Page 13 of What Are The Odds?
“Oh.” Her hand stilled, the point of the knife sinking into the chopping board. “We can do this another time then.”
Not a chance in hell. This was a win in my eyes. An evening with Grace without Ryker around. I could have this bet locked in within the next hour. Ryker had missed the fact Grace hadn’t noted the time difference. He clearly didn’t realise she was already here. If he did, he sure as heck wouldn’t have just bailed. His mistake. Shrugging, I slipped my phone back, hoping I conveyed the right amount of casualness.
“You’re already here. Seems pointless not to make the most of it.”
I moved beside Grace, leaning on the bench whilst she added the remaining ingredients to the blender. I’ll admit, whatever she was making smelt fucking delicious. The kind of drink you’d sip poolside. Here’s hoping Tripp would accept this as replacement for ice cream. Speak of the devil. Footsteps thundered on the stairs and a moment later he appeared in the kitchen.
“Why the hell is the blender–”
The sight of Grace side tracked him. In a split-second he transitioned from a pain in the ass who’d been complaining all day about how sore he was, to perky as all hell. He rested his elbows on the bench, amused eyes focussing on Grace.
“Who have we got here?”
“Grace, this is Tripp O’Connor,” I introduced.
“And Grace is?”
He let the question hover. Grace filled in the gap.
“Here to work on a group assignment. And make you a smoothie apparently.”
She flipped the top off the blender then poured the contents into a glass. After sliding it to Tripp, she drummed her fingers on the island.
“Give it a whirl.”
She patiently watched Tripp as he brought the glass to his lips and sipped. He let out an appreciative groan, one I’d heard coming through our shared bedroom wall before.
“Best smoothie I’ve ever had.”
That seemed like an exaggeration the flirt. I stole the glass from him and took a sip. Well, fuck me. He wasn’t lying. This smoothie was fucking delicious. Now I wish I’d paid more attention to the ingredients. The smoothies our dietician gave us never tasted this good. If they did, maybe I’d actually heed his advice and work a few more into my diet.
“Should we start this game?” Grace suggested.
Tripp’s ears perked. “Game?”
“Australian football,” I explained. “It’s part of our assignment.”
Tripp whistled. “Some assignment.”
Tripp followed us into the living room. Now Grace was here, I doubt I’d be able to shake him. Grace craned her head to look up at the TV.
“Wow. That’s big.”
Smirking, Tripp reached for the remote. “We like big things in this house.”
Grace laughed. Though it was certainly at him, not with him. She sat on the couch.
“What’s your WiFi password?” she asked.
“Youwontguessthis69,” Tripp answered. He winked at Grace. “Case sensitive.”
All the WiFi names loaded onto her phone screen. There were the standard ones that came with your modem, followed by ours. She didn’t even need to ask.
“Pussy Palace I’m guessing.”
It hadn’t seemed funny at the time when Ryan set it up, and it was especiallynotfunny right now.
“Why is your phone on airplane mode?” I asked, deflecting.
