Page 30 of Getting the Grinder
It’s all I can do to get the words out, because Leo’s giving me the I’m about to kiss you look. And for some reason I can’t explain, I want him to. Is it my long-term lack of physical affection? The spirit of the holiday season? Whatever it is, I’m not a fan.
I clear my throat, ending the moment. “I need to go talk to Suki.” I pass him my wineglass. “Would you mind getting me a refill?”
He takes the glass. “You want anything to eat?”
“Mm, I’m good for now. I like to get my buzz on and then eat.”
“As you wish.”
I watch him go as he walks over to the bar, admiring his “pro dumper.” He’s built for long nights of endless positions in bed. But just because he has a body that makes me salivate, that doesn’t mean he knows how to use it. He could be one of those guys who jackhammer women into oblivion and rubs their clits like he’s trying to remove a carpet stain.
That has to be Leo. Suki has told me he’s what they call a grinder in hockey, because he gives a hundred and ten percent all day, every day. He doesn’t score a lot, but he does whatever it takes to create opportunities for his teammates to. I’m sure he’s the same in the bedroom, grinding his partners into the mattress.
“Need this?”
I turn to find Suki standing next to me, holding out a napkin.
“No, why?” I say, confused.
“I thought you might want to wipe away your drool.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. I can admire the packaging without wanting to unwrap it.”
“Uh-huh. Either you two missed your calling as actors, or there’s something there. I saw the way you were looking at each other.”
“Pfft.” I take a sip of my wine. “Only because you know who was looking at us. We were talking about how much we hate each other.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
I give her a sympathetic look. “I know you think you’ve got this all figured out and you’re mentally picking out your matron of honor dress already, but babe, Leo and I are like fetch. We’re never going to happen.”
“Because why would you want a guy who rescues freezing puppies? While also having those abs?” She sips her wine. “Where’s your glass, by the way?”
I don’t even realize I’m scanning the people in the room, looking for Leo, until my gaze lands on him. There’s a woman talking to him in the drink line, and she’s laughing. Though his washboard abs are out of view since his side is facing me, I can still appreciate the cut muscles in his thick upper arms.
“Leo’s getting me another one.”
Suki balks, throwing her head back slightly. “And he gets you drinks?”
I roll my eyes. “You know the situation. We’re playing at being a couple. He has to do things like that.”
“Does that mean you’ll be hanging onto his arm later and looking at him adoringly?” She smirks.
“Um, no. I’m here, and that’s me holding up my end of the bargain.”
“It is really nice of you to do this for him. It reminds me of me and Carter.” She furrows her brow, speaking in a low tone. “I can’t believe Leo wore that when he’s supposed to be happily dating someone. He looks like he’s on the prowl with his muscles on display like that.”
“I picked it out,” I admit.
Her eyes bulge and she laughs lightly. “I see. Just know that as your best friend, I’m entitled to at least a text within twenty-four hours of you clawing up his back for the first time.”
“Fetch, remember?”
Leo is talking to a man I don’t know now, and his back is facing me. The small sweater-vest is stretched across his broad back, light hitting some of the shining ball ornaments. I mentally file away a quip about him having a lot of balls for once, knowing I’ll find a time to use it at some point tonight.
I still can’t believe I told him about my dad. Nothing and no one means more to me than my parents, and I safeguard their vulnerability with my whole being. Probably because it’s also my own vulnerability. They live in Indianapolis, where my mom’s sister also lives. Aunt Rhonda is a big source of emotional support to my mom, and she helps with my dad’s care.
On our weekly FaceTime calls, my parents’ faces glow as I tell them about my work. Even though I just handle speeding tickets and other mundane cases, they think I’m a rock star prosecutor. They’ve been adamant since I left for college that they want me to live my life. They don’t want me to be a caregiver to my dad. He told me during my senior year of high school that the greatest gift I could give him would be to truly leave home and chase my dreams.
