Chapter 29 Grant
Grant
Fuck.
From the look on Colin’s face, it’s pretty damn clear he’s putting two and two together about what Heather and I have been doing all weekend.
I take a quick step away from her, trying to put some distance between us, and she does the same. It’s a pointless gesture. We’re both barely dressed, her hair looks like she’s been through a windstorm, and I’m pretty sure there are visible scratches on my chest and shoulders from her nails.
But still. We try.
“Colin.” I clear my throat, doing my best to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I can see that.” His eyes dart between me and Heather, and he seems to be trying very hard not to stare at the hickeys on her neck.
“I’m sorry, I should have called first. I just thought—well, you’re usually working out downstairs by now on Sunday, so I figured I’d come by and take care of the house. ”
Right.
Because my normal routine would have filled the entire morning with working out and watching game footage rather than fucking Heather on every flat surface between here and the bedroom.
“Yeah, about that.” I glance over at Heather, scrambling for some kind of explanation that doesn’t sound completely ridiculous. “I, uh, took the morning off. I figured I could use a break from my usual routine.”
Colin’s eyebrows go up slightly, and I can tell he isn’t buying it. In all the time he’s been helping out around the house, I’ve never once deviated from my schedule. Not for holidays. Not for injuries. Not even when I’ve been sick.
“A break.” He nods as if he doesn’t know me a million times better than that. “Right. Of course.”
There’s a painfully awkward beat of silence where no one seems to know what to say.
Heather’s cheeks are flushed bright pink, and she’s studying a spot on the floor like it’s her job.
Colin is still standing in the doorway, clearly trying to figure out the most polite way to extract himself from this situation.
And I’m standing here like an idiot, shirtless and no doubt looking guilty as hell.
“The house is fine for now,” I say finally, determined to take control of the situation. “You don’t need to worry about cleaning today. Or probably tomorrow, either. How about Tuesday? Would that work for you?”
“Tuesday works just fine.” He’s already backing toward the foyer. “I’ll just let myself out. Sorry again for barging in like this.”
“Not a problem at all,” I offer, even though we both know it kind of is.
He starts to leave, then pauses and turns back to give Heather a sympathetic smile. “It was good to see you again, Heather. I hope you have a nice rest of your weekend.”
“You too, Colin,” she manages to say, although her voice is slightly higher than normal. “Thanks.”
He gives her a polite nod, then his eyes shift to me. There’s something in his expression—not judgment, exactly, but definitely an awareness. And more than a little amusement. A look that says he knows something big just happened here, even if he doesn’t know all the details.
“See you Tuesday, Grant,” he says, putting a slight emphasis on my name to let me know this conversation isn’t over. He’s going to have questions on Tuesday, and I’m probably going to have to answer at least some of them.
“Tuesday,” I confirm.
The front door closes a moment later, and all I can do is shake my head at the way I fumbled that entire conversation.
Heather immediately covers her face with both hands as her shoulders start to shake. I wonder if she’s crying for a second, but then I hear her laugh—half-mortified, half-hysterical.
“Oh my god,” she says through her fingers. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
I move closer to her and gently pull her hands away from her face, then pull her in for a hug.
“Do you think he could tell?” Her eyes are wide as she backs up just far enough to look up at me.
“I mean, he obviously knows something was going on, but do you think he could see all the…” She makes a vague gesture to encompass the whole kitchen.
“The place probably smells like sex. And I definitely look completely fucked.”
Hearing her say those words makes something hot and possessive take hold in my chest. Yeah, she does look completely fucked.
By me.
Her hair is a mess, her lips are swollen, there are hickeys and marks all over her neck, and she’s wearing nothing but my jersey.
Fuck, I love seeing her like this.
I pull her in close again so I can give her a kiss that turns out to be probably too deep and intense for the moment, but I can’t help myself.
“Yeah, you do,” I say, my own lips moving against hers. “You look thoroughly fucked, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She lets out a little whimper and kisses me back, sliding her hands from my chest to clasp them around my neck. My cock is already hard, more than ready to pick up where we left off.
But then she pulls back again, and I can see something shift as her expression becomes more serious.
“So,” she says quietly. “What now? Like, what happens next?”
After that kiss, my mind is still focused on one thing. “If we keep going like this, I’m gonna carry you upstairs and fuck you again.”
She lets out a surprised laugh that makes her look and sound so young and carefree, like the weight she usually carries has been lifted, at least for a few wonderful seconds.
But then her expression changes again, and I can see reality creeping back in.
“I’m not saying no to that idea, but that’s not what I meant.” She takes a breath and a half-step back, putting a little more space between us. “What are we going to do about other people? What are we going to say?”
