Getting the Grinder (Love on the Line #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Leo

“All I’m saying is it would’ve been nice to know the only titties I’d see at this bachelor party are Isaac’s,” my teammate Lucien says as he cracks open a can of beer.

Isaac grins at us from the kitchen of the sprawling Breckenridge cabin we rented for Bash’s last hurrah as a single dude. The main level of the cabin is wide open, the mountain view through the wall of windows in the main living area obstructed this afternoon by a blizzard.

“Wanna motorboat ’em?” Isaac, wearing only a pair of shorts, puckers his lips and circles his nipples with the pads of his index fingers.

“Pass,” Lucien mutters.

Some of the guys have been sitting in the hot tub. When Carter walks into the living area, his hair is damp and a cigar is tucked behind one of his ears. “It’s poker time, boys. I’ll accept IOUs.”

He cleaned all of us out last night, wisely drinking water while the rest of us got loaded.

I’m nursing a hell of a hangover today and only drinking water.

We have a rare eight-day break in December, and we’re spending the first three nights of it on this getaway.

After we fly back home the day after tomorrow, I’m pig sitting Carter’s family pet, Darling, while he and his wife, Suki, take their girls to Fiji for the rest of the break.

“Let’s do whatever Bash wants,” Andrei, another of my teammates, says. “It’s his bachelor party.”

“It’s not like there are many options,” Carter says gruffly. “We’re trapped here because of the storm.”

Bash comes into the room, a beer in hand. “The plan was to stay here anyway. I don’t want to go barhopping. I just want time with you guys.”

I still can’t believe Bash is getting married in June.

With our schedules, this was the best time for a bachelor party.

His fiancée, Lainey, is having a low-key get-together with her friends at their house.

They’re probably baking or something. She didn’t want to get shit-faced in Vegas or anything like that.

“Are we gonna get snowed in?” our newest teammate, Anson, asks from the kitchen. “It’s not letting up out there.”

“Our rentals have four-wheel drive,” Bash says. “We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not missing Fiji,” Carter says. “I’ll walk to the airport if I have to.”

Anson comes into the living area and sits down on the big leather sectional, where I’m sitting with Lucien. He looks at me and grins.

“My sister hearted all the pics I sent of you. I’m sure they’re all in her spank bank now.”

I smile weakly because fuck is it awkward when he tells me his twin sister has a thing for me. He took pictures of me in the hot tub last night and said he was going to send them to her. Even though lots of people have seen me shirtless, both in person and online, it felt weird.

“Ugh.” Isaac cringes. “I don’t want to know who does it for my sister.”

“Addison’s been going on about Leo Abbott for years,” Anson says. “She about had a coronary when I told her I was getting traded to Cleveland.”

Carter catches my wide-eyed look of discomfort and tries to pivot the conversation.

“Who’s in for poker?” he asks. “I’ve got more cigars and a bottle of Macallan.”

“I’m fucking hungry,” Andrei says. “Can we make something to eat first?”

“Hey Leo, have I told you what a great cook Addison is?”

Anson’s question makes me tense up. He’s my teammate and I don’t want to offend him, but he’s a hairy motherfucker with massive shoulders and a unibrow, and unfortunately, his sister looks exactly like him.

Not that it even matters. I’d never date a teammate’s sister, because it would create problems.

“I’m not looking for anyone to cook for me,” I say, shrugging. “No offense to anyone who wants to settle down, but I’m not there yet.”

“Wait ’til you try Addison’s meatballs. You’ll break out a ring.”

“I thought she wanted to try his meatballs,” Bash quips.

I flash a murderous glare at him. He and Carter are my closest friends; they know how uncomfortable I am about Anson’s attempts to set me up with his sister.

“Hey Leo, want to help me make tacos?” Carter asks.

“Yeah, sure.”

Relief washes over me as I get up and head for the kitchen. Anson’s sister has never even met me. I’ve tried to put Anson off from setting us up on a date every way I can think of, but nothing has worked.

“We’ve still got lots of toppings left from last night,” I tell Carter as I scan the contents of the massive refrigerator, one of two in the twelve-bedroom cabin. “We can use the onions and peppers and olives.”

Last night was our first night here, and we made homemade pizzas.

Carter had groceries delivered to the cabin before we got here, and we had every possible pizza topping imaginable.

Even grilled chicken, bacon and pineapple.

The pineapple caused an argument over whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

I’m not a fan of it, but I don’t care if other people like it.

I couldn’t believe how worked up Isaac got about it not belonging on pizza.

Bash’s friend and future brother-in-law, Eric, is here with us, and he probably thinks we’re a bunch of idiots after that showdown. He’s sleeping now because he’s not used to drinking like we did last night.

Carter and I are working in comfortable silence, him cooking ground beef and me heating up chicken, when Anson approaches, taking a picture of me.

“Addison’s gonna flip when she finds out you can cook, too,” he says.

“Enough, man,” Carter says. “This is a bachelor party, not an episode of The Bachelor .”

“Yeah, I know.” Anson puts his phone in his pocket, smiling. “You guys need some help?”

“You can cut these up.” I pass him several avocados, a cutting board and a knife.

I’m about to return to heating up the grilled chicken when I hear a scratch against the door that leads from an outdoor deck into the kitchen.

“It’s that damned raccoon again,” I say, picking up a towel and wiping my hands off. “I’m gonna wrestle that bastard if he got in the trash again.”

