Page 49 of Drop the Mitts

She spun, her eyes flashing. “What are you going home to, André? Are you with someone right now?”

“I’d like to be.”

“Mm. So all this—you pointing out how my life is cold and empty, how I’m uptight, a workaholic, that’s your idea of flirting? Making me realize how desperate I am? Maybe this won’t make sense to you until you’re a bit older, but women don’t typically jump into bed with you after being criticized.”

He faced off with her across the hood of her car. “I’m not criticizing.”

“Really? Then what are you doing? Are you pissed because you’re not getting exactly what you want?”

André laughed. “Yes. Absolutely. You piss me off more than any other woman I’ve met.” She started to give a curtsy, and he held up a hand. “Don’t take that as a compliment. Here you are, a gorgeous woman, funny, smart, and you’re so scared shitless?—”

“Is that your only play? Tell me I’m scared, and I’ll fall weeping into your arms?”

“No. We’d probably need tacos for that.”

Grace opened her mouth, then snapped it closed and straightened, dropping her eyes as the gate behind him swung open with a creak. André shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, I thought you left.” Brett and Penny walked up to the curb, all smiles.

André exhaled. “Yeah, no, just talking for a second.” Why the hell was Brett always showing up at the most inopportune moments?

They looked between Grace and André. Brett grabbed Penny’s arm, probably seeing the rage flickering behind André’seyes. “Well, we were just heading home. Hope you both have a good night.”

Brett gave him a sidelong glance which André ignored. When they were out of earshot, André rounded the hood and planted himself in front of Grace, keeping his voice low. “You can’t run from everything that scares you.”

She looked up, her jaw set. "And you should know? What are you going home to, André? Hmm?” When he didn’t answer, she yanked on the driver’s side door. “You spend your life playing hockey—working what, ten hours a week?—and holding on to teenage invincibility with every cigarette you smoke.” She threw her purse in the seat. “You know, someday you’re going to have to grow up, and maybe then you won’t judge those of us who have.”

Grace dropped onto the seat and slammed the door. André stepped back onto the curb, his blood rushing hard enough he was lightheaded. He waited until she peeled away and disappeared around the corner before storming back to the walkway, slamming his hand against the fence.

Chapter

Nineteen

Grace

Friday morning,Grace stepped outside into the crisp morning air, her boots crunching softly against the thin layer of frost that had settled overnight. The sky was pale and cloudless, the sun just starting to warm the tops of the houses, making glistening black circles on the snow-dusted roofs. Her breath curled in front of her as she pulled her coat tighter and wheeled her suitcase toward the top of the steps.

Country’s truck idled in the drive. She clicked the button to drop the handle of the suitcase.

"I've got it."

Her head snapped up.

André sauntered toward her, hands in his jacket pockets, that lazy, cocky grin already curving one side of his mouth. His dark hoodie peeked out from beneath a slate-colored canvas jacket, and the wind tugged at his hair making it look deliberately tousled.

Grace froze. Her grip on the suitcase tightened. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Jenna said she and Country would pick her up.

He stopped at the base of the steps, tilting his head up to her. "You coming or planning to stand there until Hope starts kindergarten?"

Grace’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. She glanced past him and realized her mistake. That truck was weathered navy, not black. “You’re driving?”

André stepped forward and plucked the suitcase from her hand like it weighed nothing. "I told them you’d be thrilled." He walked toward the bed of the truck, and Grace followed, still in shock.

Inside the cab, Country sat in the back seat, a car seat between him and Jenna. Hope’s fuzzy pink blanket was draped over the side, her tiny feet kicking beneath it. Jenna leaned out the window, brows lifted in apology. "Country’s alternator started acting up yesterday. We didn’t want to risk it on the highway. André offered to drive. Hope that’s okay?"

Grace’s throat went dry. It wasn’t like she’d said anything to Jenna. How would they have known that spending three hours trapped in a vehicle with André sounded worse than being waterboarded?

She inhaled through her nose and forced herself to smile. “Of course. No problem.”

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