Page 55 of Just Let Go

He suited up, got behind the wheel, and waited for the all clear. He took off like a shot, pushing the car toward its limits on his first lap. He loved the way it felt to control something so fast, so powerful, and as he accelerated, the background noise drifted away, leaving only the track in front of him and the concentration needed to take the car around the curve without crashing. He zipped around for another lap, pushing the car even harder—faster—still focusedonlyon the speed and the accuracy necessary to stay on the course.

As he finished the final lap, Grady’s heart pounded, adrenaline simmering through his veins, and for a split second, he thought maybe he’d found something even more exciting than downhill skiing.

Bowman had arranged other events for thrill seekers like Grady—snowmobiles during training, skydiving in the off-season. Pete complained about it every time—“Our job is to keep these guys safe,” he’d said. “What they do for a living is dangerous enough.”

But Brent Bowman was an extreme sports fanatic. He craved the fast life as much as Grady—which was, he supposed, why they’d become friends.

Maybe that’s why Bowman’s dumping him stung a little more than it should have. Brent hadn’t even called to break the news himself. He’d had Pete do it. On the phone. Hadn’t their partnership over all these years warranted more than that?

“Grady?” Pete was still on the phone, probably wondering where Grady had disappeared to in the quiet on his end.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Grady said, remembering the question.

“Just think about it.”

“I did. And I gave you my answer.”

“Grady, nobody else is calling. This might be your best bet.”

It was like a sucker punch to the gut. If his best bet was Spectre, then Grady’s skiing career was in a whole lot worse shape than he’d realized.

And the hits just kept on coming.

When Quinn saw Grady’s SUV pull up outside the flower shop, the nerves kicked up in her belly.

Knock it off, Quinn. He doesn’t even remember.

He was out there—on the phone? Waiting for him to come to the door was unnerving. She tried to busy herself—moving shelves to places she knew they did not go, recopying the list she’d made of things he’d have to do before he could clock out that night, checking her hair—again—in the reflection of the glass in the door to the back room.

That last one? That’s what she was doing when Grady finally decided to stroll through the front door.

Naturally.

“You really don’t need to make yourself pretty for me,” he said. “I’ve seen you in your pajamas.”

She spun around and faced him, certain her cheeks were flushed. “You have not. You were passed out by the time I changed.”

“I might’ve peeked.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right, because that would be terribly exciting, me in my black-and-white flannel pajamas.”

“The red shirt really pulled the whole look together.”

She wanted to respond, but she had no words. He’d actually seen her in her pajamas. It wasn’t a big deal, really. After all, she’d been known to make an emergency Ben and Jerry’s run late at night wearing pajamas. Only on special occasions, of course, or in moments of desperation. Like the anniversary of the day her mom left. April 25. Still, something about knowing he’d been paying attention—itflustered her. And she absolutely could not be flustered. There was too much to do.

“I don’t believe you remember a thing about last night.” She picked her notebook up off the counter as she walked toward him. “You were drunk.”

He waited until she glanced up into those disastrously attractive eyes before responding. Then he smirked—barely—and said, “I wasn’t that drunk.”

Her pulse quickened. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Was he only pretending not to remember the hardly-kiss?

But it wasn’t a hardly-kiss, was it? It was the kind of kiss she’d been thinking about since the second it happened, and she could kick herself for it.

“Well, against my wishes, you’re here to work on preparations for the Winter Carnival.” Why couldn’t the rest of her committee have community service hours to work off? This would be so much easier if it weren’t just the two of them. “I’m in charge of decorating the pavilion, which is, unfortunately for you, a lot of work. It’s a big responsibility.” She gave him a once-over. “Are you familiar with that concept?”

He sauntered over to the stool behind the counter and sat down. “You sound very judgmental right now.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.”

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