A small smile tugged at her lips. “It helps when your name is on the back of your jersey.”
“But I’m not wearing my jersey.”
“You had it on at the game.”
“It says Vaughn, not Grant.”
She turned her head and looked at him again, the smile on her lips growing slightly. “Fine. After you stopped playing in the middle of the game, I asked Miriam who you were.”
He waggled his brows. “So you were asking about me?”
Still smiling, Emmeline rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Grant pressed his hand against his chest. “Ouch.”
She rolled her eyes.
But the smile on her lips encouraged him to press his luck further. “Wanna hear a secret?”
Emmeline lifted a brow.
He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “I was asking about you too.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, I was just wondering who that pretty girl sitting next to Finn was. Emmeline, right?” He flashed a smile.
Instead of smiling back, she kept a flat expression and stuck out her hand. Grant shook it, feeling oddly formal. “My friends call me Em.”
Did that include him? “Nice to officially meet you, Em.” He waited to see if she would tell him to call her by her full name.
She didn’t.
Before either of them could say anything else, the bartender returned with Em’s drink. He set the glass on a coaster in front of her. “Do you want to run a tab?”
“I’m only getting the one drink.” She slid her purse from her shoulder and started digging around inside. “I’ll just pay now.”
Grant put his hand on her arm. “Let me get it.”
Em’s hand stilled as she looked down at where they touched. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“But—”
“Put it on my tab,” he said to the bartender, not giving Em the chance to argue.
“Sure thing.” The man nodded at him before walking off to talk to another customer.
Em put her purse back on her shoulder, pulling away from his hand. Her eyes were trained on the drink in front of her. “That was really nice, but you should know I don’t date players.”
Grant pushed down his disappointment and leaned in. “It’s just a drink. You could say thank you and leave it at that.”
Her lips twitched. “Thank you.”
He stretched his arms and turned to face the room, elbows on the bar. “Besides, I’m not looking to date either.”
Though I would have made an exception for you.
She faced Grant with wide eyes. “You aren’t?”
“Nah, I was just happy to make amends for bumping into you earlier.”
Em stared at him another moment before a corner of her mouth lifted. “If I got free drinks every time someone bumped into me, I might start leaning over the boards during games.”
“If you started leaning over the boards during games, I might not be able to pay attention to the ball.”
She pressed her lips together. “You know you’re not doing a very good job of stating your case of not hitting on me with comments like that, right?”
“And you know that a little flirting doesn’t mean I’m trying to date you, right?”
That was a lie. Grant was thoroughly enjoying their playful exchange and wanted more.
Em laughed softly. Looking at him through lowered lashes, she jerked her head toward the booth. “I should probably get back to everyone before Finn sends out the search party. Bye, Grant.”
This place wasn’t so big, and Finn could see her from his spot in the booth, but Grant nodded. “I’ll see you around, Em.”
With his back pressed against the counter, Grant rested his elbows on the bar and watched as Em returned to her seat. She was only a few feet away when Bastian stepped directly in front of him blocking his view. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Grant grinned. “Doing what you said. Interacting with the fans.”
Bastian scowled. “Didn’t you hear me when I said that she’s his sister?”
“I did.” And Grant was thrilled with that bit of information.
He’d thought Em was off-limits because she was dating Finn. Knowing that the mutual adoration he’d seen on hers and Finn’s faces was strictly sibling love was great. And to think he might have missed out on talking to her if Bastian hadn’t cleared that up.
Grant craned his head around Bastian to try to get another glance at Em.
“That makes her off-limits.”
Grant’s head snapped back toward Bastian. “What are you talking about?”
“Finn’s really protective over his little sister.” Bastian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re new, so let me make this one thing crystal clear before you do something dumb. You cannot date Emmeline O’Brien.”
This had to be some kind of joke. Grant laughed. “Not sure what century you’re living in, but my sister would tear me a new one if I tried to tell her who she could and couldn’t date.”
“I’m serious. This dude, Parrera, tried to date Emmeline without permission and ended up with a broken nose.”
Grant’s smile fell. “Sounds a little extreme.” He glanced over at the booth just in time to see a guy stop by the table. Finn gave the man a fierce look that said go away. Grant swallowed hard.
Having also witnessed the exchange, Bastian shook his head. “Like I said, he’s very protective of her.”
Grant opened his mouth to ask more about it, but Silas started hollering in their direction.
“Bastian, get over here! You still owe me a rematch in darts.”
“I’ll be right there!” Bastian turned and faced Grant once more, his face hard. “Consider this your one and only warning.”
Without another word, Bastian walked over to where everyone sat together. A minute later, Silas and Bastian were taking turns throwing darts at a board on the wall while Miriam cheered them on.
Grant took a long sip of his beer as he glanced over to where Finn and Em remained in the booth. He wondered what Finn’s deal was. Breaking someone’s nose because they tried to date your sister sounded more like something Vinny would do—not their cool-headed captain.
