Page 60 of Sidelined By Love

It’s hard not to enjoy the attention of these guys. So strong. So good at their jobs shoving other big guys around. So funny and kind too. Walking contradictions, each.

The rest of the group trail out of the den, footsteps surprisingly light.

“Who won?” I ask.

“Ja’maar,” Grant says, a teasing frown in place.

“It’s okay.” With a clap on his QB’s shoulder, Ja’maar shoots a glance in my direction. “You’re lucky in other ways.”

My cheeks immediately flame, the heat spreading down my neck. I know it’s only good-natured teasing, and normally, I’d spit out something witty in return. But not in front of Kenna, who’s given me permission tomarryher uncle. You know, if I want to.

“All right, guys. Time to go. We have practice in the morning.” With the same director voice, Grant looks at his niece. “And you have school tomorrow, young lady. Time for bed.”

Kenna groans and the guys grumble, but each of them follows orders. And I push myself up to join them heading out the door. But Grant catches my wrist in his long fingers and tugs gently as he leans into my ear. “Not you. We have things to discuss.”

My whole body shivers. Maybe from the warmth of his breath on my neck. Or the squeeze of his hand against my arm. Or the unspoken promise in his words. Because I know without a doubt that we are going to do more than talk.

After the guys leave, Kenna emerges from her room in her flannel pajamas and gives me and Grant each a quick hug. As she heads to her bedroom, I remind her, “Be confident tomorrow. You know the scene, and you’re going to do great!”

She beams, prancing down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Thank you for going over it again with her tonight.”

I can only nod at Grant. I doubt I was much help this evening. Not when I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“You want to sit out on the patio?”

“All right.”

Grant’s hand swallows mine as he leads us through the living room and dining room. As soon as he opens the backdoor, the crisp fall air wraps around me, and I shiver as Bronco trots outside and disappears into the space where the lights don’t shine. I should have brought a jacket. Or asked to borrow his oversized sweatshirt again. But I can’t find my tongue.

Instead, I stand in silence, huddling into myself, as he lights some kindling inside the round stone firepit on the edge of the patio. When the fire is going, it lets off a bit of heat and the rich scent of burning wood. With a hand on my lower back, Grant guides me toward one of the four lounge chairs circling the fire.

I move to sit in it, but he stops me, sliding into place first, a foot on either side of the long seat. Holding up a hand, he invites me to join him.

My bones have turned to jelly, and I’m not sure I can move the three feet between us. But the moment my fingers touch his hand, I cross the chasm and slip into the seat, settling with my back against his chest. He takes a deep breath, the warmth of his exhale draping over me. His arms and legs surround me. I’m home. And just like that, I melt into him.

“How’s that? Warm enough?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I have no idea how, but I can feel his smile.

We sit like this for a long while, just watching the yellow and red flames flicker. Warm. Comfortable. Content.

“So . . .” Grant begins as though he doesn’t know where he’s going.

“Hmm.” I play along like I don’t know where he’s going either.

With a squeeze and a chuckle that jostles my head, he continues. “About last night. That was nice.”

“Nice? You really are out of practice.” He immediately tickles my sides, and I dissolve in a fit of laughter. “Stop. No.”

“I’m the one out of practice? You tried to climb me like a logger.”

“I did not! I would never. I’m a lady.”

His fingers keep torturing my sides, equal parts agony and joy.

---