“Stop, Grant.” She pulled her hands back. “Look, I understand you have a life somewhere else. But I’m not going to be just another woman in another port you can drop in on anytime it suits you.”
“Whoa…” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Faith, where did that come from?”
“I watched the event on television. Did you want me to see you with her? Was it some bizarre game to boost your ego?” She couldn’t do this. She was going to snap. “I said good-bye. And I meant it.”
“I know. And, like an idiot, I didn’t realize that until just a few hours ago.”
God, she was tired—tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of hurting. “She pressed her elbow to the table and dropped her head into her hand, trying to get rid of the tears before they fell. “Grant, don’t,” she begged. “It was so good. I don’t want it to end like this.”
His big hand cupped her cheek. He leaned close, his voice a heavy, urgent rasp. “I don’t want it to end at all.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back. “I already told you—”
“I don’t want anyone but you. I didn’t ask Bridgette to the event. You can ask my agent—he set Bridgette up as my date for the parties before and after because he didn’t know I was seeing you. She wasn’t supposed to be there. That’s why she showed up at the very end and was only there for a few minutes.” His explanation—even if it wasn’t true, though she was starting to think it might be, because why would he have come all this way when he had Bridgette willing to bang him in DC?—softened the edge off her hurt and anger.
And they sat there a long moment, staring at each other, his eyes begging.
“I was waiting for the president to get to the reception,” he finally said, “so I could take a damn picture with him and go home, when I realized that while I was saying good-bye to you for the day, you were saying good-bye to me for good.”
He suddenly seemed vulnerable in a way she’d never imagined this big strong hockey player could.
Her throat thickened with emotion, but there was still too much gray space between truth and fiction. “Seemed like the right time. It was inevitable, and I didn’t see the point in dragging it out.”
“Thing is…” He leaned forward again and collected one of her hands between his. Faith didn’t pull it away, but she didn’t engage either. And it was excruciatingly difficult. “I don’t see it as inevitable. A few days ago, I wanted to ask if you’d think about continuing to see me.”
Faith’s heart tripped, and her mind scanned backward. She hadn’t seen any sign of that.
“But, man, that’s no small thing in my world. And you’ve had so much to deal with, I didn’t want to put another pressure on your shoulders.”
Disbelief narrowed Faith’s eyes. “I’m not your type. I’m not even close to your type.”
He exhaled, long and slow, then thought a minute. “Okay,” he finally said, “I’m going to talk fast, because I know you’re not going to listen for long. You’re right, you’re not my type. Which is exactly why I can’t shake you. Why it felt like I was gone a month when I was only gone a day. Why I fell so damn hard for you. And why I can’t even think about another woman.”
A current traveled through her chest. She didn’t know if it was excitement, fear, or anger, but she pushed her chair back. She needed space—to think, to breathe.
“The women I’ve seen over the past few years have all been just like Bridgette,” he went on. “They don’t care about anyone
or anything but themselves and what they want. They care about their looks, their image, and their money. I slept with them because neither of us was looking for anything more than sex. They were easy to come by and easy to let go. But you were different from the start.”
Faith’s heart was beating so fast, she pressed her hand to her chest. “Grant—”
“When I was in DC after being here for two weeks, I could barely stand it. Everyone felt plastic. Everything felt scripted. And all I wanted to do was come home. Only I didn’t want to come back here for Holly, or even my family. I wanted to come back for you, Faith. I wanted to come back because…” He released a breath, looked away, then looked back, and that vulnerability had returned. The one that twisted her heart. “I came back because you feel like home to me. And I don’t want to let that go. I don’t want to let you go.”
All Faith’s breath rushed out on a soft sound of shock. “But…you have to go back. Your life is there. Mine is here. I have to figure out the store…” She pressed a hand to her face. Dropped back in the chair. And in her mind’s eye, her life spun like a cyclone. “I… You… How?”
He pressed an elbow to the table and rested his forehead against his fingers. “This is why I didn’t bring it up before I left. I don’t have an easy answer. The regular season doesn’t end until mid-April. If we go into the playoffs, it won’t end until June. We get the summer off—mostly—and training camps start up in September.”
He leaned forward and slid his hands up her thighs until he took hers again. “I haven’t thought through the details yet. I only know that I’ve been with enough women to know when I’ve found someone different, someone special, someone worth holding on to. And I want that with you, Faith. I want to at least try to make this work.”
His pretty eyes brightened with hope. So much hope. So much honesty. Her dad had always said she was a good judge of character. If he were here, he would tell her that all she could do was base her decision on what she knew of Grant firsthand, not gossip or hearsay. He’d tell Faith to trust her gut and follow her heart.
And Faith’s mind was spinning, trying to find a way to make it feasible. She didn’t realize how long she’d been lost in thought until Grant shrugged one shoulder and dropped his gaze. “If that’s not what you want, or it’s too soon—”
Faith reached for his face, cupped his jaw, and lifted his gaze to hers. “It’s what I want,” she said breathlessly. “But, I’m not gonna lie, it scares the hell out of me.”
Relief washed over his features, and a smile brightened his face. The sight of the clouds clearing from his expression brought joy to Faith’s heart. She leaned in and kissed him. And with her lips against his, she knew—this was right. This was where she belonged now. It was the right time to take this risk.
When she pulled back, he brushed hair off her face. “I was thinking about it a lot on the way home. My lifestyle isn’t great. I travel—a lot. But the owner bought the team a new plane last year, one that’s more efficient and faster and seats almost a hundred people. That means I’m usually home the same night I play. And if we’ve got back-to-back games where we’ll be gone awhile, the owner lets the guys bring their girlfriends or wives. The team would cover your expenses on those trips like they cover mine—hotel, food.”