CHAPTER 7
GRAYDON
I lean back in my chair, staring out at the quiet coffee shop that’s close to my house. It’s not frequented by tourists or football fans, which makes it the perfect place for me to sit, grab a cup of coffee, and find some peace.
It also makes it the perfect place to have a meeting.
Not to mention, the chairs and booths accommodate my body size.
It’s just past six at night. Commuters are making their way back home outside, a few stumbling in for a cup of caffeine before they probably head off to their workout classes.
One of my favorite things to do is lurk in the shadows in the back, watching, hearing what people order, seeing what kind of twist they’re going to put on their coffee.
My phone, resting on the table in front of me, dings with a text message. Casually sipping my coffee, I lift up my phone to see a text from Hutton.
Hutton: Uh, did you see this article? [Link] Graydon St. John Owes Everything to His Father
Bristling with immediate anger, I click on the link and skim the article, letting my eyes linger on quotes from my dad telling the reporter how he’s the one who raised me into the man I am today.
How he’s the reason I’m succeeding on the field because of the countless hours he’s spent practicing with me.
He’s the reason I have such a level head on my shoulders.
And he’s the reason why I grew up in such a stable household…
He’s got to be fucking kidding me.
My phone dings with another text.
Hutton: You should ask for a retraction given that everything in that article is fiction.
Furiously I type out a response.
Graydon: The only thing that’s going to need retraction is my fist from his face.
Hutton: Probably not the best approach.
Graydon: He’s taking credit for everything I did to get to where I am.
Hutton: I know, man. I’m sorry, but I thought it would be best if you saw it before you were approached about his words.
I wipe my hand over my face and take a deep breath, attempting to calm my anger even though I know it won’t help, because this…this is overstepping. This is the kind of shit that pushes me over the edge.
This is what turns me into a goddamn beast, ready to sink my claws into the next victim that attempts to talk to me, because how the fuck dare he, after everything he’s put me through. After the neglect, the passing me off, the…the…
The door to the coffeehouse opens, and Gretchen walks in.
Fuck, she’s here.
I stuff my phone away and clench my teeth, keeping the anger pulsing through me at bay while I take her in.
She is wearing a pair of dangerously high high heels, a black pencil skirt, and a purple blouse tucked in at her waist, and her hair is curled, looking fresh like she just got it done, but I know that’s not the case because she works more hours than most. Somehow, she is just able to keep it looking like that.
Her tight expression is framed by her intense makeup, dark bronzer, and long lashes.
One look at her and you know she busts balls for a living.
The door opens again, and I catch Maple walking in, hands clasped together, looking around nervously with her teeth pulling on the corner of her mouth.
She is not in her zoo uniform, and my eyes trail up her short legs, which are encased in a pair of yoga pants that flare toward her ankles.
Looking at her side profile, my eyes land on her round, pert ass before trailing up to the tight white V-neck shirt that molds around her chest. Her hair is pulled back still, but instead of a tight ponytail, she’s let it hang loose in a clip in the back, a few tendrils of hair framing her face.
Jesus, she really is fucking beautiful.
This is going to make me sound like an ass, but given my status as an athlete, I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful women, many of them offering up whatever the hell I want. I’ve taken a few bites, but nothing has interested me…ever.
But there is something about Maple.
Something different.
Her features are soft while innocence radiates from her as she fidgets, looking nervous and unsure. But there is also a toughness to her, an underlying ability to stand up for herself or, better yet, the things she cares about.
And that’s attractive. So goddamn attractive that she catches my attention, a lot.
More than she should.
She catches my attention the minute I walk through those zoo gates and I find her attempting to plaster on a smile even though I know she can’t stand me. Even though…I make her cry.
Jesus Christ, seeing those watery eyes, it nearly broke me, though I maintained a calm, unfazed exterior. I don’t like upsetting her the way I did, but there is just something inside me, something that can’t stop my mouth from saying hurtful things, something that keeps my expression emotionless.
Hell, who am I kidding, I know exactly what that something is. It’s the shield I have raised whenever I interact with anyone. Given my past, those shields have been firmly set, never to be lifted so I won’t ever get hurt again.
