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I let him in a little, and so did he, quite literally.
He could’ve called Sophie and told her to come get her girl, but he didn’t. He practically carried me in from his front porch, comforted me with a blanket and hot tea. He hugged me, for fuck’s sake! And then, when I asked to sleep in his bed, he didn’t even hesitate, he just took me into his bedroom and tucked me in.
Why the hell do my eyes feel prickly?
Not now, Greer. Not today.
Today is for being strong and figuring your shit out.
After a few tentative sips, I place the mug back on the counter and reach for the cream he left out for me. “Sometimes, I just need a hit of the undiluted variety at first, and then I can perfect the cup… get it just right.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I glance up as I stir, satisfied with the shade of brown in my cup.
“You might be the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
Leaning a hip against the counter, I smirk. “If you think stirring coffee is so captivating, you should see me mix a martini.” Bringing my fingers to my lips, I kiss the air. “Chef’s kiss.”
“You’re also the biggest smartass I’ve ever met and that’s saying a lot.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, picking up the fork that he set out on a napkin—such a great host, I think, but don’t say. Mack doesn’t need any help with his ego. “I studied really hard in school to get this smart.”
He laughs. “I bet you did.”
“How about you? Did you finish college or did you get drafted before that?”
Still smiling, Mack replies, “Can you believe I’m one of the rare ones who actually got a degree? Played all four years. Graduated with a business degree.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Impressive. I feel like most of the players I’ve interviewed either got drafted out of high school or while they were still in college.”
“Most do. I think it’s something like twenty-percent of players who actually finish college. But I knew being a catcher, it was likely I’d get injured and have to retire early and I couldn’t put all of my eggs in one basket. I needed to know there was something else for me outside of baseball.”
“That’s really admirable,” I tell him. “And not to mix business and… whatever this is,” I say, waving a hand around the kitchen. “But I’d love to do a special interest interview with you. I think fans would love to know more about Mack Granger and you mentioned needing to clean up your reputation with the media. I think that could help.”
Mack’s demeanor shifts and I watch as his eyes turn from light and playful to dark and guarded.
“I don’t like doing interviews like that,” he mumbles, taking his plate and scraping it off into the sink.
Usually, someone like him craves the spotlight and thrives during interviews. It’s always the cocky, self-assured ones that enjoy being the center of attention. So, him saying he doesn’t like personal interviews is a surprise.
“It’s a great way to spin your own narrative,” I push, not liking the way he’s shutting down on me. “If you don’t like what the media is saying about you, give them something else to talk about.”
Placing his hands on the counter, he levels me with his dark eyes. “Which is what I was proposing to you the other night at Owen and Sophie’s. If I’m going tospin a narrative”—he throws my words back at me—“then I’m going to do it in my own way, something I’m comfortable with.”
Okay, Mack Granger doesn’t like personal interviews. Noted.
“I think it’s time to cut the bullshit, Greer,” he continues. “You need a place to stay, that’s more obvious now than a week ago. I need someone to go to a few events and on pseudo-dates. We enjoy each other’s company.” That last part comes out a little less confident and he winces a little. “I mean, most of the time we can get along, that’s more than I can say for any other woman. After last night’s impromptu trial run, I realize I don’t mind you in my space and that’s… well, that’s huge. Because before you, the only woman I’ve ever let spend the night here was my mom.”
Wow, so many revelations in so little time and my head could have its own gravitational pull, but I see his point and after last night, I realized I don’t mind being in Mack’s space either. I actually like it. I feel safe here and when I’m with him.
“I’ll do it,” I tell him before taking another bite of my eggs, which are delicious by the way.
This is a first. I’ve never had a man make breakfast for me.
I’ve had them order breakfast and I’ve had them take me to brunch, but never have they cooked something with their own hands.
Mack’s eyes grow wide and his mouth opens slightly, like he’s searching for words.
Another first, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve rendered Mack Granger speechless.
