Page 32 of Just Let Go

Grady Benson. What a waste. #KissItGoodbye

Then he stumbled on a whole conversation about whether or not he’d make it back on the Olympic team. Most thought not. It wasn’t just a general consensus; it was a landslide majority. They didn’t think he had the stuff—not anymore.

And Grady didn’t like the pit in his stomach that resulted. He should’ve stayed off his phone.

“We’ll split up into our teams now,” Trembley was saying when Grady tuned back in.

He glanced at Ryan. “Teams?”

“Committees. Each team is assigned a builder. We’re basically glorified servants.” Ryan laughed. Grady didn’t. “I’m with the ice sculpture team, so I’ll be hauling whatever they need me to.”

Trembley walked over, her chunky heels clacking on the tile floor as she did. “Mr. Benson, you can join any one of these teams, and you’ll just be at their beck and call. Whoever the team leader is will sign off on your hours and turn them back in to me, and I’ll turn them in to the judge.”

“Boy, you guys have got this all worked out, don’t you?”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing. So, what, I just pick a team?”

Trembley pressed her thin lips together into one straight line and nodded. “Except the ice sculpture team. They’ve got Mr. Brooks, and he’s our best worker.”

Ryan waggled his eyebrows. Whatever the key was to getting on this lady’s good side, Ryan Brooks had figured it out.

He scanned the room of small huddles of people. Over to the side he saw Quinn, sitting in her armchair, legs pulled up underneathher. On her lap was a clipboard, and she was addressing her team of four, which included the guy who’d walked him in. She was obviously the one in charge.

“You said I’d report to the team leader?”

The old woman eyed him. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“What team is that?” He pointed at Quinn’s group.

“Floral displays and decorations. They are responsible for making things look pretty. Not sure that’s a good fit for you.” She quirked one brow, her expression dubious.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Grady said. “I think it might be perfect.” After all, Quinn was the first woman in a long time who’d given him the cold shoulder. He was intrigued.

“If you say so,” Trembley said. “Follow me.”

He did as he was told, and seconds later they were standing next to Quinn’s huddle. She glanced up, and her whole expression changed.

“He’s all yours.”

Quinn stood. “No, he’s not.”

Trembley’s eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

Quinn smoothed her free hand over her plaid button-down and clung to her clipboard with the other hand. “Mrs. Trembley, our group is solid. We’ve got a plan laid out, and I think the display is going to be the best one we’ve ever done.”

“Wonderful,” the old lady said. “Just make sure Mr. Benson helps. He’s got to earn his community service hours. You’ll have to sign off on them and give them to me. Maybe it’s good to put criminals to work—free labor and all that.”

“I’m not a criminal,” Grady said, but she was already gone. He faced Quinn. “I guess I’m all yours.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.”

But he could tell Quinn Collins felt anything but lucky.

CHAPTER

9

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