Page 31 of The Check Down

“I know.” He clears his throat, which reminds me to take a freaking breath. “You weren’t hinting. I see that. But I own a whole damn building. My apartment is two stories. You’d have the top floor to yourself. I only go up there to get things from my office.And let’s be honest, I’m not an office kind of guy. I’m more a studies-plays-on-an-iPad-while-lounging-on-the-couch kind of guy. So I’m never up there.”

The rapid-fire heartbeats in my chest don’t slow as I consider his offer. Is this insane? Moving in with a guy I’ve only known for a couple of weeks?Of course it is. So why, then, am I about to agree to be his roommate?

He continues his hard sell. “I’m not there much during the day, and the weekends we’re out of town, of course. You’d have the place to yourself. Except weeknights. And you said it’s only for three months?”

I nod absently. Three months. That’ll pass in a blink, right?

My football star friend stands resolute, hands on hips. But his damn eyes twinkle. “C’mon, you know you wanna say yes.”

God, I do. This man could convince me to rob a bank. Or graffiti a building.

Or move in with him…

“Okay. I accept.”

Planned or not, the words shock the air out of my lungs. Like the free-fall at the crest of a roller coaster. Should I raise both hands in the air or cling to the safety bar for dear life?

His response? An undiluted, full-fledged Griffin Lacey smile. The kind that makes me feel weightless.

“Awesome, roomie.” He holds his hand out, ready to seal the deal. “We forgot this earlier.”

So we complete our intricate handshake, then, in a daze, I follow him back to his truck.

My chest goes tight as we park behind several luxury cars and SUVs that line the curb in front of a charming, two-story home. The tan siding of the home and the tall, white columns and trim showcase the slender floor-to-ceiling windows on each floor perfectly. And the welcoming front porch and second-story balcony lend a hint of quaintness to the whole package. Thelots on this street are narrow, so homes sit close together in a way that resembles the historic double gallery houses I saw in New Orleans when Jack and I visited a couple of years ago.

On our way up the front walk, Griffin ducks and tilts closer. “Remember: we can leave whenever you want.”

I nod as we step up onto the porch and give him my best reassuring smile.

The interior of the house is modern yet cozy. Rich walnut floors, smooth eggshell walls decorated with bold, framed prints, and a mix of leather and upholstered furniture in shades of espresso and taupe. The space is crowded with bodies: tall, broad football players and their significant others. For a fleeting moment, I worry that they’ll think I’m Griffin’s date.

But after the players in the living room greet him with bone-jarring bro hugs and handshakes, he gets ahead of the assumptions.

“Yo!” he shouts, silencing the entire room. “This is my friend Brynn. Make her feel welcome, please.”

Cheeks burning, I plaster on a smile and give the crowd an awkward wave. Griffin remains a steady presence at my side as curious eyes scrutinize me. When I realize those inquisitive stares are paired with friendly smiles, I lower my shoulders.

A cute younger guy with smooth brown skin and a flirty smile pulls his beer from his lips and tilts his head, thoughtful. “Hey, Lacey, isn’t she—”

The Blues’ quarterback smacks the back of his head affectionately, cutting him off. Without missing a beat, Beau Dempsey closes the distance and extends his hand. “Hi, Brynn. I’m Beau. Nice to meet you.”

His slow-as-molasses southern drawl is a balm to my insecurities. With a smile, I slip my hand into his. He stands a couple of inches shorter than Griffin, his body a little less bulky, too. But the man is gorgeous. He’s the only Blues player besides Griffin thatI could pick out of a lineup, and that’s only because the city has plastered his handsome boy-next-door face everywhere.

“Thanks for having me. Your home is beau—”

“Oh, hello! Welcome!” An enthusiastic blond sidles up to Beau and happily allows him to pull her into his side. She’s beautiful. Perfect sun-kissed skin, thick blond waves that hit just below her shoulders. Eyes a blue so dark they’re almost violet. A beauty pageant smile that showcases straight, white teeth.

She and Beau are a perfect match.

“I’m Paige Keller,” she says, her voice light, bubbly.

“Brynn.” I hold out a hand.

Rather than shake it, she swoops in for a hug. “Oh, gosh,” she warbles as she squeezes me, the last word sounding more likegawshwith her accent. “I’m a hugger. I hope that’s okay.” I’ve literally just met her, but strangely, her fresh scent is comforting, so I let myself bask in a hug for the second time today.

“Now.” She takes both of my hands in hers and backs away from the group. “Come hang out with the girls in the kitchen. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

My blood pressure spikes, but I allow her to pull me away from the safety of Griffin’s side. Before I can panic, though, a large, reassuring hand presses into the small of my back. “I’ll go with you ladies, grab myself a drink.”

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