Page 4 of Drop the Mitts

“You should be thanking me.” Country nodded toward the entrance where Jenna had disappeared to meet Grace.

André dragged a slow hand over his mouth to cover his smirk. “I’ll write you a poem about it later.”

Country shook his head. “Don’t be an ass. Don’t hit on her here. Jenna told me she didn’t want to come because of guys like you.”

“Hm. I’m one of a kind, so?—”

“That. Don’t do that.”

André tipped his beer in Country’s direction. “And what if she wants me to?”

Country grinned. “Bud. She’s not going to want you to. You step out of line, and I’m going to pretend we never had this discussion.”

André dropped his feet and sat straight. “Right. Jenna will never know that I’m into Grace. I just happen to be here.”

Country blew out a breath. “This is going to bite us in the ass. I can already feel it.”

“How so? You wanted to ask her about the charity game. That’s a plenty good excuse?—”

“Jenna doesn’t know about that either. She’s weirdly protective of Grace. She acts like if anything goes wrong where she’s concerned, we’ll anger the gods and lose Hope or something.”

André frowned. “The adoption’s final.”

“Yeah. That’s what I keep saying. I—” Country looked up, and André turned his head. The door to the suite opened, and everything in his body locked up.

Jenna stepped in first, her eyes darting between Country, him, Emma, and Tyler, and the other guys filling their plates in the back. Then Grace appeared behind her.

And shit.

As much as he’d been anticipating this, he wasn’t prepared. The last time he’d seen her in person was at the adoption party. She’d only been there for a few minutes, but it was long enough to scrawl her into his brain with Sharpie. Seeing her now, in real-time, in his space, looking like a Wall Street goddess? It knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

The arena lights caught the sharp edge of her jaw, the gold in her hair, the faint pinch of irritation in her brow that made him want to see her come undone. He wanted her to slice him open with her words. To eviscerate him. Just so he could snap back and break down those walls and find out what she looked like underneath.

André ’s gaze drifted lower, hungry, involuntary. She was all sharp lines and tailored perfection—the kind of woman who made blazers look weaponized. Dark green, cinched at the waist, fitted to the point of obscenity. He imagined slipping his fingers beneath the lapels, popping open the single delicate button with nothing but the edge of his knuckles.

And those pants? Black. Cut within an inch of their damn lives.

His brain short-circuited. That high waist? It begged for his hands. The clean, sleek line from hip to heel? A masterpiece. And he had no business imagining what those legs would feel like wrapped around his hips, pressing into his back, pinning him in place with the kind of control he knew she had.

His fingers twitched. Jenna was going to know he wanted her. One look, and she was going to read it all over his face.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor,” Country hissed.

André stood up, slow, like he had all the time in the world and wasn’t sporting a massive boner. He kept his body turned toward the ice as Jenna introduced Grace to everyone. She’d seen Suraj, Curtis, Brett, and Penny at the party, but he doubted she remembered anyone’s names. Except for Emma and Tyler, whom she’d known since she first came into town. He’d already given Tyler crap for not bringing her around to a game back then.

André gave a small wave when Jenna introduced him, but when Grace started looking for a place to set her purse and blazer, he couldn’t help himself. “Here.” He stepped past Country, took the stairs up the central aisle two at a time, and reached for her things.

Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and assessing. She hesitated a moment, then slipped out of her blazer and handed both items over. Her blouse was cream-coloured and delicate, with thin straps over her shoulders.

“Sorry, didn’t have time to change.” She smiled at Jenna, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“You can have my shirt if you want.” André folded the blazer over his arm and nearly tripped as he stepped back on the stairs.

Grace’s mouth quirked. “And you would wear . . .”

“Nothing.” He deadpanned until Jenna smacked his shoulder.

“What the hell, André? Country!”

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