Page 44 of Sidelined By Love

“Me?” I squint at him. “I thought you just ordered for the whole table.”

His eyebrows dip into a seriousV.

“So, you didn’t? Just order for me, that is?”

“I’m not sharing if that’s what you’re asking.” He plucks at the tip of his chin. “I just carried you halfway up the Incline and all the way down. I’m a big guy. Got to eat big to stay big.”

A snort escapes through my nose before I realize it’s even there. “You’re going to eat all of that?”

“You doubt my ability?”

I shrug.

“Fine. If I can eat it all, you buy breakfast.”

Kenna elbows my arm and adds a quick shake of her head. “Don’t dare him. Mom says he’s a garbage disposal.”

I narrow my gaze and study his face and form. I was just up close and personal with the broadness of his back and the strength of his arms and legs. He’s a big guy—for sure. But his muscles are sleek and well-shaped, his hips trim and waist firm. And he’s certainly not as big as some of the guys on the team.

Though, maybe that’s not a fair comparison. Linemen aren’t made petite.

And there’s no doubt Grant worked up an appetite. But no way a guy that fit would put away six thousand calories in one meal. It may be a bye week, but he wouldn’t throw off his training in the middle of the season.

Sitting up a little straighter, I shake my head. “I don’t think you can do. Nuh-uh.”

Eyebrows slowly rising and wrinkling his forehead, he says, “Every bite. And whatever you don’t eat off your own plate.”

I reach across the table, and his hand meets mine in a firm shake. His hand is huge, wrapping around mine.

It’s not the first time he’s dwarfed me. But we don’t think about when he pulled me into his arms and made me feel like a schoolgirl with my first crush.

I’m not a particularly tall woman. And most of my co-stars aren’t too much taller. But Grant makes me feel . . . tiny. Protected.

And the way his fingers hold my hand, gentle and confident, makes something inside me quiver. A handshake has never shot sparks up my arm before, so I jerk back quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice just how fast. Cheeks burning as the memory of our last practice in his backyard flashes through my mind, I duck my head.

“So, what’s it going to be?” he asks.

Gladys is watching our exchange with wide eyes and no attempt to veil her interest.

“Spinach omelet, please. With pancakes.” Then, staring straight at Grant, I add, “Can you make that a double stack of pancakes? Large.”

With a giggle, Gladys writes it down. “Good luck, Red.”

Fifteen

Zoe

As I set up my laptop in my room on Monday morning, I trip over Bronco, who gives me the saddest, droopiest puppy dog eyes.

But he gets no sympathy from me. “Out.” I point at the door, but he doesn’t budge. “I told you I have an important call.” Heclearly doesn’t care. I don’t know why I had hoped he would. Selfish dog hasn’t cared about my needs since I moved in.

Nan is at a physical therapy appointment, and if I shut Bronco out of my room too early, he’s likely to howl on the other side of my door for my whole call. Not what I need when my stomach is already in knots.

Rubbing my stomach, I try to ease the pain that could be from nerves. Or from the fact that I didn’t eat breakfast. I just couldn’t manage a bite.

A problem that I think Grant has never had.

He sure had no issue putting away everything he ordered and most of what I did too on Saturday. The very memory makes me chuckle. Or maybe it was the way he groaned like he might never recover after pushing empty plates away from him. Well, they were mostly empty. Except for the last three bites of the pancakes I ordered.

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