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“If we’re not too tired when we get home, we’d love to help,” Rachel says.
They’ll be too tired, but it’s fine. What they just told me is that Grayson will be home alone tomorrow, which means he can help me.
You know, in between sex and stolen kisses. Oh, and he can help me with my orgasms.
“How was practice?” I ask Grayson.
“Day three was tough, but I’ve got this.”
“Yeah, you do,” I say, and I hold my hand up for an awkward high five.
He chuckles and slaps my hand, and I nearly grab his in the process before I remember that as far as anyone here is concerned, we’re just faking. We’re nothing more than friends.
This is going to be a tough four days.
“How was Coach Turner today?” I ask. While he really likes the defensive coordinator, Andy Glen, he mentioned that his position coach, Jordy Turner, hasn’t given him the warm fuzzies just yet.
“Tougher on me than on Pat again,” he admits, and Beckett looks between us with a crinkled brow.
“You two talk about that stuff?” he asks.
“You know this guy,” I say, rolling my eyes as I jerk my thumb in his direction as I try to cover for my blunder. “Once he gets started, he never stops talking.”
“Yeah, she’s attended some events with me where she caught us talking about Turner. He’s not been overly welcoming to me so far, but I’ll win him over,” Grayson says, ignoring my jab.
The boys chat about Grayson’s new team while Rachel helps me unpack my box and my bag filled with supplies and ingredients for the desserts I’ll be making.
I’m keeping it simple and delicious with mini fruit tarts, cake pops, truffles, and petit fours. I’ve spent the last week working on prep. I’ve already made the shortbread crusts for the fruit tarts along with the truffles, which are currently stored in the refrigerator in Grayson’s garage.
I still need to make the cake pops, the filling for my tarts, and the petit fours. Erin, the woman who runs the Aces charities, told me the final count for the ball is just under twelve hundred people. With an estimate of three desserts per person, well…it’s a lot of desserts for little old me to undertake, which is why I have tomorrow and Saturday off from the bakery. I’ll spend all day tomorrow baking and dipping, and I’ll put the final touches on my desserts Saturday before I deliver them to the banquet facility.
And then I’ll have to get ready for my date since I’m attending this who’s who of Vegas event on the arm of the newest, hottest teammate of the Aces.
I stay and chat with my brother and sister-in-law, and they call it a night pretty early since they traveled halfway across the country today. I do a little more prep work in the kitchen, and Grayson asks if he can help.
I tell him to sit since I know he’s suffering after minicamp the last three days, and he watches me work while I ask him questions about camp as I prep so I’m ready to go tomorrow.
It’s as I’m wrapping things up and getting ready to leave that he stands and walks over toward me. I turn to face him, and he backs me up until my ass hits the counter. He leans forward, placing his palms on the counter behind me, and my breath hitches when he’s so close to me.
He drops his lips to my neck. “I miss you,” he groans.
“I miss you, too,” I whisper.
His lips move to mine, and it’s a short kiss that’s far too brief.
“I think we should tell him,” I say softly when he leans his forehead down to mine.
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
He sighs and pulls back. “He’s got his own shit going on, and the time isn’t right.”
I narrow my eyes. “His own shit?”
He presses his lips together and takes a step back, and I don’t like that he’s putting physical distance between us when we already have physical distance between us.
I grip his biceps and pull him back into my orbit. “What’s going on?”
