Page 2 of Romancing the Grump
Nathan Sanders.
Just the thought of his name makes me flush with embarrassment.
Lucy is the romantic twin—the one prone to heavy sighs and swoons. I mean, I’m as into dating as she is, and I’m down to watch a romantic comedy when the mood strikes, but you will never see me abandon logic and reason for a man. I will not be the one with heart eyes, falling in love at first sight. I need six months of steady dating before I’ll even think of sayingI love you,and you’d better believe I’m asking questions about personality, financial security, and temperament. I won’tnotlisten to my heart. It definitely gets a seat in the boardroom. But my head is chief executive, and it makes every decision with careful precision.
Which is why it was so irritating when, the first time I saw Nathan signing autographs with a few of his teammates at the Harvest Hollow Farmer’s Market, I basically lost my ability to speak. My body flushed with heat, my skin prickled,my heart started pounding. As stupid as it sounds, it almost seemed like I’d met him before.
I definitely hadn’t—I even looked up his bio on the internet to make sure we didn’t attend the same high school or something—but he still felt…familiar.
When we finallydidmeet in person, he didn’t say more than a dozen words to me, and he didn’t make eye contact a single time. I even pushed, more than I normally would, spurred by the sensation that somehow, for reasons I couldn’t explain, this guy was significant. I amped up my flirting game, hinted that we should get dinner sometime, and…nothing. He didn’t respond at all.
I quickly retreated and gave my brain full veto powers on theheartfeelings that were clearly leading me astray.
Whatever I thought I felt, I was wrong. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. Or maybe fate had simply misfired—a weird, cosmic miscalculation, best ignored.
As the days turned into weeks, then months, I made every effort to forget him. There are not enough hours in a day to waste a single one of them pining after a man who isn’t interested back.
Still, as Nathan pulls a bag from the backseat of his SUV, then closes and locks his car, a familiar stirring in my midsection sends heat pumping to my limbs, making my fingertips tingle.
I press a hand to my gut. “Stop it,” I whisper to my flipping stomach. “He’s not for you.”
I take a few steps forward, faking a confidence I don’t feel, and smile as Nathan makes eye contact.
Okay.He is definitelynotsmiling back. He might even be frowning. Like, wrinkled forehead, stern, heavy eyebrows, lips turned completely down. His expression doesn’t look sad, though. It’s more…menacing.
I consider the ramifications of turning on my heel and going the opposite direction. I could just go back to my car, climb in, and drive away like this entire morning didn’t happen.
Maybe my first day of work can be tomorrow. I’m sure I can come up with a good excuse.
Something like: the water at my new apartment hasn’t been turned on yet, and I have too much respect for the Appies to come to work without a shower.
Or maybe: my neighbor’s dog got lost, and since I’m new to the neighborhood, traipsing through the woods to look for poor little Rufus felt like a great way to make new friends.
Better yet: my period started, and I need at least twenty-four more hours of hard exercise and Reese’s peanut butter cups (don’t question my methodology—I swear it’s sound) before I have the mental fortitude to deal with very big, very brutish, very frowny hockey players.
Butno.Summer Callahan is not a quitter. And Nathan Sanders doesnotget to put me in a bad mood on what’s supposed to be a very good first day.
I square my shoulders and fall into step next to Nathan, who is heading toward the Summit door like he could not care even a little bit that I’m in the parking lot with him.
“Nathan, right? I think we met last fall?”
His eyes dart my way just long enough for me to know he heard me, but otherwise, he doesn’t respond.
“I’m Gracie’s friend?” I say, trying again. “Gracie, Felix’s girlfriend?”
Still no acknowledgment.
Is this guy actually for real?
“As in…your teammate, Felix? The goalie?”
Finally, Nathan stops and turns to face me, forcing me to stop or run smack into him. I plant my feet, willing myankles not to wobble in the heels that really do not like the uneven gravel-strewn surface of the Summit parking lot, and breathe in a deep breath of Nathan-scented air.
If I’m trying to keep my cool, that was averybad move, because Nathan smells heavenly. Like clean laundry and fresh cedar.
My eyes track upward, skimming over Nathan’s dark joggers and the light gray thermal that’s stretched across his chest, clinging to the dips and curves of his muscles like it was painted onto him. His long, light brown hair is knotted at the back of his head, and freckles dot the fair skin on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His face is locked into the same frown he was wearing when we first made eye contact.
Still, there’s some sense of recognition in his blue eyes, so at a minimum, I know he remembers meeting me. He and Felix are friends.Goodfriends. He had to have heard I was moving to Harvest Hollow and joining the Appies’ legal team.
