Page 56 of Perfect Score

Gran gives Zoey a devilish grin. "That recipe is all up here," she says, tapping at her temple. "And a copy of it is in my will for Tessa. I don't give it out to just anyone."

Zoey flashes her brightest smile, the one that would have me dropping to one knee if she wanted.

"Not even for the girl dating Brent," she asks.

Now I feel used.

Gran chuckles. "I'll make you a deal. If you marry my grandson, I'll give you that recipe on your wedding day as you're something borrowed."

Zoey flashes a look at me, shock on her face that Gran is a tough negotiator and I just shrug.

Whoever said that Gran isn't a good wingman is a damn liar.

"I have to marry Brent to get it?" she asks.

"Take it or leave it, honey," Gran says over her shoulder before turning back to Hector, who’s grinning ear to ear. "Now spin me around, Hector, I want to feel the wind in my hair."

Hector wastes no time, twirling her in a slow, careful circle as laughter fills the room, the sound mixing with the soft music playing in the background. I catch the flash of Zoey’s wide eyes as she watches them, her mouth slightly open in surprise.

"I told you," I say, stepping back towards the door. "You weren’t going to get it." The words come out lighter than I intended, mostly to hide the amusement bubbling up inside me.But when I don’t hear her footsteps following, I stop and turn back.

Zoey’s still rooted to the spot where Gran left her, dancers spinning and weaving in between us, their bodies swaying to the music. Her face is contemplative like she’s caught in the middle of a thought she wasn’t ready to face.

"What?" I ask, brow furrowed.

"Are you worth it?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.

I stand there, not completely sure if I heard her right. "Am I worth what?"

Her gaze locks onto mine, a small grin at one corner of her lips. "Are you worth a brownie recipe?"

Is she screwing with me?

I let the question hang between us for a beat, the weight of it far more than just about Gran’s brownies. I smirk back at her. "Do you want to find out?"

Before she can respond, her phone rings breaking our connection. She pulls her phone from her back pocket and glances down at the screen.

"It’s my dad," she says, her voice softer now. "He’s wondering where we are."

I exhale, the tension settling. "We’d better go then," I tell her, pushing my hands into my pockets as I head for the exit.

Why did that feel so fucking close?

I can't help but wonder what her answer would have been if we hadn't been interrupted, but just because she'd say yes doesn't mean I'm not second best to Liam… and also a brownie recipe.

The large double doors of the main lobby of the facility are within sight as we take long strides towards it, Zoey doing well to keep up in her heels.

The valet sees me and radios to another valet, likely one of the drivers who has a valet booth on the other side.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tomlin. We hope you enjoyed your visit. I’ve called your car ahead, and they should have it coming around at any moment,” he says.

Every time I come here to visit my grandmother, I’m more impressed with how this place is run.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“And by the way, I’m a huge fan. You’ve always been one of my favorite players in professional hockey. I’ve followed your career since you got drafted.”

He looks about eighteen or nineteen, somewhere around there. He was probably nine or ten when I got drafted, so he might have been watching me play since my rookie year.

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