Heather
My mouth is definitely hanging open, but I don’t care. Grant Parker—the towering, always-grumpy goalie who seems like he would rather endure a root canal than make small-talk—has offered me and April a place to stay.
His place.
As in… living in Grant Parker’s house. Sitting across the table from him at dinnertime or sipping my morning coffee while he reads the paper or does push-ups or ab crunches or whatever professional hockey players do when they’re not knocking each other’s teeth out on the ice.
I haven’t shared a space with a man like that since I was married, and even though Grant seems to be the polar opposite of my ex, I’m not sure how I feel about moving in withanyoneon a moment’s notice.
“I… I…” I have to stop and let my brain catch up, because it’s in serious danger of short circuiting at the moment. “Grant, I can’t let you do that. I appreciate the offer more than I can say, but I can’t. Maybe if it was going to be a day or two. Even a week. But we could be talking about close to a month. Several months, in a worst case scenario.”
My cheeks are starting to flush, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. Lord, I must look like a deer caught in headlights. Am I making the wrong decision? Am I being foolish by turning down his offer?
Noah is looking back and forth between us like he’s watching a tennis match while Margo is giving me that expectant, hopeful expression she gets on her face whenever she thinks a problem has been perfectly solved and disposed of. If only this could be one of those custom-made, neatly-packaged solutions.
April tugs on my sleeve. “What’s going on, Mom? Are we going to live with Grant Parker? Because that would be?—”
“No, sweetheart.” I cut her off before she has a chance to start pouring on the excitement and the puppy dog eyes that never fail to sway me. “We’re in a bind here, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m going to get back on the phone with my boss and figure out some way to fix this. That’s really the only option.”
Grant shrugs like he’s just offered to help carry our groceries to the door, rather than completely turn his life upside down for two people he’s only met a handful of times. “It’s not that big of a deal, Heather. My place is way too big for just me anyway.”
“And Idoappreciate the offer. I can’t even tell you how much. But again, this could be more than just a short-term thing. It could be weeks at best, or it could drag out into months while the legal process plays out. There’s no telling how long that might take.”
Another shrug, and he dismisses all those very valid concerns without even blinking.
Again.
“It sounds like you really need a place to stay, though,” he says. “And you don’t have much time to figure something else out.” I can’t argue because he isn’t wrong. “So if you need somewhere to stay for a while and I have plenty of space for guests, doesn’t that solve your immediate problem?”
I should be firm and tell him no. I should stop even entertaining the idea, because I already know that it’s not going to work.
But do I actually know that? I know all the reasons it shouldn’t work. I know my gut—and yeah, maybe even a little bit of my pride, since I’m used to being the superhero single parent who also helps other women in need—is telling me how crazy it would be to accept Grant’s help.
But I guess the rational part of my brain is still too surprised or overwhelmed to put up a good fight, because even when I open my mouth to say no, I can’t come up with a good reason to reject the offer outright.
“Please, Mom?” April tugs at me again. “Please, please, please? Can you imagine how popular I’ll be at my new school if my roommate is the goalie for the Aces?”
I frown. “That’s not how we make important decisions, sweetie. Especially housing decisions.” I turn back to Grant. “I’m sorry. This just feels like it’s too much. Like I’d be taking advantage of your kindness.”
“How is it taking advantage if I’m the one offering?”
“Because you’re being nice, and I’m in a desperate situation, and?—”
“And you think I’m the kind of guy who makes offers but doesn’t follow through?”
His tone isn’t confrontational, but I can tell he isn’t going to let me off the hook without a good reason.
Damn it.
I open my mouth to say something, then close it again as I try to read his expression. “No. No, I don’t think that.”
“Good. Because I’m not that kind of guy.”
Margo gives me an understanding look and leans in closer so I’m the only one who can hear. “You know you don’t haveto decide right now. But maybe don’t say no just because you’re scared.”
My reply is so reflexive it’s out of my mouth without a second thought. “I’m not scared at all.” Only when Margo gives me another knowing look do I backtrack a little. “Okay, maybe I’m a little scared.”
“Scared of what?” Grant asks, lowering his voice just a little. “I promise I’m not quite as big of a jerk as I play on TV.”