But it would make sense if that was the reason Em didn’t date players. Not wanting a repeat of that, she might have thought it was easier to avoid athletes altogether.
Grant would just need to feel out Finn and see if he still felt that way. It was possible that Finn had relaxed since that incident happened. If that was the case, maybe he could convince Em that it was okay to date players.
But he wasn’t looking to date her, was he?
The more he replayed their flirtatious encounter, and the more he observed her through the night, her red hair drawing his eye and her eyes sparkling with laughter as she teased her brother, the more he realized that he did want...something.
Maybe dating, maybe not, but definitely more than one bar conversation with Emmeline. Now, he just needed to find out how to make that happen.
Emmeline
There was a reason people hated Mondays.
Half the class forgot their homework, three kids fell asleep at their desks, one had thrown up all over Em’s shoes, and that was all before lunch. Teaching wasn’t always the easiest job, but Em enjoyed being in the classroom and making a difference in these children’s lives.
But Mondays were still Mondays, no matter how much you loved your job.
With so many of her third graders dealing with struggles too difficult for their age, Em was happy she could be a bright spot in their lives. She just didn’t like being the spot in the middle of the bullseye when it came to projectile vomit. Her students were lucky she didn’t start dry heaving right then and there.
Thankfully, the bell had rung only moments after. She sent her students to the lunchroom with a fellow teacher and had raced to the bathroom.
&n
bsp; After wiping her shoes down with enough sanitizing wipes to clean her entire room, she finally walked into the teacher’s lounge. Frida, who taught art, was already in their usual spot. There was a small splatter of red paint on the front of her plain cotton jumper. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, but her makeup was immaculate enough to put any beauty blogger to shame. The plastic salad bowl in front of her was almost empty.
“I was wondering where you were. It’s not like these twenty-five-minute lunch breaks give a lot of time to gallivant all over campus,” Frida said when she noticed Em walking toward her.
Em plopped down across the table from her and set a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the table. “It’s been a day.”
A corner of Frida’s mouth lifted. “It’s only eleven.”
“Yeah, and I could already use a nap.” Em quickly filled Frida in on the drama from that morning.
When she was done, Frida wrinkled her nose. “And you’re still eating after all that?”
“I think I’m going to fall over if I don’t. I feel like I’m running on fumes today.”
Frida put her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. “Exciting weekend working on lesson plans?”
Em rolled her eyes.
“Wait, don’t tell me.” Frida sat up in her seat. “You spent hours online looking for cute ways to teach the kids about dividing while I got to work on my latest sculpture and have it count as research.”
“For your information, I went out on Saturday night, and stayed out way too late.” Between Silas and Finn’s jokes and following Grant around the bar with her eyes, she’d lost track of time and didn’t realize it was two in the morning until they did last call.
“As your best friend since kindergarten, I know you didn’t have a date this weekend. And last time I checked, Storm games didn’t run that late.” Frida sent a teasing smile at Em before stabbing her fork into another bite of lettuce.
“I ended up hanging out with Finn at City Bar.”
Frida stopped chewing. “You were with Finn?”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, forever.”
“Talk about anything important?”
“Not really. But spending the entire night with him made it easier not to talk to another player.”
Frida started eating again. “So, who weren’t you trying to talk to?”
She averted her gaze as she took a bite of her sandwich and said, “No one.”
“Wait.” Frida set her fork down and stared at her. “This wasn’t just not talking to someone because you didn’t feel like being social. What happened?”
Em pressed her lips together. If she wasn’t so tired, she wouldn’t have been so obvious about it. Of course, she’d planned to tell Frida eventually, she’d just hoped to get through this day first. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I make no such promise, but you’d better tell me anyway.”
She let out a long sigh before she told Frida about how Grant had bumped into her at the game. When she got to the part where they flirted at the bar, Frida’s eyes went wide.
“Is he cute?”
Instead of answering out loud she pulled out her phone, opened Instagram, and typed in Grant’s name. Once his profile was up, she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and slid the phone across the table toward Frida.
A few seconds went by, and Em realized she was still holding her breath while she waited for her best friend’s response. She released it and looked up at Frida.
Frida’s eyes were glued to the screen, and her lips slowly curved up into a smile. “Ooh. I can see why you like him.”
Em reached out and snatched the phone from Frida’s hand. She cradled it to her chest and glared at Frida. “I don’t like him.”
“It’s okay if you do. He’s gorgeous.” She wiggled her perfectly groomed brows.
“He is.” Her cheeks warmed at the admission.
“And you were avoiding him because of your no-dating-athletes rule.”
“Obviously.”
Frida was silent for a moment. “You know that not every guy is Travis, right?”
Travis.
Hearing his name brought back so many painful memories—memories Em had worked hard to forget. Not only had Travis destroyed her heart, he’d made it impossible for her to trust another guy for years. She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead trying to clear her mind.
