her divorce had been the most effective inoculation money could buy. Not paid for with her savings. Troy’s. He’d at least had the decency to pay all the lawyer fees. It meant they could be friends in the end, and she was grateful for that.

Jenna fell into step beside her, nudging her with an apologetic smile. “For the record, I didn’t know André would be here.”

Grace exhaled. “It’s fine.”

Jenna sighed, adjusting Hope against her chest. “No, it’s not fine. Country is in the doghouse.”

“I’m sure he just invited his friends?—”

“No, uh-uh. I initially told him I doubted you’d be interested at all in coming to the game, and he was the one who told me to push for it. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted you to come, but I was planning on setting up a brunch or something. The second I saw André jump up like a ball boy, I knew they’d set this up.”

Grace squeezed herself past a group of inebriated women to continue the conversation. “He plays on Country’s team?”

Jenna nodded. “He’s good. Joined a couple of years ago.”

“He looks barely old enough to rent a car.”

“He’s thirty-one, I’m pretty sure. I think he barely qualified for the league when he joined the team.”

Grace’s eyes widened. She’d thought he was at least ten years younger than her, but that was only five. “What does he do?”

“Wait, are you interested?”

Grace scoffed. “No, just curious.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “He’s a welder.”

That explained the burn scar on his knuckle. Not that she’d noticed everything about his hands. It was just there. “I didn’t—you don’t think he got the impression?—”

“No, no. You weren’t giving off vibes. He basically forced you to sit with him.”

“I probably owe him an apology.”

Jenna gave her a quizzical look. “Why?”

Grace shrugged. “I barely know the guy. I wasn’t very gentle.”

Jenna laughed. “You don’t know André. He loved it, I’m sure.”

“Are you saying I should’ve fawned over him? That would’ve turned him off?”

“I don’t think anything turns André off.”

They laughed and made their way through the now-obsolete metal detectors. Truly, Grace couldn’t be pissed about André because he’d been a perfect distraction. With him peacocking and Hope being adorable, the spotlight hadn’t been on her. It was the best gift she could’ve asked for.

Grace glanced toward André again as he threw his arm around Brett’s shoulders, dramatically explaining some play. Big, loud, cocky. He’d been over the top all night, but . . . there had been a moment. What had she said? Something about head injuries. Yes, it had been immediately before Country invited her to join the team for the charity game. He’d gone strangely quiet.

She didn’t think too hard about it because, just then, a rush of cold hit her flushed skin as they stepped out of the Saddledome. She’d left her winter coat in the car and now regretted it. At least she’d paid for preferential parking.

“I’ll see you soon. Brunch is still happening.” Jenna gave her a hug, then hurried to catch up with Country. Grace waved at Emma, Penny, and the others, then tried to orient herself since they’d exited from a different door.

Before she could find her lot, André turned and pulled Jenna into his arms, careful not to crush Hope as he pecked both her cheeks. “Don’t be mad. It was my fault, not his.”

“Mmhmm.” Jenna gave him a skeptical look, but her eyes lit up when Country wrapped an arm around her waist.

Grace caught herself staring and averted her eyes. Awkward. She needed to get moving before she had to say goodbye a second time.

Car horns blared, and fans hooted and hollered, still riding the high of the Blizzard win. Ah. There it was. She found the sign for the preferred parking and started off, then jumped when something landed on her shoulders.

Grace stuttered a step and almost lost her footing in her heels.

Two hands clamped around her arms. “Sorry, I thought you saw me coming.”

Grace looked back. André. She shivered at the warmth from his coat. “My car’s right there?—”

“I’ll walk you.” André ’s hands dropped, and he started forward. Grace didn’t move. When he realized she wasn’t following, he slowed and turned. “Is something wrong?”

She shrugged his coat off her shoulders. “I don’t need this, and I don’t need you to walk me to my car.” She stalked toward him, holding out his coat like a sacred offering. Obviously she was going to need to be more blunt.

André’s mouth quirked. “I didn’t ask what you needed. What kind of man would I be if I let you walk alone in a dark parking lot?”

“A normal one?” Grace pointed to the thousand other fans. “Also, not exactly alone.” André shoved his hands in his pockets, but before he could make another inane argument, she continued, “If it wasn’t obvious back there, I’m not interested. Kudos for waiting to make your move until after Country was occupied, though. Real ballsy.”

“Sarcasm?”

She pressed the coat against his chest. “See? You can read social cues.”

André watched her with amusement. He didn’t take the coat. She had half a mind to let it drop to the concrete. He blew out a breath. “Alright. Let’s get it out in the open. Yes. I want to sleep with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Aren’t you proud of yourself? You were correct in that assumption. But it shouldn’t be anything new for you.” He turned and threw out a hand, grabbing a guy who looked like a former linebacker and pointing at Grace. “Would you sleep with her?”

The man blinked, then said, “Hell, yeah.” His friends cheered behind him.

