“I guess this is as good as any time to say this. I am sorry about Anna. I don't know why I did it, maybe just to ruin your night.” There, I apologized. I meant it and regretted it. I closed my eyes at his blank face. And, I kept going. “Not ruin your night, but make it awkward. I don't know. It wasn't a great idea. I see that now. So, I'm sorry.”
“Why do you close your eyes or avoid mine?” he asked, throwing me off my game. I was expecting a verbal lashing or more questions. Not… Notthat. He lowered his gaze, so his face was a foot away. “I noticed you do that a lot.”
“It's your eyes. They are intimidating,” I said. “Also, I know you sort of apologized, kind of explained, but I still worry you're going to go back to being that jerk to me you were that first week. So, I avoid your eyes. Those crazy blue things are intense, Anderson.”
“You are unlike anyone I've ever met,” he said, deadpanned and expressionless. “I won't snap at you again unless it's necessary. I have a hard time when people don't… What's the best way to say it?” He paused, eyes narrowed in thought. “When people don't take care of themselves? Or when they hurt themselves.”
“Was that your way of saying I can't take care of myself?” My voice rose, not liking what he was insinuating. “Because that's what I just heard.”
“Shit.” He stood, hand on the back of his neck again, rubbing it. His eyes clouded, his jaw clenching twice before he spoke again. His voice was softer, the deep timbre of it hitting me square in the chest. “Grace, that's not it. I've seen you hurt yourself, three times now. It pisses me off. I don't want to see you hurt. It drives me crazy that I couldn't prevent it.”
Oh.
Oh my.
That was why he got so damn cranky? He didn't like to see me hurt? That was romantic? Kind? A normal human emotion? I had no idea. “Okay.”
“Okay? You generally talk way too much, and that's your response?” he asked, one full pink lip tilting on the side in a beautiful grin.
“Yup.” I raised my brows at him, his odd answer mollifying me. “Now, let's go check out the basketball training room. I've never been in one.”
Chapter Seven
“Gracie May!You're being requested at booth four.” Brandy’s voice carried, causing four men to turn in my direction.
I gulped, giving the foursome an awkward wave.
Brock’s eyes met mine, slowly raking down my body to land on my knee. His eyes turned ten degrees colder, a tight frown overtaking his mouth for a split second. Oh, jeez. Was he worried about my damn knee, again? Is that why he brought three coaches with him on my last night working at the restaurant?
I walked over to their table and ignored Brock the entire time. “Hey, you guys, what's going on?”
“Grace, glad we got your section,” Logan said, smiling at me with too much charm. I returned the gesture and took in his polo, loose shorts, and sunglasses. “We just got out of a meeting. Tomorrow’s the big scrimmage, where we determine the starting lineup. You going to be there on the field?”
I looked at Brock to respond, but he beat me to it. His deep voice made me want to bottle it up and listen to it later. Preferably at night, in the dark. “She'll be there.”
“Sweet. We missed ya down on the field this week,” Logan drawled, looking at the other two guys at the table, a tanned, black haired man who smiled at me. “This is Bryan and Kris. They are coaches, too.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, hoping my face showed genuine interest and not worry. I tended to look constipated when I fought a frown. It was alose-losesituation, so it was best if I avoided it. Like right now. Shit. Bryan gave me a half smile.
“How's it working for this asshole so far?” Bryan asked, shoving Brock in the shoulder.
My gaze flew to meet Brock’s.
His eyes danced with humor, narrowing on the sides and his lip curved up. “He can be a real bitch sometimes, especially if he's hungry.”
“That explains it, then,” I said, without thinking. Oh god. I just called him a bitch, passively. I bit my lip, but then the four of them burst out laughing. It was so loud, other tables around us looked on with confused expressions. “Just kidding?” I added, because yes,thatwould make it better.
“I'm not that bad,” Brock whined. He freaking whined, his bottom lip sticking out in such a playful way it shocked me. Broody Brock, hot; Asshole Anderson, hot but rude; but playful Brock. Shit. There was no match for that. “Am I really?”
I pursed my lips at him, a slow smile forming. “I prefer not to answer. So, gentleman, drinks?” While they ordered, Brock’s gaze stayed locked on me.
I took my time on my way back to the serving station. Fritz leaned had spotted me coming and leaned against the station with one eyebrow arched.
“Yes, nosey?” I asked when I reached him.
“What makes you assume I was going to ask anything?” He chuckled and leaned his head on his hands. It made him look five, not twenty something.
“Because you're you.” I punched in their order for beers and brought the pitcher of water to fill their glasses.