Frida put a hand on her arm. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s okay.” It had been six years since Travis had shown his true colors. It was time to move past it. She looked up at Frida. “But it’s not just him. Remember Mark in college? Or Damien?” Every athlete she’d taken a chance on was a complete waste of space.
Frida snorted. “Damien was ridiculous.”
“Yeah, he was. But Damien was also a reminder to stay strong in my convictions and not get distracted by a pretty pair of pecs, because there is literally nothing hiding behind them but a self-love that rivals Narcissus.”
“Dang, girl, tell me how you really feel.”
“Don’t you remember how bad that date was?”
“I remember.”
Damien had chosen a restaurant that Em hated and talked about himself the entire time. When the bill came, he insisted that they split the cost fifty-fifty even though his meal cost twice as much. And when they’d discovered Em’s car battery had died, he told her he couldn’t wait around. Apparently, there had been a game on that night, and he hadn’t wanted to miss any of it.
Em had been forced to call her brother to come rescue her. He’d come right away and even took her out for ice cream on the way home. Finn was the perfect big brother who was always there for her.
Her date with Damien had been the last straw. After that, Em had decided no more athletes—soccer players especially. It was a good rule that had protected her heart.
She gave Frida a pointed look. “So you know why the rule is in place.”
“I do.” She shrugged. “Finn’s not like that.”
Em shook her head. “He’s my brother. What’s your point?”
“My point is that not every athlete is a jerk. Finn’s one of the good ones. Maybe Grant is too.”
“I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”
“Well, you know what is worth the risk?” Frida asked, her voice cheery once more. She pulled out her phone and started tapping the screen.
Em’s heart dropped in her stomach. “What are you doing?”
“Someone took their phone back before I could look at all of Grant’s pictures,” she said without looking up from her screen. “I’m gonna finish snooping.”
“Stop it.” Em leaned over the table and tried to grab Frida’s phone.
Frida leaned back in her chair just out of reach. She laughed. “What are you? Twelve?”
“No.” She sat back down in her seat and pouted. Great, now Em was acting like she was twelve. “Just don’t follow him, okay?”
“Too late.” Frida gave Em an innocent look that was anything but.
Em covered her face with her hands. There were so many pictures of the two friends posing together on Frida’s page. If Grant looked at Frida’s profile, he would see Em. Then he’d know for sure that she’d been stalking his profile after meeting him this past weekend.
She was going to kill Frida, but the lunch bell rang before she got the chance.
Em gathered her things from the table and looked at Frida. “Please promise me you won’t play matchmaker and message him.”
Frida set her phone down. “Do you really think you need to say that?”
Em stood up and sighed. Frida always teased about Em needing to get a boyfriend, but Em was ninety-nine percent sure that she would never do anything to embarrass her. “No.”
“Good.” Frida’s wicked smile was the reason for the one percent uncertainty. “Then I’ll see you later.”
Em waved at her friend as she threw away
her trash and walked to grab her students from the lunchroom, determined not to worry about Frida or Grant anymore today—only that her clothes remained puke-free.
The rest of the day was fine until class was done for the day. When the dismissal bell rang, one boy remained in her class. His arms folded on his desk, and his head rested face down on top of them so that Em could only see his blond hair. He was supposed to go to aftercare until his mom finished working in the cafeteria, though this wasn’t the first time he’d stayed behind in her class.
Em took a deep breath before she sat down on the desk beside him. “Riley?”
The young boy sniffed a few times but didn’t say anything.
Em’s heart broke for him. His dad had died last year, and while she hadn’t known him the year before, everyone said he wasn’t the same boy. Based on what other teachers had said, he’d gone from a happy and silly kid to a quiet one who kept to himself.
The quiet kid was the only Riley that Em had known.
She hated that he’d experienced such a devastating loss at a young age. If it was possible to take his pain and make it her own, Em would do it in a heartbeat. But she couldn’t. All she could do was be a consistent presence in his life and offer comfort when he needed it.
She reached out, put her hand on his back and rubbed it in circles hoping to soothe him. Slowly, his muscles relaxed, and the sniffles became few and far between.
Riley pushed up and rubbed the back of his hands over his eyes. His gaze stayed trained to the floor. “Sorry, Ms. O’Brien.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have to be sorry.” She leaned in. “Wanna talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to talk to me, but if you ever want to, I’m always happy to listen, okay?”
Without looking up, he nodded.
She knew that she should send him to aftercare, but he looked like he was barely keeping it together. The idea of him crying and kids making fun of him was too much to bear. “Do you want to stay and help me tidy until your mom finishes up? I can text her and let her know you’re here.”
He nodded again.
“Great,” she said, trying to keep the pity out of her voice. “You can wipe down desks or sharpen pencils. Whatever you want.”
Out of Play: A Sports Romance (Love in the Arena Book 2) Page 3
