Page 4 of The Check Down

I return to Brynn, who is still sitting in my back seat. She’s hunched over, rubbing her sleeveless arms like she’s warding off a chill, even as a heat haze rises from the ground around us.

“I’ll forward these pictures to you. For your insurance.”

She sits up and eyes the hand I’ve extended to help her out of the car. “W-wait, we can’t leave until the police make a report. Insurance might deny coverage if we do.”

Without a word, I wriggle my fingers.

Her eyes dart from my hand to my eyes and back again. After a beat, she huffs a breath and accepts my silent offer.

The moment her hand is in mine, I swear an electric jolt races through me. It’s so unexpected and potent, my knees almost buckle.

But she’s Jack’s, whoever the hell he is. So I shake off the sensation. As I walk her to her car, I resist the urge to guide her with a hand to the small of her back. “If insurance has an issue with it,” I tell her, “I’ll take care of it.”

She jerks to a stop, her hand slipping from mine, and she rounds on me. “You’ll take care of it? What does that mean?” That little wrinkle forms between her brows again as she stares me down. It’s so fucking adorable, I twist my lips to quell a smile.

“It means I’ll handle it. Pay for the damages or whatever.” I wave a hand.

She tracks the gesture, her frown deepening. “But it wasn’t your fault.Idid this. I’m to blame. How can you be so flippant about it? Why would you offer to pay for something you didn’t do?”

I lift a shoulder and let it fall lazily. “Because I can.”

Eyes narrowed, she crosses her arms, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess to keep myself from admiring the way this position pushes her tits up.

“Because you can? What kind of answer is that? I can’t have a random stranger, whose car Ihit, by the way, paying to fix Jack’s car.”

“Sure you can.” I mimic her stance, crossing my arms. The movement causes my shirt to pull tight over my shoulders, and the stretch of cotton across my sweaty back reminds me it’s time to wrap up this encounter. As she scans the street around us, like the hustle and bustle of Memphis can provide her with answers, I lose the battle I’ve been waging for the past few moments.

I take a peek. And I am not disappointed.

They’re high and perfect, and she’s showing the barest hint of cleavage. The view is so tantalizing, my mouth fucking waters.

See, definitelynota choirboy.

When I wrest my gaze back to hers, my face flames. She’s caught me. Her eyes are wide and locked on me, and a pink hue flushes her ivory skin. Still, I own that shit and give her a sheepish smile in return.

The same smile that has gotten me out of countless scrapes with Donna Lacey.

What the fuck, right? I’ll never see this woman again.

Loosening her arms, she straightens and juts her chin, her brown ponytail swinging with the movement. “Whoareyou exactly?”

A niggle of dread seeps through me at the question. She might not recognize my face, but will she know my name? So far, I’ve reveled in her ignorance of my celebrity. But I’m shocked that a passerby hasn’t screeched to a halt in the middle of the street and really fucked up traffic to demand a selfie or an autograph. Though I suppose Memphis is pretty different from Nashville. Maybe while I’m here, I won’t be subjected to the scrutiny and pressure and hero-worship I’ve suffered my whole career.

God, the thought almost knocks the breath right out of me.

This last chance I’ve been given means my sole focus must be football. Not endorsements or appearances or parties. Or women.

With that in mind, I quash the sliver of disappointment that’s nicked me at the idea that I’ll never see her again. Hand extended for a shake, I answer her question. “Griffin Lacey. It’s nice to meet you, Brynn Nelson.”

She takes my hand before my words register. I watch her beautiful face as she works out my identity. Her eyes widen when it hits her, and I give her a wide grin before striding back to my SUV.

As I pull back into the crowded Memphis traffic, I allow myself one final glance in the rearview.

Brynn stands motionless on the blistering concrete, mouth agape and one hand over her heart like she’s willing it to slow.

I know the feeling well. My heart was galloping like a thoroughbred the entire time I was in her proximity.

But she’s Jack’s. And I have a comeback to make.

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