“I will,” Stevie promises, a sad smile on her face that Miller definitely doesn’t pick up on. “Nice meeting you, Grady.”
He turns his attention to me, and I swear my body hums from the way his eyes bore into mine. “I’ll see you soon, friend.”
“Goodbye, Miller.” This time, the eye roll I give him comes a little more reluctantly, but it doesn’t bother him either way. He just sends me that same charming smile before heading for his car, and I watch him walk away yet again.
Stevie watches too, only it’s not him she’s looking at. It’s me.
Her stare is burning a hole in the side of my head. I can practically hear the hundreds of questions she’s hurling my way without saying a word.
Unable to take it anymore, I finally say, “Just say whatever it is you’re going to say.”
“I was just going to say that I like him. He seems nice.”
I huff out a laugh, dragging my eyes away from Miller as he climbs into his fancy-pants sports car that probably costs more than I make in a year. “Don’t forget that he forgot who I was just three weeks ago.”
“I didn’t forget, but he seems determined to make up for it.”
“He’s trying too hard.”
“Or…” She stretches the word out. “He’s just a really nice person who made a mistake, and we shouldn’t judge him. You’re willing to give Carla all the room in the world to make mistake after mistake, but not Grady? Why is that?”
Because Carla can’t hurt me like Miller can.
I don’t say it out loud. I don’t have to. Stevie knows my reasons for keeping Miller at arm’s length.
“He could be good for you, Scout. He could get you out of this truck and out of the apartment. He could be a good inspiration for the novel you still haven’t finished.”
Or started. But I don’t tell her that.
The last time I touched the book I promised I’d write was three years ago, and that was to delete it. Every time I’ve sat down to write since then, the words won’t come, which really sucks for someone who wants so badly to be published.
I know the reason I can’t write. I know the reason my mind is all blocked. I’m lacking inspiration, lacking excitement.
I need both badly.
I’m just not so sure I’m ready, especially if it means that inspiration and excitement come in the form of Grady Miller.
He’s a hotshot hockey player, and I’m not sure I want to play his game.
5
MILLER
“Did you get my texts last night?”
I look up to find Greer standing over me while I’m holding a hundred and twenty-five pounds over my head. “I did.”
“And?” he presses, eyebrow raised.
At nearly midnight, my phone started blowing up with photos from Greer. They were all of women he thought I could get to be my date for the fundraiser. They were hot, I’ll give him that, but blind dates—especially from Greer—aren’t really my thing. If I’m going to be stuck at this damn function all night, I want to be stuck with someone I’m actually going to enjoy spending time with. Besides, I’m not in a huge rush. I still have time to find a date.
“And no,” I tell him, shoving the weights back up and setting the bar on the rack. I sit up, sucking in a much-needed breath of air. I reach for the towel that’s on the bench next to me and wipe my face down. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m like ninety percent sure I saw you making out with one of them at Slapshots last month, and I’m not really into dating my teammate’s seconds.”
“Your loss.” Greer shrugs. “She’s a great kisser.”
“Duly noted.”
“And I know she’d take care of your…issue for you.”
I know exactly what he’s referring to: my virginity.
“I’m good,” I tell him, trying not to get irritated. “And I thought we talked about how I don’t want or need your help.”
He shrugs, then taps my shoulder, wanting my spot. I get up and move to the front of the bench to spot him as he picks the bar up and lifts it off the rack. He shoves the bar up easily, going slow and doing measured reps.
“I have a few other options lined up if you need ’em.” He presses the weight away from his chest again. “And if all else fails, you can always take your mom. I know the new rookie is doing that.”
I inwardly groan at the idea of going to any sort of public event with my mother. Sure, my dad was hardest on me growing up when it came to hockey, but my mother was tough on me in other areas. Her favorite thing to do was chastise me for the smallest of mistakes any time we left the house. My shoes were too scuffed or my shirt wasn’t tucked in correctly or my hair was out of place. It wouldn’t matter if I spent an hour getting ready for dinner out at the local Dairy Queen—it was never enough.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to take her to the fundraiser.
“I’d rather ask Wright’s mother-in-law.”
“Hey! Leave her out of this, Miller! Swear to God, I will chop your dick off if I catch you flirting with her again!” Wright shouts from a few rows down as he pedals hard on the stationary bike.
I laugh, truly enjoying fucking with him. Don’t get me wrong, his mother-in-law is gorgeous, and I love flirting with her because it makes her feel good, but it’s all in good fun. Truth is, I just like spending time around her because she’s the kind of mother I wish I had—warm, thoughtful, and kind.
“There’s always Ryan’s grandma,” Lowell offers up. “You know Grams will take you up on that offer. I’m pretty sure she’s still swooning over your moves at Wright’s wedding.”
Rhodes is grumbling and throwing warning glances my way before Lowell even gets his whole sentence out.
Okay, so maybe I don’t have the best track record when it comes to flirting with the older women in my teammates’ lives. What can I say? It’s fun to mess with them. They make it entirely too easy.
“I’ll keep her in mind,” I say just to fuck with Rhodes, who smashes the off button on his treadmill, then marches out of the room in a grumpy huff.
Greer laughs as he sets the bar back on the rack and sits up. “You’re just asking to get your ass handed to you out on the ice. You know that, right?”
I shrug. “Eh. I can take him.”
“You can take Beast? Even I wouldn’t fuck with him.”
I lean down and not-so-quietly say, “Don’t let him fool you. He’s just a big ol’ softy underneath all that hard exterior.”
“I heard you, you little shit!” Rhodes yells from the adjoining room. “I’ll fucking show you softy,” he mutters, and I’d bet my left nut he’s scowling like crazy right now.
I laugh, then move over to the stationary bike next to Wright.
“You having trouble finding a date for the fundraiser? Mr. Casanova himself? Dry spell?”
Ha. If he only knew.
“Something like that,” I say just to get him off my back.
Wright chuckles. “I’d offer one of Harper’s friends, but, well, she’s a complete introvert, and her only friend is Ryan. I don’t think Rhodes would take too kindly to that.”