Chapter 17
Grace
Iover-reacted. I know I did.
Objectively, I know Johnson didn’t mean his words as a slight.
But they still felt that way. Dismissive of our connection, of our conversation at his house less than a month ago.
Calling his behavior “all over the place”—like his suggestion that after the season he might want to explore something was part of a frenetic whim. That his words at his house didn’t carry meaning.
Stop overthinking, Grace. But the instructions to myself come too late, because he hurt my feelings, and I already ran away.
I try to move past the moment, walking off towards a table of Waves front office staff. A couple of the ladies give me hugs of congratulations for the successful event, including Molly, who I’d replaced as coordinator of the auction.
“You did so well, Grace. I know we can get Lara to give you a letter of recommendation if that would help with anything.”
“Thank you, that would be amazing.” The praise helps brighten my mood.
I bump into Professor Carry as well, who shakes my hand as soon as she sees it’s me. “Great job tonight, Grace. I look forward to the report.”
Phew. Mission accomplished. I’m so relieved to have gotten through this class after all.
Shortly afterwards, Susie comes over and introduces me to her husband, who leaves to grab us drinks.
“It’s the least he can do, he knows you made my life a million times easier these last few weeks,” she says.
While we’re chatting, I notice a younger guy weaving his way toward us. He has light brown hair and looks to be in his mid-twenties. As he approaches, I see he’s also good-looking, if a little finance-bro-ish.
“Oh, Patrick, let me introduce you to Grace. Grace, this is my nephew. He lives in Atlanta but is down here through next month for a work project.”
He gives me a big smile. “Hi Grace, you did a fantastic job today during the auction. The beauty to Roderick’s joker.”
His comment throws me off a smidge—like hello, I’m not sure that’s a compliment to either of us? But I stay in polite mode, and nod back.
“Didn’t she, though?” Susie says. “Patrick doesn’t know many people in the area, Grace. Maybe you could meet up one day and show him around.”
Patrick answers before I can. “That would be great. Give me a tour of the hotspots where all the single ladies go.”
Ugh. So far, Patrick isn’t exactly winning me over. I don’t know how to decline in a nice way, so I stay quiet instead. Susie’s husband luckily shows up with drinks then, breaking the line of conversation. After a minute, I make my apologies and step into a different group.
A couple of hours later, the night seems to be winding down. As the attendees thin out, I notice Johnson amid the crowd a little more often. He’s keeping company with some of the VIP guests, who we’re still collecting checks from, as well as taking breaks for fun with his teammates.
I turn away when I catch myself staring.
In the meantime, Landon seems to have jetted off with Rori. I haven’t seen him since I left them for their Meet & Greet. Hopefully that is a good sign.
After another thirty minutes, the band has stopped for the night and the hotel event planner comes up to me.
“Grace, we’re going to start breaking down the tables and chairs as soon as everyone leaves.”
There’s maybe three dozen people left, but it’s mainly Waves staff, players, and their guests, so Molly volunteers to get everyone to head out the door. I appreciate it since I don’t know everyone well enough to play the stern card.
Finally, it’s time to call it a night, and I stuff a bunch of papers detailing the bid winners into my oversized purse. Several of us spill out into the parking lot at the same time, walking to our cars.
“Grace, Grace,” says a male voice from behind me, sounding slightly out of breath.
I turn and—oh no—it’s Patrick.
“Is that your car? Let me drive you home.”
Um, this is not good. He may be Susie’s nephew, he may even be really nice for all I know, but I don’t want this strange guy to drive me home.
Shoot, how am I going to politely say no?
“No need, I got her,” says a second male voice.
Up into the beams of the parking lot light steps Johnson. Looking brutally handsome with his formal shirt unbuttoned and holding his suit jacket in one hand.
“Oh shit, you’re Johnson Samuels,” Patrick spouts with awe.
“Yes, and I’ve got her,” he repeats.
“No problem, man. I can’t wait to see the Waves play. My Aunt Susie has season—“
“If you’re family to Susie, I’m more than happy to chat another time. But right now, it’s late, and I’m getting Grace home.” Patrick shuts his mouth and nods.
Johnson turns his attention to me, looking as intense as I’ve ever seen him. “Keys, Little Battle?”
Patrick is still watching, so I don’t feel in a position to protest Johnson’s command. I hand him the keys, and when he unlocks the car door, I sit compliantly in the passenger seat.
As he slips into the driver’s seat, I don’t miss what he quietly says to himself.
“Not that guy.”
We drive in silence for the first few minutes. It’s after midnight, and the trip to my condo will take over forty minutes.
By the end of the event, the sting from Johnson’s earlier words had already faded to almost nothing, all the compliments and enthusiastic discussions from the rest of the evening helping me forget what happened during our dance.
And now, any lingering hurt has been fully replaced by confusion over what exactly is going on here.
Finally, I decide to break the silence.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I kinda did. Did you really want that guy to drive you home in the middle of the night?”
Well, when he puts it that way. “No, you’re right.”
He grunts in acknowledgement.
“Plus, you don’t like to drive in the dark.”
Oh, he remembered that?
I think of another question. “What about your car?”
“I’ll Uber back to get mine. No biggie.” He has an answer for everything, I guess. “Can you put your address in the GPS?” He hands me his phone.
We’ve just hit the highway, and he’s on the right track, but he’ll need directions to get me to my place.
Once we’re settled on our route, I see him relax a bit in his seat.
But then his next words make me tense up.
