Page 17 of Kiss the Girl
She glanced toward the kitchen. “Not sure why we need brownies when we haven’t finished the snacks we already have.”
“How else was Brooke going to throw us together? I guess she could have said she needed to go bake a squash or weed the garden at ten o’clock at night, but we might have gotten suspicious.”
“So how do we stop her?”
I shrugged. “Boycott game nights?”
She shook her head. “Not unless you want to. Tonight was fun.”
“I agree. So then what?”
She studied me over the rim of her wineglass. “A friendship pact.”
“A friendship pact?” I made a face like,Yikes. “Last time I made a pact with a friend, we spit in our hands and shook. And before you said your no-dating thing, I had a different idea for swapping spit.” She blushed slightly and blinked at me, the tiniest bit wine-muddled, I was guessing. “I’m fine with that being off the table, but I’m not doing the other spit thing either. The word pact makes me nervous.”
Grace set her glass down and slapped her thighs. “All right, so it’s blood then.”
“Uh…”
“Or maybe just a handshake without spit?”
“Deal,” I said, holding mine out. She took it. Her hand was warm and small with light calluses on the palm. I tried not to notice how good hers felt in mine.
“Deal,” she said as Brooke walked back out.
Her eyebrow went up, and she gave us a pleased smile. “Holding hands already? I knew you were a good fit.”
Grace rolled her eyes and slid her hand from mine. “Do you not know what a handshake looks like? We made a deal not to get trapped in any more of your matchmaking.”
“So no more game nights?” Brooke asked, her face falling.
“Yes to game nights,” I said. “And maybe we can switch it up with movie nights sometimes. I make killer stovetop popcorn. But I only do that for myfriends.”
“All right, all right,” Brooke said. “I just came out to tell you that the brownies are taking longer than I expected, so I’ll be a few more minutes.” Then she was off to the kitchen.
Grace shook her head. “Unless she’s back there growing the cacao beans herself, I think this is still more matchmaking.”
“Why do we put up with her?” I asked.
“I ask myself that every day.”
“Because you love me,” Brooke said, returning. “Now save your smack talk for the game. It’s time for me to prove I’m the Scrabble master once and for all.”
I won but only because Grace had a J left on her tray and it counted against her.
“You’re supposed to let me win because it’s my house,” Brooke informed us.
“Uh, you’re playing with two former athletes,” Grace said. “We always play to win. You’re out of luck, so you’re going to have to depend on skill, which means you’restillout of luck.”
“Nice.” I high-fived her. “But how did you know I was an athlete?”
“You’re built like one.” And then, as if embarrassed she’d commented on my body, she fish-mouthed a couple of times. Slightly buzzed Grace was cute. “Plus, you’re a coach. Aren’t coaches always former athletes?”
“That wasn’t agrace-ful recovery, but I’ll allow it,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed and a throw pillow sailed toward me. Tossing pillows at me like Paige? Yeah, I’d been friend-zoned. And that was for the best. I admired her drive, but it was taking her the opposite direction of my own obligations.
“What was your sport?” I asked.
