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CHAPTER 5

JILL

“ Y ou’ve got to be kidding me right now,” I hissed into the phone, the thing pressed so tightly to my cheek it was probably leaving marks. “You said you’d be here, Grady. We’re about to start. Where the hell are you?”

I slammed my thumb on the button to end the call and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Miss Jordan, we’re ready for you,” the kind looking camp counselor said, cautiously glancing around the small cabin we’d been offered to prepare in before our first read-along.

“Oh, good. I’ll be right out.” I pretended to fuss with some papers laid out on the bench in front of me, giving her a warm smile—or at least as warm of one as I could manage given I was clenching my teeth so hard my molars were about to crack.

I could kill him.

I’d been calling Grady for the last half hour, realizing pretty quickly after I’d arrived that he’d either missed the part about getting there an hour early or he’d just blown it off entirely. I didn’t care much either way, there was no excuse for this.

And as if being a flake wasn’t bad enough, it left me to get things started . . . assuming he eventually showed. If I had to do the whole program by myself, I was going to vomit. We’d picked one of the longest books for this camp appearance because it was supposed to be the grand kickoff of the series. I’d be up in front of all these kids, their parents, the camp crew, and the press for god knew how long if Grady didn’t get there.

Ugh. I could barely think his name without my neck getting hot and my stomach flopping over. I’d been worried about my crush coming back with this forced proximity to the man, but apparently I’d been completely off base. Because we were only one day in, and I never wanted to see him again.

After stalling for another minute I hung my head and admitted I couldn’t delay any longer. Cleo had made it crystal clear that no matter what happened with the “sports magnet”—her words—I was to do my part to make sure these kids got excited about books and reading this summer. The state had earmarked funds in a grant we were going to apply for, and the stats from this program were key in making our application stand out. If we got that money, then whatever happened with the town budget we would still be okay.

The sound of the crowd around the corner was like water in a low flowing brook, a murmur that grew stronger the closer I got. As I approached the side of the stage the camp usually deployed for talent shows and campfire story contests, I dug my nails into my palms.

You can do this. I told myself, fighting against the deafening rush of blood to my head. I’d almost passed out once in college when I had to give a presentation in my contemporary Irish fiction class. Roddy Doyle’s masterpiece, The Van, had nearly caused a heart attack in front of a packed lecture hall. Not that it was the book’s fault. I was made to read books, not give speeches about them.

“Good morning, everyone,” I said, practicing what I’d talked about with Lis, scanning my eyes out over the crowd with a smile plastered to my face. I took a deep breath, settling behind the taller of the two microphones. The other was in front of the chair Grady was supposed to sit in when he did his reading.

“Good morning, Miss Jordan,” the kids called back to me in such startling unison that I froze on the spot. They’d practiced that. Which was simultaneously endearing and terrifying to someone like me, who much preferred to remain anonymous.

My chest got even tighter when I realized all the children were looking back and forth between me and the end of the stage, expectation lighting their little faces. They were looking for Grady. The super cool, all-American sports star that was supposed to be beside me. Supposed to be, but wasn’t.

“Are we excited to do some reading today?” I asked, masking my own panic with a sort of syrupy enthusiasm. For a second, I thought I was pulling it off. But a sense of unease swept through the crowd in front of me, and a few of the kids started to fidget, tugging at the grass beneath them and scrunching their faces.

My heart started to hammer and I swallowed dry air.

“We’ve got a really good one for you today,” I went on, forcing myself to speak despite the wobble in my voice. “I think you’re going to be pretty pleased with our selection.”

I turned awkwardly, trying to avoid the questioning eyes of the camp’s program director, as I reached for the copy we’d set on stage.

“Have any of you heard of this one?” I asked, bringing the book up to face the crowd, and noticing with embarrassment that my hands were shaking too hard for anyone to read the damn cover. “It’s a new book, but everyone loves it.”

A hushed murmur started in the back of the crowd, and bodies shifted, as if people were about to actually get up and leave because Grady hadn’t shown. If I could have smiled while puking, that’s what I would have been doing. I tried to project a beam of determined fervor at the kids and adults now entirely distracted in front of me.

“There!” someone shouted and an arm stretched out to point in the direction of the parking lot. I peeked over my shoulder at the director, who looked just as confused. She shrugged and I faced the crowd again, determined to press on.

“Let’s get started, okay?”

“He’s here!” a little boy called out, jumping to stand up on one of the log benches.

Another boy jumped up beside him and his expression erupted. “Holloway is here!”

In a wave, the whole crowd began to turn and look, leaning and standing on tip toes to see over the rest. I was blocked from whatever they were seeing by a stand of thick pines, but I heard the roar of an engine entirely too close to the stage area, and then a car door slammed.

Grady came jogging around the trees to a sudden uproar—every parent, child, and camp counselor clapping and yelling as if Beyoncé herself had just arrived. He was in a pair of gray slacks and a crisp white button down, and his hair looked like it was wet. Even still, he managed to look polished and poised, clearly unaffected by his tardiness like I was.

Beside me the director sighed so loudly I could hear her over the crowd’s noise, and part of me took offense at the depth of her relief, even if I shared it.

Grady took the stairs in one big stride, his size and grace as irritating to me as everything else about him now. And he only made that feeling run more potently through my veins when he flashed his wide, perfect-teeth, mussed hair, million-dollar smile at me before turning to face his adoring fans.

