Page 52 of Getting the Grinder
I lower my voice, not wanting my driver to hear what I’m saying. “It’s hard for me to not know whether you’re safe. Even though we’re ... new.”
“I’m safe. Dex is taking me to work tomorrow and picking me up after, so we can go to trivia and then come back to his place. I won’t be alone.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me something.”
Her voice casts a spell over me. I was all worked up, and just the sound of her voice calms me. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”
I should say something nice about her, but instead I say, “I talked to our trainer about my knee. I’m going on the injured reserve and getting an MRI when I get home.”
“You did? Oh, Leo. I’m so glad you did. What made you change your mind?”
“You.”
She laughs lightly. “I love it when I get credit for something I wasn’t even trying to do. Seriously, this is really good news. So what happens from here?”
I sigh deeply. “The MRI will help the doctors see how bad the tear is. They’ll either recommend rehab or surgery. Either way, I’ll be out for at least four weeks.”
“Wow. How are you feeling about that?”
“I don’t even know. It hasn’t even sunk in yet. It will tomorrow, when I’m not dressing for the game.”
She yawns, and I remember our lack of sleep last night. “You don’t regret last night, do you?”
“Not at all. It was incredible. Do you regret it?”
“No. I haven’t told Suki yet. Or anyone else. She’s going to be so smug and satisfied when she finds out.”
I grin. “Oh yeah? Why?”
“She pretty much called it. She thought she saw an attraction between us.”
“I don’t think I was ever great at hiding it.”
“But you’ve called me a witch in like fifty-seven different ways. And the endless comments about my bush ... No man could ever fuck me without a machete and a road map. My bush maintenance should be covered by the feds because it’s wildfire prevention. My bush is actually a wormhole that?—”
I stop her. “I know. I was an asshole. I regret every word of it.”
She hums a single note of amusement. “It’s okay. I like a good spar every now and then. I like to think I give as good as I get.”
I remember last night and all of our verbal bouts that led up to it. “Always. If not better. One of the sexiest things about you is how smart you are.”
My car pulls up to my hotel and I get out, taking my bag and waving to the driver.
“I’m falling asleep,” Mara says. “I was thinking ... instead of playing games about how often we should text and see each other, what if we’re just totally honest? I’ll start. I’ll be hurt if I don’t hear from you at all tomorrow. A text is fine, just don’t ignore me.”
“You won’t need to worry about that. Get some sleep. And let me know if anything happens with the nutjob who emailed you.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Night.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mara
