Page 267 of Well Played

Maddox threw his head back in a loud laugh. “You’ll have to tell me sometime. I’ve got to jet, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Grant muttered.

Should he ask her? They didn’t talk a lot about soccer and he didn’t know if she even liked to watch it. It would probably be too presumptuous, or at least that was what he convinced himself of on the way home.

She wasn’t around when he made it to his apartment, so he let himself in and went about getting cleaned up from practice. His phone chimed a little while later.

Cassie: How was it?

Grant couldn’t hold back his smile at a text from her.

Grant: Good. Still don’t know if I’ll play tomorrow.

Cassie: That’s got to be frustrating.

Grant: A little. What are you doing?

Cassie: Cooking dinner.

Grant: What are you having?

Cassie: Why? Fishing for an invitation?

He laughed. She’d invited him over every night except Tuesday, when she had a late yoga class she was teaching.

Grant: Maybe I was going to invite you over.

Cassie: Ha! Were you?

Grant: Umm…

Cassie: I knew it. Does it matter what I’m cooking if you don’t have to cook for yourself?

Cassie: The door’s unlocked.

Grant scrambled off the couch where he’d been relaxing and made a beeline for the door. He didn’t give a damn about the food, just wanted to see her if he was being honest.

The door was unlocked, as promised, and he let himself in. Immediately, the smell of garlic bread hit him and his stomach growled.

“Well, that’s one way to enter a room.” Cassie tossed a hand towel over her shoulder. “Pasta night.”

“Carbs,” he almost moaned.

Grant went into her kitchen and took in the pots, sticking his finger in the white sauce and giving it a taste.

“How is it?” she asked. Not once had she fussed at him for tasting the food, but he had a feeling if one of her brothers tried it, they’d get hit with that towel on her shoulder.

“Really good.” The Alfredo was seasoned nicely and he couldn’t wait to dig in. “I’m going to need you to let me giveyou some money for all the groceries you’ve wasted on me this week.”

“Hardly a waste. If I had a problem with it, I would’ve told you.”

She started building the plates and handed one to him. They both carried their plates to the table, and Grant took the seat across from her.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” She asked between bites.

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s a weird nervous excitement. I don’t know the fans and how things go here, so it will be interesting.”

“They’re loud. Very loud. And they are very big fans, win or lose.”

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