Page 13 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Elodie

I t’s been a week, and Ansel hasn’t invited me to have dinner with him and Rosalie again.

It stings a little, if I’m being honest. I know it’s for the best, I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish he’d offer.

On the plus side, I’ve almost managed to keep from obsessing over how ridiculously incredible he looks clad only in swim trunks, so there’s that.

I’m not constantly thinking of the way his eyes darkened as he looked at me in the pool and said, caught me .

And I’m definitely not considering taking him up on his offer to stay in this perfect little guesthouse like a modern-day suburban Disney princess, waking up each morning to birds chirping outside my window and literal deer strolling on the edge of the woods across the street.

Silver linings, right?

Cleo follows me to the door, meowing her discontent at me leaving her alone for the night.

She’s gotten utterly spoiled these past few weeks, thanks to Rosie’s insistence on daily visits.

I’ve settled into an easy routine, but I refuse to let myself get comfortable.

Not when I’m finally focused on doing something good for myself.

Something that even my mother might be proud of, if I were brave enough to tell her.

I give Cleo a scratch beneath her chin, make sure I have everything in my purse, and step outside. Only to make my way across the yard and see Ansel and Rosie sitting down at the outside table for their Saturday night dinner.

“Oh, you look so pretty!” Rosie hops up and bursts through the screen door to give me a hug. “Mm, you smell good, too!”

I laugh and wrap my arms around her, reveling in her sweet smile. “Thanks, bug.”

“Where are you going?” Ansel asks lightly. His tone is the same conversational one he’s had all week. It doesn’t sound right, but who am I to tell a man his tone sounds wrong?

I smile brightly. “Out with Kari. She’s been busy the past few weeks, but Saturday nights are usually when we tear up the town…or at least pretend to.” My phone buzzes, and I hold it up. “Ride’s almost here. Have a good night!”

I swear I feel Ansel’s eyes on me as I leave. I probably shouldn’t, but I swish my hips just a little more than usual. The bottom of the dress kisses my upper thighs while I imagine Ansel groaning behind me.

A grueling thirty minutes through Atlanta traffic later, I’m walking through the doors of our favorite Mexican restaurant and beelining for the table where Kari sits.

“I’m so sorry,” I begin. “Traffic…drivers being drivers. Ooh, what’s this?”

Kari grins as the server appears. “A mojito! Figured I’d go ahead and take control of the situation. And tonight felt like we needed to start with mojitos.”

We cheer and drink, then she leans forward. “Now tell me how it’s going with my spreadsheet superhero.”

I laugh. “Your what?”

She waggles her eyebrows. “That man is a literal freak with the sheets. You know that, right?”

“I mean, he likes spreadsheets, but…” I’m about to make her tell me more when someone approaches the table. She’s gorgeous, exuding an effortlessly cool, just-stepped-off-the-beach vibe. Blonde hair hangs nearly to her bottom, and aqua blue eyes look out from a makeup-free face.

“Kari?” she asks, with what sounds like an Australian accent.

At the sound of her name, Kari breaks into a huge smile. “Holy crap—Samantha?” The women embrace, and Kari introduces me. To Samantha, she says, “What in the world are you doing here?”

She holds up a to-go bag. “Had a desperate craving for chips and guac and no desire to make it myself, so…” She grins.

“Samantha,” Kari deadpans. “The last time I saw you was the semester of college I spent in Melbourne. Twelve years ago. Running into you at a Mexican restaurant in Atlanta makes no sense.”

Samantha’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s a boring story.”

“I doubt that.” Kari pushes a chair out. “Sit down and spill.”

I nod. “Guac and chips by yourself sounds tragic, if I’m being honest.”

She hesitates, then grins. “Fine. But only if you stop with the Samantha shit. You know it’s Sam.”

Kari rolls her eyes. “ Sam , will you please join us?”

With a satisfied grin, Sam sits and pulls out the guacamole. “If you insist.” After popping a chip in her mouth and chewing, she says, “It looks like my brother’s going to join the Atlanta Granite.”

Kari’s face morphs into a grin. “No. Way ! Your baby brother? The one who was?—”

“Chubby and played video games the whole time you knew him? Yeah. Turned out to be quite the rugger but wanted to get out of Australia for a while. He was looking at Canada but couldn’t pass up the possibility of playing in the States.

He’s convinced he’ll be the best on the pitch.