I frown because I’m pretty sure I know what she’s getting at, but I still want to hear her say it out loud so I don’t misunderstand.
“What are we gonna say about what?”
“About us.” She gestures between the two of us. “About this. Do we tell people?”
“Oh.” I grin. “Right. I hadn’t thought about that yet.”
She bites her lip, and I can tell she’s working through something in her head. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t,” she says slowly. “If we don’t let people know. Besides whatever Colin already thinks, obviously.”
That catches me off guard. “You want to keep this a secret?”
“Not a secret, exactly.” She takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales.
“I just don’t want to confuse things for April.
She’s finally starting to settle in here, and if she finds out we’re together and then things don’t work out, that’s going to be hard on her.
And you’ve got your career to focus on. The team.
The playoffs. The last thing you need is a distraction. ”
I start to argue, to tell her she’s anything but a distraction, but she keeps going.
“Maybe it’s just easier if no one knows we’re hooking up. At least for now, until we figure out what this is and where it’s going.”
I don’t like it. The idea of keeping her hidden away like some kind of dirty secret sits wrong with me.
But I can see the logic in what she’s saying, especially when it comes to April.
The kid has been through enough upheaval in her life.
She doesn’t need to get attached to the idea of her mom and me being together only to have it fall apart if things don’t work out.
And then there’s the media attention. If they get a whiff of a story like this, they’ll be relentless.
I don’t give a shit about the extra attention on me—most of the reporters around here know it’ll be a cold day in hell before they get a quote out of me—but I don’t want to put Heather and April through that kind of hell.
So even though every instinct I have is jumping up and down and yelling at me to stake my claim and make sure the whole world knows she’s mine, I understand her concerns.
I pull her closer again and drop my voice low. We might have to keep things under wraps for now, but we can still have fun with it. “Is that what we’re doing? Hooking up?”
She flashes me a confident, flirtatious smile that sends a jolt of arousal right down to my cock.
“Yeah, I’m hooking up with a gorgeous, tatted-up goalie. And it’s amazing, in every single possible way.”
“As long as you keep using the present tense.” I slide my hands down her sides and slip them up under the jersey to rest them on her hips. “Then I’m good with that.”
She nods, still smiling like a fucking sex goddess. “Present tense. Got it.”
“Speaking of present tense,” I slide my hands down to her ass, palming both cheeks and squeezing. Hard. “Let’s take this party back upstairs.”
She melts against me and makes another of those noises that I’ve become addicted to hearing. But then she pulls back again reluctantly.
“I’m sorry. I need to get April.” She glances at the clock on the microwave. “God, what time is it? I told Margo I’d pick her up by one.”
I look at the clock too and realize that it’s already after twelve. “Shit. Okay.”
She steps out of my arms, and I already miss the warmth of her body. “I need to shower. And eat something for lunch that isn’t cold eggs. And do something to cover up all these hickeys.”
“Good luck with that last one.” All I can offer is a sheepish grin. “You might need a scarf.”
She groans and touches her neck self-consciously. “Damn. Margo is going to know.”
“Margo probably already knows. Your sister isn’t an idiot.”
“Great. That’s just great.” But she’s smiling as she says it.
I move to the fridge and start pulling out ingredients for sandwiches, since that’s something quick and easy that we can both have before she leaves. While I work, she disappears upstairs, and I can hear the shower turn on a few minutes later.
By the time she comes back down, cleaned up and dressed in her own clothes, I have two turkey and provolone sandwiches waiting on plates.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she says, sliding onto a barstool and immediately taking a bite. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
We eat quickly, with neither of us saying much. There’s a comfortable quiet between us now, but also an undercurrent of something else. Maybe an awareness that this weekend is ending and we’re about to go back to the real world.
A world where we’re keeping this, whatever this is, to ourselves.
When she finishes eating, she grabs her purse and keys, then hesitates near the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two. With April.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“So we should probably, um…” She gestures vaguely between us. “You know. Act normal.”
“Normal.” I grin, because I’m not sure anything has been normal between us. Ever. But this obviously isn’t the time to say that out loud. “Got it.”
She nibbles at her bottom lip. “This is weird, isn’t it? Pretending nothing has changed.”
“Yeah. A little weird. But I get it. We have to do it for all the reasons you brought up earlier, and then some.”
“Exactly.” She nods, seemingly reassured, then stands on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “You’re right. This is the right thing for us. For all of us. I’ll see you soon.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in my kitchen trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to go back to acting like she’s just my house guest and not the woman I can’t stop thinking about.