Carter furrows his brow. “There’s a fucking blizzard outside. He should be keeping warm somewhere.”

I open the door, ready to take on a pissed-off trash panda, but when I look down, I find a shivering brown dog, her fur soaking wet.

“Oh, hey there.” I squat down to pet her. “It’s too cold out here for you.”

Her dark eyes lock onto mine and my heart twists. Somehow I know it’s a her, and she looks like she’s walking a line between life and death. I think she’s a golden retriever mix, and she’s way too skinny.

“You’re okay,” I assure her. “Come on in.”

She takes a few steps, glancing back outside. Then she sits down, still shivering.

Andrei brings a blanket and I wrap it around her. She won’t move from her spot just inside the door, so I make a plate of cut-up chicken and bring it to her.

She scarfs the food, barely even chewing it. Anger rises in my chest as I wonder if this dog was someone’s pet. Did they abandon her? She could easily have died out in this weather.

“Come on in.” I try coaxing her with head and back pets, but she won’t move.

When I bring her water, she drinks some, still looking out at the deck. We need to close the door to stop letting the icy wind in the house, so I slide my arms beneath her and pick her up.

She cries softly as I carry her over to the couch, where the guys have made a little blanket nest. Bash is starting a fire in the fireplace.

When I set her down and pull the wet blanket from her back, Bash says, “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

He gestures at her belly, and my stomach sinks. Her skin is hanging loose and her nipples are enlarged.

“She’s got puppies.” I shake my head. “That’s why she kept looking outside.”

All the guys are gathered around now. Carter’s our team captain, and he usually takes the lead on things, but I don’t wait for him to say something.

“Everybody, get your coats and shoes on. We’re going to find her pups.”

Someone sighs heavily. “It’s a fucking whiteout, man. We won’t be able to see anything.”

I look up, seeing my teammate Silas. He must’ve been in the hot tub, because his hair is wet and he has a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Stay here and sit in the hot tub, then.” I glower at him. “I’m going.”

Everyone comes to find the puppies. The dog leads us to them, but it’s slow going in the storm. It takes us almost thirty minutes to get to the tiny pups, who are curled up beneath a giant pine tree. There are seven, but only six are still alive.

Several of the guys pick up little fur bundles and put them inside their coats for warmth, and I carry the mama dog back to the cabin. We fill a bathtub with blankets and put all the dogs inside it.

Anson and Andrei go out in search of a warming lamp and dog food. I sit next to the bathtub and watch the puppies nursing. The mama dog sleeps, probably exhausted.

“I sent the girls a picture,” Carter says from the doorway. “It’s been made very clear to me that I better not come home without one of those puppies.”

“Darling will love that.”

His pet pig, who was supposed to be a micro, is over four hundred pounds now. He’s a happy, hungry guy who snorts loudly and rubs his nose against people’s faces to show affection.

“So much for debauchery,” I quip.

“Suki, Lainey, and Mara are taking a knitting class. So they’re not getting too wild, either.”

“Maybe Mara will accidentally stab herself to death with a knitting needle.”

Suki’s best friend hates me, and the feeling is mutual. Mara is an overly opinionated, high-strung shrew. I get along with pretty much everyone but her.

“Suki said Mara wants to knit herself a bikini top.”

My mental image of Mara with a knitting needle buried in her chest is replaced by one of her in the shower, water trailing over her perfectly round tits.

I only saw them for a split second when I accidentally walked in on her taking a shower and cemented her hatred of me, but it was long enough to know they’re flawless.

Carter laughs, and I look up at him from my seat on the floor by the tub.

“What’s funny?”

“Should I leave you alone with your thoughts about the woman you supposedly hate in a skimpy bikini top?”

I scowl at him. “I was imagining her bleeding to death.”

“Sure you were.”

I scowl at him. “I admit she’s hot, but I’d rather fuck ... absolutely anyone else.”

Carter considers. “George Washington?”

“Like alive and in his prime, or his corpse?”

He barks out a laugh. “You saying you’d rather cornhole him in his prime than Mara?”

No. “Maybe.”

“You two have been at each other’s throats long enough. Make a peace offering.”

I scoff. “Yeah, right. I know she’s smart about lots of things, but she’s just not that deep, man. She’s all about her looks and being snarky and materialistic. Classic mean girl. I don’t want her to like me.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. You need help with the dogs?”

“No, I’m good. Close the door when you go. I don’t want Anson taking pictures of me.”

Once I’m alone in the bathroom, I stand up to stretch my legs. There’s a little cry from inside the tub and I check on the puppies. All of them are curled up around each other for warmth, most of them asleep.

I once did body shots of tequila off the navels of every woman on a college cheerleading squad. I was twenty-two, and it was a contest between me and a teammate to see who could do more shots. I won and then passed out on the bar floor. But I was up and at ’em again the next day.

I’ve never been the fastest player on the ice or the best shooter. But whatever team I’m on, I’m always the hardest worker. Up earlier than everyone else to get in an extra workout. Staying late at practice to keep running drills. It’s how I keep my place on the team.

My motto when I was younger was “work hard, play harder.” Now that I’m approaching thirty, though, I like my downtime. I read books and drink a lot less alcohol. And apparently, I hang out with puppies in bathrooms at bachelor parties while others are partying.

Works for me.