Page 49 of Rival Hearts

“He’d better be. Sabrina has three of them.”

“That still going on?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Emily probably knew I was lying. After all, I couldn’t seem to look away from him as he balanced Amir on his feet and helped him copy the footwork. The choreographer approached him and put her hand on his forearm, laughing at the silliness between them. My palms broke into a sweat when he grinned back at her, at the familiarity between them.

“You’re turning a little green.” Emily circled her own face without looking away from her son.

I glared at her. “No, I’m not. There is no envy or jealousy. I could care less what Grady Castillo does.” As an afterthought, I added, “Orwhohe does.”

Emily laughed. “I know I told you to stay away from him, or at least cut out the sexual tension, but you’ve been terrible at both. Maybe you need to tell him how you feel?”

“Absolutely not.” I flipped my key ring around my finger repeatedly before dragging my gaze from him to look at Emily. “We’d be a terrible idea.” Almost against my will, my focus went back to him. “He’s attractive, sure. Doesn’t meanI’mattracted to him.”

Emily burst into laughter, drawing more attention toward us at the back of the room.

I gave a little wave to the twenty or so men in the room and called out, “Great job, everyone! You look amazing.”

“You’re such a liar. Please tell me you don’t actually believe yourself.”

“Do you want me to hook up with him in the middle of our campaign for mayor?” I arched my eyebrows in challenge. I knew Emily. Much like me, Emily liked to win.

Emily searched my face and sighed. “The campaign manager in me thinks it’s a terrible idea. So much room for error in every direction.” She ran her hand from the top of my head and along my back in a motherly gesture. “But more than that, I want you to be happy. I always wondered what held you back. You drifted from guy to guy, test-driving them and discarding them like they weren’t quite good enough. For the longest time, I thought Trent was the reason. Never made sense to me, but he was the best I could come up with.” She nodded toward Grady. “Trent wasn’t the reason. He never was. It was him, wasn’t it? None of the guys werehim.”

I shook my head, panic welling up. “That’s—that’s—” I wanted to say ‘ridiculous,’ but the word kept getting stuck in my throat.

“True,” Emily finished in a whisper as Amir barreled into her legs. Dad and Grady trailed behind him, too close for them to continue their conversation, even if I had been able to formulate a reply.

When our gazes met, Grady’s expression was filled with concern. “Maggie?” He scanned me, his brow furrowing. “Are you sick? You’ve gone really pale.”

Emily gave me a sideways glance but didn’t say anything.

Was Emily right? Her words played on a loop. If Emily was right.Oh, God. If Emily was right… Which meant—No, nope. That was not how I felt. I didn’t. Impossible. That feeling, the one Emily was implying, couldn’t be sprung on someone like a surprise. I’d have known if I’d felt that way. Right? Panic swelled. Right?

“Maggie May?”

I glanced up and realized people were streaming out of the room around them.

“See you tomorrow night, Grady.” The choreographer grazed his arm on the way past.

“Thanks again for your help, Amy,” he called after her.

My teeth clenched in annoyance. Why did she keep touching him? “I need a drink,” I muttered.

A slow smile spread across his face. “The one thing I have at my house in abundance is cold beer. You’re welcome to a few of them if you want.”

There was a chance I was going to need more than a few to bury the realization threatening to burst out. I intended to ignore what Emily had just put in front of me for as long as I possibly could. Feeling anything other than hate for Grady wasn’t helpful. Objective lust. That’s all I could feel. Maybe I’d sleep with him and maybe I wouldn’t, but that was the furthest we’d ever go.

“Do you still have your mattress in the middle of the living room?”

“Nope.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Kelvin moved it for you?”

He chuckled. “No, your dad came over this week and gave me a hand. For some reason, he thought the living room was a silly place to be sleeping. Helped me put together the frame too. It’s like a real bed now.”

With a nod, I raised my index finger. “One drink.”

I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be one drink. Like so many other things where he was concerned, once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop.

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