Page 36 of Sidelined By Love

Joe didn’t break my heart or anything—but he sure taught me a valuable lesson. Never date someone in the public eye. Especially if you want to stay out of the tabloids—or at least on their good sides.

I don’t mind being covered in the press for picking a particularly beautiful red-carpet dress. Thank you, Marc and Donatella.

I don’t even mind making headlines for picking a dress no one else likes. Because if I’m wearing it, you better believe I love it. There’s no shame in having unique taste.

But relationships are meant for two—and I don’t need anyone else butting into mine.

And a—well, whatever this is—with Grant would only add to the reporters buzzing around me. And I don’t need that.

Thus, I don’t need to be kissing Grant Reddington.

There. Decision made.

Except for that force that’s pulling me toward him, that just wants to be wrapped up in the brutally toned arms of an NFL quarterback, that wants to drag my fingers across the angles of his jaw and feel the scrape of his five-o’clock shadow. That feeling inside like I’m taking a champagne bath. That sure andsweet knowledge that Grant’s kisses are infinitely better than Joe Kellyn’s could ever be.

“Yeah. No. This is better. We shouldn’t—”

He stabs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “Listen, it’s not like that. I just . . . I need to . . .”

“No.” I wave a hand between us to cut him off. “I get it. Like I said, I didn’t really want to kiss you either. I just didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

His gaze slices back to me like a laser, leveling everything in its path. I’m tempted to fall too but hold my ground. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“That’s . . . good.” My tongue is failing me. So is my brain. Which can’t seem to shut off the memory of being in his arms. He’s strong. Like really strong. But there’s a tenderness in the way he holds me. It’s not selfish—like the last guy. It’s protective. It’s considerate. It’s . . . sweet.

“I’m going to go,” I nod in the general direction where my car is parked. “I should . . . I should . . . Nan is probably worried about me. And Bronco could use a walk.”

Grant cringes when I use the dog’s name, so I do it again. “Bronco is such a good boy. He deserves a treat today.”

Something flashes across Grant’s face. It’s so fast that I almost miss it. I can’t fully name it, but it almost seems like he wants a treat today too.

Well, he could have had one.

But he made his choice. Now he has to live with it.

I spin and march toward the house, Grant’s footfalls crunching leaves behind me. I want to ask him when we can practice again. If I’m getting any better.

If he’ll reconsider that whole kissing situation.

I have more self-respect than that. Not much. But enough.

I don’t even say goodbye to him, but I wave at Denise as I slip through the kitchen. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Her gaze darts between me and a spot behind me, her eyebrows forming a very clear question. She says only, “Anytime, honey.”

Somewhere close to the entryway, Grant gives up his chase, and I fling the front door open, slide outside, and slam it closed. Leaning back against the cold blue wood, I take a deep breath.

This is fine. Everything is fine.

We didn’t kiss, so all relationships are still intact. This doesn’t change anything with him. Or Kenna.

Business as usual.

Except I’m trying a little too hard to convince myself of that.

Yeah, I wouldn’t mind curling up and disappearing for a good long while, but in case Denise is looking through the window, I don’t want her to wonder why my car is still sitting beside Grant’s truck. I slink to my rental and slide in, resting my head on the steering wheel as I turn it on.

Suddenly my leg starts to vibrate, and I grab at the phone in the pocket of my joggers.

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