Page 46 of Drop the Mitts

Grace nodded, relief rushing through her. Talking and asking were the best-case scenario for this morning. André’s eyes met hers, and Grace looked back to her plate. She couldn’t handle holding eye contact right now because André smiled like they had a secret.

She finished her breakfast, then stood to excuse herself. Elodie stood and they hovered in the dance between handshake and hug before Elodie made the decision and pulled her in, kissing the air in front of both her cheeks.

Grace stepped back to find André beside the booth, his thumb looped in his pocket. Damn it. Was she going to have to?—

André reeled her in, crushing her to his chest. He leaned down and kissed both her cheeks, slower than he had with Elodie. Not just catching air.

“Um, okay.” Grace stumbled back. “Thanks for breakfast. This was a wonderful . . . networking event.”

“Date.” André raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well—” Grace closed her mouth, glancing between the two of them. “I’ll see you both soon.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the entrance.

Outside, she dragged in a lungful of cold air, revelling at the relief against her flushed skin. She walked to her car and pulled out her phone when it dinged in her purse. It was Jenna. And Country. A group chat?

She swiped up as she hit the button on the door handle and pulled it open.

Hey friends! We know this is last minute, but we’d love for you all to join us for an important meeting tonight at Curtis’s place. Bonfire, free beer and mocktails (you’re welcome). Don’t kill yourselves to be there, but it would mean a lot to us. XO J and C

Grace frowned, rereading the first line when a text from Jenna came in privately with the address of Curtis’s house.

“Hey, Grace?” She whirled. André jogged toward her from the restaurant. He held up his phone. “Did you see this?”

Grace nodded. “Do you know what it is?”

He shook his head. “First I’ve heard of it.” He slowed at the curb in front of her. “I didn’t know if you had Curtis’s address?—”

“Oh, Jenna sent it.”

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Right. Okay. I was going to offer to pick you up. If you want.”

Heat flashed down the inside of Jenna’s thighs. She wasn’t one for premonitions, and maybe it was all the talk of woo-woo therapies, but an image of her and André in the backseat of his truck hit her like a freight train.

Was she going to keep doing this? After what happened in the locker room, she obviously couldn’t be trusted when her emotions were high, and that was nearly a hundred percent of the time at the moment.

She couldn’t make the excuse that André was exactly like Troy, not after what she’d seen over the past few days. But that almost made her want to sprint faster. Whatever André was doing, whoever he was . . . all of it was foreign. It made no sense. It felt inconsistent and volatile. Everything she didn’t need in her life right now.

Her throat tightened. “I have a meeting tonight,” she lied. “I’ll have to drive over after.”

“Oh. Got it.” He nodded, scuffing his shoe against the concrete. The motion was so boyish, her ribcage nearly caved. “Well, I’ll see you there.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good luck with your meeting.”

“Yep.” Grace dropped into the driver’s seat, pretending to be busy with something so she didn’t have to look up and see the expression on his face through the windshield.

Chapter

Eighteen

André

Curtis's backyardlooked like a winter Pinterest board threw up all over it. Not in a bad way. Andre would never admit that he knew what Pinterest was, but that was the best way to describe it.

Café bulbs glowed overhead, strung through a charming pergola. Adirondack chairs circled a blazing firepit, smoke curling up into the crisp night air. Empty planters lined the far fence, and there were still drifts of snow that hadn’t melted over the past week with the Chinook. André grinned at the half-melted snowman family huddled beside the shed, looking like they'd survived chemical warfare. Barely.

André nursed a beer and let the warmth of the fire sink into his shoulders as Suraj handed him a pulled-pork sandwich stacked so high it needed engineering support. Curtis had gone full hospitality mode and ordered from Smoke Barrel BBQ, and the food was killer—brisket, mac and cheese, ribs, slaw, and cake masquerading as cornbread.

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