Page 9 of Drop the Mitts

“Unreal,” Brett crossed his arms over his chest. “He had an empty net and still managed to put it wide.”

“Okay, but the angle of that pass—” Suraj started.

“The angle was fine!” Tyler cut in, gesticulating. “He panicked. You could see it. His footwork was all off.”

André scoffed. “Monohan was getting double-teamed in the corner. He did everything right with that push.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t bad, but Warren played like he had fifty-pound weights strapped to his ankles.”

Country pointed at her. “See, Jenna gets it.”

Tyler laughed as he stood. “Smart man. Take your wife’s side.”

Jenna’s eyes flared as she switched Hope to her other arm. “Only if I’m right.”

“You really should be filming right now. Your channel would love this.” Grace stood and smoothed her slacks. André hesitated a moment, his face inches from her crotch. His throat bobbed,and something swooped low in her belly when he looked up. She stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice.

“Could you do an ‘on location’ YouTube stream?” Emma asked.

Jenna shrugged. “The audio would be shit.”

Country rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. We could get those mics with the little grey puff balls?—”

“Don’t start on the cute mics again.” Jenna laughed, then sobered when Hope mewled in her arms. She pulled the blanket up over her ears. “It’s too loud in here. I’m going to get her back to the truck.”

Country saluted the group, then rushed to gather Jenna’s purse and the diaper bag. Grace’s hand tightened over the strap of her handbag. They were so adorable it hurt, right at her sternum. It wasn’t that she was looking for someone. She was glad to be single after Troy, but the novelty was beginning to wear off.

The crowd was still buzzing, a mix of people lingering to watch the post-game interviews on the jumbotron while everyone else filed to the exits. Grace half-listened to the rest of their banter as she slipped into her blazer and slung her purse over her shoulder. Check ‘being social’ off the list. Now she needed to get home and work on damage control.

They all left with Jenna and Country, pushing into the crush of bodies streaming through the concourse. A wave of Blizzard fans buzzing with post-game adrenaline as the crowd funneled toward the exits. The heavy scent of pulled pork clung to the air, mixing with an obscene variety of cologne brands. What was it with men and sports events? They sprayed themselves like they were fighting off mosquitos in the Amazon.

André, Tyler, and Country busted up laughing in front of her, parting the seas with Country’s full set of baggage on his arms. André made some outlandish hand gesture, but she couldn’thear what they were saying. Not that she wanted to. He’d been over the top since the second period, and she’d been mostly successful at ignoring him.

She’d seen it all before. He was playing to an audience, just like Troy used to. It was nearly impossible not to be sucked in by his charisma, but her divorce had been the most effective inoculation money could buy. Not paid for with her savings. Troy’s. He’d at least had the decency to pay all the lawyer fees. It meant they could be friends in the end, and she was grateful for that.

Jenna fell into step beside her, nudging her with an apologetic smile. “For the record, I didn’t know André would be here.”

Grace exhaled. “It’s fine.”

Jenna sighed, adjusting Hope against her chest. “No, it’s not fine. Country is in the doghouse.”

“I’m sure he just invited his friends?—”

“No, uh-uh. I initially told him I doubted you’d be interested at all in coming to the game, and he was the one who told me to push for it. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted you to come, but I was planning on setting up a brunch or something. The second I saw André jump up like a ball boy, I knew they’d set this up.”

Grace squeezed herself past a group of inebriated women to continue the conversation. “He plays on Country’s team?”

Jenna nodded. “He’s good. Joined a couple of years ago.”

“He looks barely old enough to rent a car.”

“He’s thirty-one, I’m pretty sure. I think he barely qualified for the league when he joined the team.”

Grace’s eyes widened. She’d thought he was at least ten years younger than her, but that was only five. “What does he do?”

“Wait, are you interested?”

Grace scoffed. “No, just curious.”

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