“I’m going to get some free weights over there. Be right back.” I jog to the other side of the gym.
As I wait for someone to finish their rep, I glance back and watch a jacked guy wearing a ripped tank top walk over in her direction. He sports the type of over-the-top muscles that make you wonder if it’sjustprotein powder.
Muscle Guy holds out his hand, and Gracie tightens her grip on the machine in response. She still has a difficult time trusting men after her asshole father. I know Gracie can handle herself, but I’m not sure ifIcan handle watching the Hulk chat her up. It takes me all of two seconds to abandon the weights and run back to her.
“I like your outfit, by the way. The light blue looks great on you. Do you come here often?” I overhear him ask.
“I usually only come with?—”
“Me. Hey, dude. I’m DT.” My breath comes in short puffs, and it’s not from the workout.
“DT! Whoa. Nice to meet you, man. Can’t wait to see you on the field this year. I was just talking to…” He looks at her expectantly.
“Grace. My girlfriend.” I bend down, hooking my arm around her back and practically hoisting her up to my side. “Your outfit does look nice, baby,” I murmur softly in her ear.
“Ah, shit. I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. Sorry about that, man.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m not her keeper.”
Gracie bites her bottom lip, trying not to laugh.
“Nice meeting you though,” I say, politely dismissing him.
After he walks away, I squeeze Gracie’s hip. “Let’s get outta here. We can’t have you too exhausted before I get my hands on you.”
She flushes. “Can we repeat last night? I really loved when you?—”
I cut her off with a groan. “Please stop talking.”
Tugging her behind me, I hurry us out of the facility. She playfully swats my ass, and I swoop her up in the air, tickling her sides and soaking in the sound of her laughter.
Time has been kind to us, and we fall for each other a little harder every day. I may not know what every tomorrow holds, but I know she’ll be in it. And that’s more than enough. Because even after years of belonging to Gracie Sinclair, I still can’t believe she’s mine.
Chapter 32
Danny
Gracie looks like mine.
The lack of weather-appropriate clothing in her backpack led to her reluctantly accepting my eager offer to wear my Mustangs hoodie, which completely swallows the top of her blue jeans. She’s pulled her red curls into a loose braid, but a few stubborn strands peek out. I clench my hand, stopping myself from brushing them back.
I spent too much time upstairs, debating what to wear, until I frantically texted Tessa some options and received an excited “which one matches her energy?” With that in mind, I threw on a light blue half-zip athletic shirt and jeans.
I don’t usually take advantage of the team’s car service, but I did tonight. Gracie joked that I must not have wanted her to suffer through more of my driving. In actuality, I’m hoping to hold her hand while cuddled up in the backseat on the way home.
The driver takes the scenic route to a little bar in Windsor Terrace called Anemone. The front half of the building is an active flower shop with an abundance of all different types of unique flowers. As we walk in, a variety of reeds, greenery, baby’s breath, and ferns line the walls. Acoustic guitar musicis playing softly over the speakers, and there’s a warm glow from mismatched lamps throughout the shop. In the center of the space are several round tables with cut, colorful flowers displayed in glass jars of varying heights.
I turn to face Gracie. Her head tilts to the side in surprise, eyes wide, as she takes it all in. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” She walks further into the shop and gently touches a few of the garden figurines. “I thought we were going to trivia.”
“We are. This is actually a combination flower shop and bar. We’ll head back to the bar area soon. You always enjoyed flowers, although I don’t know if that’s changed, I guess.”
“It hasn’t,” she says softly. “I love it here.”
After all this time, hearing Gracie say the word “love” feels like a luxury. I almost say it back with a different meaning attached.
“Ah, DT. You called about the red tulips!” an older woman, who must be the shop owner, shouts from behind the cashier’s desk. She’s wearing khakis, a shirt that saysDaffodil With It, and a nametag reading “Betty” as she putters over to us.
“Red tulips?” Gracie asks.
