Page 13 of The Check Down

My name from his lips sends tingles of a different sort through my core. But I shake them off and force my eyes to his. “How’d you even know…” I can’t finish my question. Can’t give voice to what we justwitnessed.

Griffin doesn’t need me to. “Saw you on his arm earlier.” He shrugs and takes a step closer. “Figured he was the owner of the Beamer.”

Instantly, the memory of the nervous call I made to my boyfriend right after the fender-bender bubbles up.

“Jack? I’m so, so sorry, but I’ve been in an accident, and—”

“An accident? Like a car accident? Is the Beamer okay?”

The man seriously asked about his car before he checked on my well-being. One of many red flags I’ve chosen to ignore over the years. Perhaps the reddest of them all.

Until tonight.

“Brynn,” Griffin says again.

I have to crane my neck to make eye contact when he’s standing this close. For a moment, I study him. Warm blue-gray eyes, hooded under thick, dark brows. A straight, aquiline nose. His ears stick out a tiny bit, like the universe tried to tamp down his perfection with a slight overcorrection. Rather than lessen his rugged attractiveness, it only adds a cuteness that’s rare for a man who’s got to be in his thirties. Cuteandrugged? Who could resist that combo? His hair, a brown so dark it’s almost black, is cropped close to his head.

Does he keep it this length all the time? Does he have a standing appointment with a barber? Do NFL superstars evengoto barbershops, or do they hire professionals to make house calls?

I give my head a small shake. Why the hell am I thinking about barbershops right now?

He rubs a hand over his short, dark beard and regards me with a frown. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Do you wanna get out of here?

The question clangs through me, the multiple implications forherelining up like an organized list.

Do I want to get out of thisroomfull of strangers where I just witnessed my boyfriend more than flirt with another woman? Yes.

Do I want to get out of thiscity, a place so vibrant and quirky and rowdy it makes me feel like a beige impostor? Also yes.

But I can’t leave this event with the man watching me with a challenging gleam in his eyes. Can I?

The people pleaser in me says absolutely not. But something about Griffin Lacey makes me want to be impulsive.

I glance around, searching for someone who might save me from this decision, but then I remember that I don’t know anyone here.

Except Jack. And this man. Sort of. The man who’s wearing a smile that makes me want to say yes.

I buy some time by asking, “Don’t you need to stay?”

He peers around the bustling ballroom. “I’ve posed for plenty of selfies and signed enough jerseys.” His lips twist to one side. “I can get you one.”

“I don’t wear sports jerseys,” I blurt before I can think my response through.Damn it. I close my eyes and hope that when I open them, I’ll discover tonight was all a terrible nightmare.

No such luck. When I lift my lids, I’m still standing in a crowded ballroom with a hot football player staring at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

His dark brows—drawn together from my bluntness, no doubt—smooth out. “No worries. And my invitation for an escape is still on the table, even if you did just reject my jersey.” He slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I give him a weak smile.

“No worries, Brynn.”

Holy hell. The way his gravelly voice forms the phonemes of my name makes goose bumps blanket my body.

“What do you say?” he asks, ducking closer and meeting my eye. “Wanna blow this popsicle stand?”

When he rolls his lips, waiting for my answer, I want nothing more than to say yes. I don’t care where we’ll go or what we’ll do, but I want to go on an adventure. With him.