It was, perhaps, wildly unfair for me to hate that he was being given this attention, while at the same time wanting him there for that exact purpose. But he’d let me down. He was meant to shield me from the crowd he was now so confidently commanding with his mere presence. And he’d failed. Even if just for a few minutes, he’d left me on my own. In front of all these people. It was my worst nightmare come to life and it sucked to admit I’d always thought Grady of all people would never have let that happen.

“So, sorry I’m late,” he apologized, not even bothering to look back at me when he said it. “I would never miss this chance though, so I’m so glad I got here in time. Do you all still want to read some books?”

The kids screamed and the parents beamed, and I handed Grady the book with as much of a smile as I could. His gaze lingered on me for only a fraction of a second, and I wanted to believe it held remorse, but he was too quick, turning back to take his seat before I could be sure.

He finished the program and took questions for half an hour, never once looking anything but professional. I knew he’d been given media training when he joined the league, but Grady would have hardly needed it. He’d been a skilled operator since he was thirteen years old and charmed my mom with a batch of homemade cookies into agreeing to let Joey go to an ice fishing derby for the weekend, three hours away, with only his eighteen-year-old cousin as a chaperone.

The man could have charmed the pants off a mannequin. And he knew it.

By the time the counselors had corralled the kids into their cabin groups for lunch, and the parents had been shooed away by the program director, it was just he and I in the tiny cabin gathering our things. Or more accurately I was gathering my things. Grady didn’t need any things, because all he had to do was show up to do his part.

“That went pretty well, right?” he asked, swiping his fingers through his short brown hair.

I tossed a dismissive glance over my shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge that lame bid for praise. Hadn’t he gotten enough from everyone else? When I was done packing up, I went to leave, shuffling past his wide frame blocking half the door.

“Hey,” he said, jogging after me. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Ah, so you do realize your lateness affected me too? Cool.” I kept walking, heading for my car, and shaking my head as we walked past his, parked up on the lawn like he’d come speeding in to save the day. The fact that that was what he’d done, as far as I was concerned, only soured my mood further.

“Jill, stop. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

When I got to my car, I flung open the passenger door and tossed my tote bag inside.

“You knew how important this was,” I said, keeping my eyes down.

As I shut the door and went to move around him, he blocked my path, bending his knees so we were at the same level. His brow was hanging low, his mouth curved into a frown.

“I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you just have been here on time? Like you promised?”

A sigh deflated him, and he turned to sag into my car. “I slept through my alarm.”

“Are you kidding me? We’re not in high school, Grady. Dog ate my homework isn’t really a valid excuse in the real world.” I went to move past him again and he stopped me with his hand on my arm. Warm tingles made my breath catch.

“I don’t sleep great.” He blew out a gust of air, his eyes searching mine. “Last night was bad. I must have turned it off without even knowing. I only woke up at all because I forgot to close the blinds.”

The more words came out of his mouth, the more I lost the fight to look away. Snarky quips about me owing the sun god for saving me, dispersed like smoke on a strong wind, even as I tried to hold onto my annoyance. The look of apology on Grady’s face finally started to look real.

“Almost all of these readings are in the morning, Grady.” I shook my head, hating that he looked sorry and tired and… I don’t know, something else a lot harder to be mad at. “If you can’t make them on time?—”

“I will,” he said, pushing off my car and dropping his chin to look me in the eye. “I will.”

I wasn’t convinced and I didn’t hide it. But it was futile trying to stay mad at someone who seemed to be genuinely remorseful. So, I shrugged and let it go. “Okay.”

As I rounded my trunk, Grady set his arms on the roof, his height one of the things I always forgot about him until I was overwhelmed by his presence.

“How about we ride together?”

I tugged open my door, looking at him over the roof like he was nuts. “What?”

“Pick me up. I can’t be late if we arrive at the same time.”

“So, I’m your chauffeur now?”

A sparkle in his eye told me his humor was returning. “I don’t want to fuck up again, and you don’t trust that I won’t. You won’t even have to drive to the locations every time, I can drive once you get to my house and make sure I get up.”

“And if I get there and you’re knocked out and then we’re both late? I can’t afford to mess up this program. It might not be a big deal to you, but this is seriously important for my job.”

He was nodding as he came around the car to my side. “I know. So, I’ll give you a key. You can show up as early as you want, and wake my ass up in any manner you see fit if I’m not up by the pre-established time. Deal?”

This was insane. We were two grown adults, there was no need to go to such lengths. But I could see it on his face: Grady didn’t trust himself, but he trusted me.

“You seriously want me coming into your parents’ house and blowing an air horn by your head if you’re late?”

His low rumbling chuckle was as familiar as a warm breeze, tickling my skin and twisting my insides, just like it used to.

“I knew you’d make it painful.” His lips were pressed into a smirk, as he nodded his head. “You do whatever you need to. But make sure we’re always on time from now on.”

“Fine,” I said, turning to get behind the wheel. “You might regret this.”

He tapped the roof of my car. “Something tells me you’ll see to it.”

Considering how awful the morning had been because of him, a little payback seemed only fair. But judging by the grin on his face in my rearview mirror as I pulled away, he wasn’t too worried.