Page 62 of Drop the Mitts

He grinned. “Goodnight, Grace.” Then let her go.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Grace

Grace woke to an empty bed.How she didn’t hear André get up and get ready was beyond her—she’d slept like a rock.I like to watch you sleep.

She shivered and threw her legs over the side of the bed, the night before flooding her head like she’d just reached out and turned on the tap. Cool air hit her legs, and she looked down, her eyes widening. Hadn’t she worn pants to bed? She scanned the floor—nothing—then threw back the sheets to find them wadded up near the bottom of the mattress. Had she kicked them off while she slept? Had André noticed?

Grace pressed her palms to her cheeks. She felt normal. Better than normal. Well-rested. Relaxed. That wouldn’t be possible if he’d slipped something in her food, right?

She tapped her phone and blinked.Nine thirty?How had she slept until nine thirty? Shit. She stalked to the bathroom. She was supposed to be down at the restaurant at ten, which did not leave time for more than a quick rinse. Though, it wasn’t like shewas going to wash her hair before going to a water park anyway. Not that she planned to get it wet.

Rides weren’t exactly her thing. She’d read enough stories of people losing limbs or being decapitated on water slides, she hadn’t gone on one since she was sixteen.

The bathroom smelled like steam and citrus shampoo. Apparently André had showered before leaving for practice. Where he was only going to get sweaty.Why would he need to do that?

Her stomach tightened as she stripped off her underwear, tank top, and bra. She hated sleeping in her bra, but she wasn’t going to free-boob it in the same bed as André. Especially not after what happened last night.

The heat of him, his breath on her neck. The way his thigh pressed between hers, the weight of him as he shifted above her.

He’d been hard. Fully.

She hadn’t moved until he did. She hadn’t dared to. Because his percentage estimate had been way off. Last night it had been closer to ninety-ten.

Grace hopped in the shower. None of this made any sense. She should have shut down last night. From the first moment she met André, she’d known he was trouble, but why was her body not locking up around him anymore?

She chewed on that as she rinsed. Troy made her feel like she’d been living with the lights dimmed her whole life, but his behaviour hadn’t lined up with his words. He touted commitment and loyalty, but then he’d close down investments before his contract was up or find loopholes to shut down the purchase of an investment property after signing.

André’s actions didn’t line up with his words either, but in an opposite way. He played the part of a Troy Bowen, but then he picked his friends up and drove them to Edmonton, started charity games for his brother, and brought people tacos.

Why? For Troy the game was obvious. He wanted everyone to see him as a kind, compassionate man, hiding away his borderline narcissism. Why would André want people to make negative assumptions?

Grace finished washing, that image of André in black and white wearing Calvin Klein’s flickering through her memory with annoying regularity. Not helped by the fact that she’d kept the window open on her phone.

She towelled off, applied lotion, and tugged open her makeup bag, fingers darting on autopilot. Concealer. Brow pencil. Blush. Lip tint. Waterproof mascara. A natural look that wouldn’t make her look ridiculous if she did end up getting wet at the pool.

She quickly applied her makeup, then walked into the bedroom in her towel and grabbed her swimsuit from her suitcase. Black, two-piece, high-cut, mid-rise. Flattering but safe. She’d picked it because it was simple. Comfortable. Something that said she wasn’t there to impress anyone.

Lies.

She swallowed. She was thirty-six years old. Her abs weren’t what they used to be. The skin on her thighs made her think of her grandmother’s underarms.

She wasn’t kidding herself, she knew she looked good. Especially for her age. But knowing that André would notice her made her wish she could’ve stood in front of him ten years ago.

Hadn’t he already seen her half naked?If you do that here, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from watching.

She pursed her lips and slipped into the swimsuit, then pulled on her wide-leg pants and a breezy button-down. Easy enough to peel off later but nice enough to work for breakfast.

Grace rolled her bra and a pair of underwear into a towel, then shoved the fabric burrito into her purse. She brushed her teeth, grabbed her room key, and exited into the hall.

André and the other Snowballs players didn’t make it right at ten, but they were close. They filed in and piled their plates high at the buffet. Everyone was there–the whole Snowballs team with their significant others, even some friends who Grace hadn’t met yet. Emma brought two of her coworkers, and Jenna’s friends Rhonda, Anne, and Tina brought a few extras.

André and Mike sat at their table. A brunette wearing a neon-pink bikini top under an off-the-shoulder sweater seemed to particularly appreciate whatever André was talking about. Not that Grace was paying particular attention.

It didn’t take long for their group to eat, and then they were on their way to the water park. After walking what felt like ten miles, they arrived at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

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