“André —” Grace tried to grab his hand, but he was too quick, snagging a couple with face paint and light-up necklaces as the men walked on.

“Threesome tonight? With her?” André held out his hands in front of her like he’d just pulled a door open to reveal a free car.

The woman giggled and nodded, and the man’s eyes widened. He pulled out his phone.

Grace flushed. “No, thank you! He’s just—” She gave an apologetic wave and yanked André out of the river of people winding toward the parking lot. His behavior was so ridiculous, her mind was wiped clean and all she could say was, “What the hell?”

He grinned. “I’m proving a point. You’re a beautiful woman. So don’t get all pissed and self-righteous when people notice.”

Grace scoffed. “I’m not an object for your enjoyment, asshole.” She pushed past him, stalking toward the parking lot. This was why she didn’t go out socially, why she said no to invitations to hockey games, and why she didn’t hang out with single men. She’d never seen herself as having old spinster energy, but cats, tea, and crochet were looking fantastic right about now.

“Exactly.” He jogged after her. “I’m telling you I’d love to take you home right now and do every dirty thing that ran through my head the first time I saw you walking into that adoption party. If you wanted me to. But since you’re obviously not interested, I’m offering to walk you to your car. That’s the least asshole thing I could do, no? You told me you don’t want me to pleasure you into the wee hours of the morning, and I’m still being a gentleman. I could’ve walked away. Cut my losses.”

Grace whirled on him. “And there was no part of you that thought if you played your cards right?—”

“Every part of me thought.” He stood so close, the spearmint on his breath cooled her cheek. He didn’t smell like a smoker. “One part, specifically.” André pulled the coat from her hands and dramatically draped it over her shoulders a second time. “If you didn’t notice, I’m French. I love art, and I love pleasure.”

The skin on his biceps and forearms prickled from the cold, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the least. He stepped back and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “Do you ever do things for fun, Grace?”

She rolled her eyes. “Am I supposed to walk into that? I say ‘sometimes’ and you say, ‘would you do me for fun?’”

“Hm. That’s funny. I’ll remember that. You know, for other women who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Ha. Ha.”

André grinned, walking backward. “I don’t think you had fun tonight.” He pulled out his lighter and flicked it.

She followed him, her eyes flashing as she pulled the coat tighter around her. If he wasn’t going to take it, she’d at least use it until she got to the car. “And you would know?”

André exhaled slowly, the cigarette glowing between his fingers as he gave her one of those infuriating grins. “I observe,” he corrected, tapping ash onto the pavement as he turned toward the rows of cars. “I’m guessing you parked in the least convenient place possible? Didn’t want to scratch your nice car?” She let out a slow breath, unwilling to admit it. André slowed his stride, glancing at her sideways, smirking like he was putting pieces together.

“Let me guess.” He gestured toward a row of sleek, mid-tier luxury sedans. “You’re the black Lexus. Safe, practical, but still a power move.”

Grace didn’t blink. “No.”

His grin widened. “I like this game.”

“You’re playing by yourself.”

“Mm.” He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling into the cold night air before pointing to a Range Rover parked under a streetlamp. “That one. Big, intimidating. Perfect for overcompensating.”

She let out a sharp laugh before she could stop herself. “I have nothing to overcompensate for.” Fake bravado. Not a good look, but she couldn’t help herself. An SUV had been on the table for a few minutes two years ago when Honda came out with a hybrid.

André nodded. “Interesting. So you make big money, but you don’t spend big money.”

She picked up her pace. “I didn’t say I make big money.”

“Based on that purse, either you do or Daddy does. But you don’t strike me as someone who would take handouts.” André tossed his cigarette onto the asphalt and stomped it out with the heel of his shoe.

Grace searched for a smart-ass rebuttal on that one, but his comment stung. Her parents both made good money, but they were never flush. They’d saved up for years to go to Europe for the first time, and the purse André noticed? Her parents gave it to her for her thirtieth birthday.

André stopped and scanned the lot again, then pointed at the back corner. “It’s the Volkswagen, isn’t it?”

Grace strode past him and reached into her purse to click her key fob. The lights flashed.

André jogged to catch up. “Classy. Reliable. A little boring, but that tracks.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Call your therapist. Maybe she’d have some insights.” She pulled open the driver’s side door. “Maybe when you get a little older, you’ll understand the need for comfort in a vehicle.”

André laughed out loud. “Yes, you’re practically geriatric.” He leaned against the car, his eyes sparkling as he watched her.

Grace swallowed hard. “While this has been a delight, I’m safely at my car.”

André ’s mouth quirked. “That you are. I apologize for keeping you out so far past your bedtime. Did you miss your nightly dose of Metamucil?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He straightened, then nodded once and sauntered off through the parking lot, keeping right to avoid the stream of cars waiting to exit. Grace slid into the driver’s seat, and it wasn’t until she set her bag down that she realized she was still wearing his coat.