So, he’s here, training with them for a couple of weeks to see if he likes it. ”

Kari smacks her forehead. “I should have put it all together. I knew there were some guys here from overseas trying out but never thought that Ollie Nash was your brother.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to look shocked. “Hold on. You work for the Granite?”

Kari nods. “I’m on the PR team.”

They spend a few minutes getting caught up as we order a pitcher of margaritas, quickly realizing that individual drinks are a waste of time. Kari nods at me. “Elodie here is living with number ten.”

My face burns at the suggestive sentence, and Kari absolutely catches it. She smirks in triumph.

Sam turns to me, eyes bright. “Ooh, the fly-half? That sounds fun. Tell me more,” she urges, shimmying her shoulders.

“It’s not like that,” I protest. But I think I want it to be. “I’m his nanny?—”

“His nanny!” Sam cackles. “I’ve read that book. Spoiler: they end up together.”

My face burns even brighter. “I swear, I live in the guesthouse behind his house.”

“She lives in the pool house,” Kari intones, and the pair of them laugh.

“Shut up,” I mutter, taking another sip of my drink.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Kari says. “But you’d make a pretty great couple. He’s the nerdy rugby player in the slutty short shorts, and you’re the sweet-as-pie Disney princess. The happily-ever-after practically writes itself, Elodie.”

“Except this is real life,” I remind her. “And in real life, thirty-year-old women are let go from their jobs and find themselves nannying, which is super ironic, given their fiancé dumped them because they can’t have kids.”

Sam’s mouth snaps shut.

Kari makes a choking sound.

“Did I…say that out loud?” I whisper.

“Babe,” Kari says, reaching for me.

I wave her off. “It’s okay. I promise.” And it is. Mostly. I’ve had a couple of years to get used to the idea. I shake it off and laugh. “Clearly, the margaritas are a little strong.”

“That they are,” Sam says, her eyes softening with something that looks oddly like…solidarity?

“So, Sam, tell us what you’re up to while your brother tries out for the team,” I say, desperate to shift the conversation away from me.

Sam sighs. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Tour around the country a bit, take in the sights. I promised Mum I’d get Ollie settled, but he’s twenty-two, not a child.”

“You’re just visiting, then? No plans to stay if he makes it?”

She shakes her head. “I’m on break from my job for the summer. We’ll see what happens.”

“What’s your job?”

“Physical therapist. Sports therapy, specifically.”

“Ooh, maybe the Granite is hiring,” Kari says playfully.

Sam rolls her eyes. “Mum would love that, honestly, but I’m not sure. I’ve been Ollie’s therapist for a few years, but it’s not like he can’t have a different one.”

The rest of the night passes in a pleasant blur of drinks and laughs. By the time I step out of my rideshare, it’s a little after eleven. I let myself through the back gate and am passing by the fenced-in patio when I hear his voice.

“Elodie.”

I freeze in my tracks, the sound of my name in Ansel’s husky timbre sending shivers across my skin.

The door hinges open to my right, and there he is, leaning casually against the frame and backlit by a solitary candle burning on the table behind him.

He’s in low-slung shorts and a T-shirt, the same outfit he’d been in earlier—not that I make a habit of noticing his clothes. Except I do. I always notice.

And those glasses. He never wears them to practice, but it seems they stay on at any other time. Thin wire frames rest perfectly on his face, highlighting his already stupidly handsome bone structure and bringing even more attention to his gorgeous eyes. Eyes that saw a little too much last week.

I swallow. “Hi—hello,” I stammer.

His lips quirk up the tiniest bit. “I thought you were finally immune to me.”

And there it is. The way he says it, the open, loose way he stands.

He’s put the ball in my court. Whatever I say next can change everything.

And maybe it’s the alcohol running through my veins, or maybe I’m just done being shy, but I’m done.

It’s not worth hiding the truth from him.

Not worth being nice for the sake of it.

Because nice girls don’t ruffle anyone’s feathers.

Nice girls make themselves small. They smile and look at the ground and do whatever is needed to keep the peace, even at their own discomfort.

I don’t want to be nice anymore.

Squaring my shoulders, I meet his stare in the dim light. “I don’t think I’ll ever be immune to you.”

A soft laugh escapes him, and the sound of it, unguarded and pleased, sends another wave of shivers across me. He lifts a glass I didn’t notice before and toasts me with it. “Glad to know I’m not alone in this.”

I tilt my head. “Alone in what, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer.

After a beat, he gestures toward the couch behind him. “Nightcap?”

I shouldn’t. Without question. It’s a terrible idea. “Sure.”