Instead, I just hurt innocent people like Maple.
Maple, who…who…Well, it doesn’t matter because I don’t have any goddamn interest in starting anything romantic with anyone.
I fuck when I need to expel leftover adrenaline, but that’s about it.
And I’m not about to fuck around with Maple, despite how attracted I am to her.
She’s not someone you screw and leave cold in bed. She has relationship written all over her. She’s perfectly innocent and beautiful and doesn’t need an unruly asshole disrupting her life more than I already am.
I watch carefully as she accidentally bumps into Gretchen, apologizes, and then pauses as she recognizes her. They exchange pleasantries, Maple clearly trying to be kind while Gretchen is terse and all business.
Their personalities could not be more opposite…or their attire, for that matter.
They both order drinks, then continue to look around for me before Gretchen pulls out her phone and texts.
I glance down at my screen, looking at her message.
Gretchen: You here?
Graydon: Back left corner.
When she reads my response, she looks up at me. She rolls her eyes and points in my direction to Maple, who’s holding an iced tea.
I remain where I am as they approach.
“You could have said something,” Gretchen says as she takes a seat but does not get comfortable. No, she’s one high-heeled step away from ditching us, on to the next thing on her to-do list.
“Why are you in the shadows? That was creepy when you came into view.” Maple takes a seat, and a wave of lavender hits me all at once, her scent infiltrating my peaceful coffee aroma.
She must have taken a shower before meeting up with us because once again, she smells amazing. I don’t blame her—if I had to hang out with those birds all day, I’d do the same thing. Hell, I’m there for a few hours, and I feel the need to scrub myself raw.
“Don’t like to be recognized,” I answer as I lift my cup of coffee to my lips.
“Well, it’s weird.” Maple hangs her bag on the side of her chair and then crosses one leg over the other before taking a sip of her iced tea.
Gretchen looks between us, those cunning eyes attempting to understand the dynamic between me and Maple. She doesn’t need to think long and hard, as it’s clear we don’t get along.
Maple confirmed it after calling me an ass twice yesterday before she made me wash fucking flamingo water bowls again. I swear she did that just to piss me off.
“Let’s get to the point.” Gretchen sets her drink on the table. “You two want to start a social media profile together?”
“Her idea.” I nod at Maple, who glares at me.
She clears her throat and turns to Gretchen with a smile.
“Yes, it was. You see, the athlete I’ve been paired with dislikes the program he’s in, and therefore it’s made things rather difficult.
” Gretchen flashes me a disappointed glare, but I shrug it off, because really, at this point, I don’t give two shits.
“And I thought that maybe we could make the most of this plan by doing things a little differently than what was originally laid out.”
“So you don’t want him representing you at fundraising events and bringing awareness?”
“Oh no, that will still happen.”
I grumble under my breath while Maple continues, “But I was thinking that maybe it could be an even trade. Why not make the most of it by bringing more attention to both of our causes? We want to make the Foghorns seem more approachable and well-liked, and create more love for the flamingos, so why not do both simultaneously?” She takes a deep breath and says, “I thought we could make a social media account that can benefit both of us. It can show Graydon helping out at the zoo with little snippets here and there, and it can show me learning around the football field.”
Gretchen leans back in her chair, bringing her drink with her as she eyes Maple over the rim. “You want to learn about football?”
“I mean, not really. I couldn’t care less about the sport, but he couldn’t care less about flamingos, so I just thought it was an even trade.”
At least she’s honest.
Gretchen moves her jaw back and forth, mulling over the idea. When her eyes land on me, she says, “And you’re good with this?”
“If she’s going to torture me, might as well torture her.”
“Mature,” Maple says before sipping her drink.
“And who will be running the social media?”
“Me.” Maple raises her hand.
Disbelief in her expression, Gretchen runs her eyes over Maple. “You?”
“Yes.” She nods, not looking even the slightest bit confident. “I’m quite knowledgeable with the social media.”
“With the social media?” Gretchen questions.
“Yes.” Maple gulps, a telltale sign that she’s lying.
“Let me see your accounts.”