“So, are you going to tell me what I said wrong? Why you stopped our dance?”
Ugh, he went there. And I’m captive in this car, so I have to say something.
I’m silent for a beat too long, and he fills the quiet. “Grace, the last thing I want to do is upset you. Tell me what I did so I can avoid doing it in the future.”
“Well…” I pick at the lace on my skirt, needing to fiddle with something. “It felt like you were being dismissive of what happened between us. Like you were flaking out on what you said at your house that morning. And I got my feelings hurt, that’s all. I’m fine now. Over it.”
“Wait. That upset you…” He twists his head towards me. “Because you think I wasn’t being serious when we talked at my house?”
“I guess…I thought you were interested in trying to see if we could date or whatever after the season’s done. But maybe I heard that wrong.” I say the last part in almost a whisper.
Everything about this is torture for me. Exposing myself emotionally, speaking into my hurt.
But then he puts his right hand on top of my left one, his warm palm pausing the rise of my anxiety.
“You didn’t, Grace. If anything, I don’t want to get my own hopes up.”
His hopes up? Oh.
“For all I know, you’ll be in a serious relationship by then.” He turns his head to look at me, and then swings back to watching the road. “I’m sorry about what I said when we were dancing. That’s definitely not what I meant.”
He keeps his hand on mine and looks at me again. This time my eyes meet his, and it’s like he’s opened up a window to all of his emotions, honest and raw.
The look cuts through all of my remaining insecurities. Johnson trusts me. The connection I’ve been feeling—it’s not one-sided.
He shifts his head again so he can navigate the car, and as I hear the GPS instructions, I know we’re getting close to my building. Once we’re near enough that he has to make some quicker turns, he pulls his hand off mine and puts it back on the steering wheel.
We stay silent, but I don’t mind. Because now I have plenty to think about.
When we reach my building’s street, he heads into the parking garage.
“Is there assigned parking?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just grab a spot.”
As he brings the car to a stop, I see him grab his phone. “Let me call an Uber now, in case there’s a wait.” He fiddles with the phone. “A car is only eight minutes away if I pay the priority fee, perfect.” He clicks on that option.
Should I invite him in? Or maybe wait in our building lobby with him?
Our eyes meet again, and there’s that vulnerability in his, but also something more too.
“I’m sorry our dance got cut short because of what I said.” His voice is gruff.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“I’ll make up for it another night. Give you the dance you deserve.”
The air is still in the car now that the engine is off. He raises his right hand, then hesitates mid-air. “You looked so beautiful tonight, Grace.”
I look down at my lap. “Thank you.”
He must resolve his internal struggle, because I feel his hand on the back of my head as he slowly strokes the length of my hair.
I turn my gaze to him again. His deep brown eyes are so rich with emotion—and this time, hunger.
We stare at each other, and I can’t help it. My head moves an inch closer to his.
His head moves an inch closer in return.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding with a sigh, my body feeling like a live wire.
“Grace,” he says softly.
Another inch by me.
Another by him.
And then the space between us…
Closes…
Down…
To nothing.
Our mouths crash together, and I feel a bundle of sensations at once—the softness of his lips, the press of his tongue, the gentle friction of his beard.
Finally, my mind screams at me.
And I can’t help it. I let out a whimper. I need more.
“That sound, fuck.” His voice is hoarse.
Then he fully untethers himself, his warm mouth moving more decisively on mine.
I match the uptick in passion. This isn’t the same as our college encounter, when I was inexperienced even at kissing. Just as he is exploring with his tongue and stamping me with his desire, I’m actively claiming his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs as he feels my movements.
His hands slide under my hair to cup the back of my head, and I brace myself against the chair.
The kiss deepens once again, but somehow becomes gentler. His lips savor mine, his tongue slowly exploring, and even the texture of his beard rubbing against me is a comfort.
It feels like there’s so much we’re sharing with this kiss. It’s weighted with something deeper than desire.
Just then, his phone vibrates, interrupting us. The Uber.
He pauses his movements, but holds me steady, our lips still touching. Everything else still touching.
“I don’t want to go. But I should.” The words come out while his lips are still pressed against mine.
I whimper again slightly at the thought of us stopping. “You…you don’t have to.”
He sighs and finally pulls back slightly. “Grace. Grace, if I go up there…I should go. But this isn’t over.”
I can’t help but ask for confirmation, my eyes peering into his. “It isn’t?”
The ends of his mouth turn up slightly, his voice certain. “No. It’s not.”
He drops his hands, and I take a second to absorb my new reality—he’s not touching me, but I can still feel his imprint on my lips.
His phone beeps again, and he looks at it with frustration before turning back up to face me. “Can we talk after I get through our first game on Sunday? Maybe Monday or Tuesday?”
I nod, coming out of my haze. We’re still in my car, and I need to get into my building and my condo. “Okay. Yes.”
He opens his door and begins to get out. I mirror his motion and stand by the car while I watch him lock it with the key fob.
He gestures towards the garage entrance to the building and we start walking that way. When we’re almost at the door, he hands me the car keys.
But he doesn’t just drop the keys into my hand. Instead, he rests his hand lightly on mine again, the keys in between them, and takes a step closer to me.
“This isn’t done, Grace. I’m going to figure it out.” He shakes his head like he needs to correct himself. “We’re going to figure it out.”
And with a parting kiss to my forehead, he heads out into the night.
As I make my way to my apartment, I really want us to figure it out too.
Whether my brother likes it or not.