Page 39 of Broken Play
"You can't. People will talk. They probably already are."
"I don't care. You're in no condition to drive. Drive to the diner around the corner from the stadium, and I'll pick you up there."
She doesn't agree, but she runs her hand over mine, then promptly curls it under her chin and sleeps. She's not ready to talk, and I need to earn her trust, so I do the only thing I know—keep everyone away from her.
TWENTY
SUTTON
As I pull up in front of the diner, I debate for the umpteenth time whether I should just drive home alone. I'm a woman who has always needed nurturing, but it was never given to me. Growing up at the tennis academy took away just as much as it gave. I don't blame my parents; I wanted it, and tennis has given me so much.
Is it wrong to want Greyson to wrap me in his arms and tell me everything will be okay?
Yes, it's most certainly wrong. I'm his boss, and neither of us has room to be compromised. I'm being judged by every single owner, fan, and analyst in any sport simply because I'm a woman. But in all fairness, if a male general manager was caught with his subordinate, he would be blacklisted for sexual harassment or something of that nature.
All I can think about is what Greyson must have done. He must not have wasted a second when he saw Bodhi shoving me. All I know for sure is that he came straight for Bodhi to protect me. And although I'm embarrassed that ithappened in front of a stadium full of eighty thousand people, it showed me that Bodhi hadn't changed.
Greyson's truck rumbles up beside me, shielding my car from public view. It's late, and I'm sure the guys went straight home, but he still feels the need to protect my honor. He hops out and jogs around to me.
"You came," he says, his voice laced with disbelief.
"I don't want to be alone." The words slip out of my mouth before I can stuff them back inside. I need to be held, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
He leans into my car, grabs my tote, and tucks it onto the passenger seat of his truck. Greyson's big hand rests warmly on my back, steady and sure, as he waits for me to climb in.
As he heads out onto the empty road, he says, "I've been thinking, and I'm taking you to my house. The tennis academy will be full of reporters since you and... since you both are well-known tennis players. No one knows where I live."
When I open my mouth to protest, he reaches for my hand and says, "I won't take no for an answer."
Silence. Farmland. Armadillos.
As we roll up his driveway, I let out a quiet chuckle, barely more than a breath, but Greyson catches it.
"What?"
"I think it's the first time I've ever seen a real armadillo."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I'm used to being in bed by nine or so, and I only venture to the country when invited by J.D. or you."
"You remind me of an armadillo. Fitting." He half-laughs as he comes to a stop, flies around the truck before I have a chance to get out, and opens my door. I guess chivalry isn't dead, but likening me to an armadillo isn't smooth.
When we get inside, I decide to pretend nothing happened at the stadium and bury it under my veil of professionalism, the same way I did with every fight with Bodhi. But when we stand in the kitchen, the same place where we shared the best kiss of my life, my heart stutters. I can't shake the feeling that tonight could change everything, and I'm terrified. Coming here, to his house, breaks every rule, and I'm a rule follower. But Greyson proved tonight that he acts on instinct, and I don't know whether he's interested in me for the long haul or if he has a savior complex.
Greyson's voice filters in from the living room, coaxing me with his soft, low tone. "Come in here."
"Sorry, I must have zoned out thinking about how you compared me to an armadillo."
He pulls my hand and eases me onto the couch beside him. He's turned on the fireplace, and the light flickers yellow and orange, casting shadows around the room.
"All I meant was that you roll up inside this hard outer shell that you think shields you from danger, yet it doesn't. A few weeks ago, when we kissed, you told me you weren't over Bodhi." He gently swipes my hair from my face. "I guess I don't understand how you could still love him. I need to know what he did to you. Not just tonight, but..."
I rub my thumb over his. "That's not what I said."
"Right. You didn't deny that you weren't over him, and you bolted like Batman when Commissioner Gordon flashes the Bat-Signal."
A smile tugs at my lips. "You're a Batman lover too?"
