Landon
I stumble down the stairs at the crack of dawn, feeling like ass, and find Grady’s enormous form in the kitchen. He’s about half the size of the narrow L-shaped room. He’s so damn big, and for some reason I can’t explain, I’m obsessed with his size. I can’t take my eyes off him when he’s in a room. I don’t know what it is. I’ve literally lost sleep over it, and my eyes are drawn to him all the time. Like right now, I stand in one of the two doorways into the kitchen, the one off the hall by the stairs I just came down, and watch him fuss over the old Italian percolator on the stovetop.
“I told you I would best you, you little demon spawn,” he whispers to it as it percolates, and I smile.
“Are you smack-talking the coffee pot?”
He jumps a little and turns to face me, a sheepish grin overtakes his ginger lumberjack features. He didn’t always have a thick, almost-out-of-control beard. He grew it during the playoffs because it’s a superstitious ritual a lot of hockey players do, where you don’t shave until your playoff run ends. But it’s a whole new season, and a new team, and Grady still hasn’t shaved it off; he just keeps it trimmed. It suits him a lot, and maybe that’s why he’s keeping it. I never asked.
“This thing was invented by a mad scientist,” Grady points to the metal hourglass-shaped pot on the burner. “This is my second attempt. My first attempt ended with me mopping your floor and almost burning my hands.”
I smirk. “My Uncle Griffin did scald himself. He always goes out for coffee. He won’t even drink coffee made from it by his wife, my Aunt Sadie, out of principle.”
“I respect a man with strong convictions,” Grady replies and turns back to the stove, twisting the dial and turning off the gas flame. “I think it’s ready. Want some?”
“No thanks. I don’t drink coffee anymore.”
I move past him, which is no easy feat because he takes up so much space in this small room, and open the cupboard to the left of the sink that has my protein powder and micronutrient powder. My Aunt Winnie, who lives next door, was kind enough to stock the house with essentials for our arrival. “How long have you been up?”
“Since five,” Grady admits, and my jaw drops. He flashes that sheepish smile again. “I’m an early riser no matter what, but I am a little anxious for today.”
“I figured since you’d been through this before, it wouldn’t give you anxiety,” I reply and reach into the bottom cupboard for the blender. We’re heading to the practice facility today, meeting the team and coaches, and management.
He reaches for one of the mugs on the antique shelf beside the stove as I slide by him to the fridge to grab my oat milk and frozen berries. His back is inches from my front. So close I can feel the heat of his skin through the thin, royal blue t-shirt he’s wearing. He turns as I try to slip behind him on my way back to the blender, and now our fronts are that same short distance apart. He looks down at me, our eyes connecting, and a ripple of something warm and intense shimmies up my spine from somewhere below my belly.
It startles the hell out of me, so I step back, my ass bumping the wall behind me, and then pivot awkwardly and stagger to the counter a comfortable distance away where my blender is waiting. If Grady notices what a weirdo I’m being, he doesn’t say anything. “You and Angie doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I start scooping and dropping things into the blender. “She’s not pouting anymore, not even after the hangover wore off yesterday. I think she’s somewhere between acceptance and… I don’t know… but it feels almost like excitement?”
“So you haven’t given her the r-i-n-g,” he spells out that last word and lowers his voice to a whisper. His attempt at covertness makes me grin, and I realize it’s my first real, effortless smile since I found out I was traded. Granted, that’s only been forty-eight hours.
“No.” I shake my head. “Maybe she doesn’t need it? Maybe she’s not going to freak out anymore.”
Grady looks skeptical as he pours his coffee. “Maybe. Probably best this way. You can give it to her when things aren’t so stressful.”
I hit the blender button. It drowns out any more potential conversation, which is good because I suddenly feel nervous. And not in an about-to-ask-my-soulmate-to-marry-me sorta way. More in a what-the-fuck-am-I-doing way, which is disconcerting to say the least. Truth is, if Angie wasn’t so upset, I wouldn’t have bought a ring. Marriage is still this far-off idea to me. Because she still says she doesn’t want kids, and I do so… shouldn’t we work that out before we take this even further?
As I watch my healthy mixture get pulverized into a frothy beverage, Grady leans against the stove and watches me. I can’t help but look up. Our eyes lock and, as usual, I can’t look away. His wide mouth turns up in the corners over the rim of his coffee mug. “I sense some panic.”
“Maybe a little, and that’s making me panic a lot,” I reply, and his smile drops.
Before I can say anything else, Angela appears in the doorway. My eyes nearly bug out of my head because she’s wearing what she wears to bed—barely-there boy shorts and a clingy baby pink tank. I can see her nipples through the top, loud and clear. The entire shape. Grady can too, and I watch his hazel eyes flare, and then he turns away. “Morning,” Angela mumbles. “Is there coffee for me?”
“Umm… probably half a cup left.” Grady grabs a mug from the shelf, puts it on the stove between the burners, and pours what’s left into the mug.
When he turns to hand it to her, he keeps his eyes on the wall. Angela notices as she thanks him. “What? I’m sure you’ve seen women in less clothing before.”
Grady nods. “But not women who are dating my friends.”
This is all a bit nuts, but my brain registers he used the word friend and not just teammate. And my brain likes that. But there are bigger issues to deal with as I watch Angela shrug. “You’ve never hooked up with a girl with your teammate? I hear that happens.”
“Angie! What the fuck has gotten into you?” I demand, and she rolls her eyes.
She slips past Grady, who backs into the stove to let her pass, and I watch as she takes a sip of her black coffee and then puts it down on the counter and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Landon, you’re the one who told me that some teammates share.”
“I did, but I didn’t say it was Grady.”
“You didn’t say who it was, which is why I’m asking.” Angela seems so unbothered by this conversation, and she’s not even drunk anymore. I don’t know what to blame this behavior on now. “All you said was that it fascinated you… The two guys, one girl thing… and you wondered what it was like. Maybe Grady, if he’s done it, can tell us.”
