Page 98 of Drop the Mitts

Country slung an arm around Jenna and kissed her temple. “You don’t want to drop mitts with this one. She’ll smother you with that big heart of hers.”

Tyler groaned. “You’re getting soft.”

Emma scoffed. “Stop! I love it!”

Across the room, Suraj, already three drinks in, hollered, “All I know is that if I ever go through a custody battle, I want Grace Fairbanks in my corner.”

There was a chorus of agreement. Grace held up her glass with a modest smile, cheeks flushing pink. André leaned in and murmured, “He can’t have you.”

She grinned, then nearly bit her cheek as he slipped a hand up the inside of her thigh under the table.

Needing a distraction, she picked up her phone and went through the last texts from her mom.

I can’t say I’m thrilled not to see you, but glad you’ve found good friends there.

How long are you staying?

Is there someone in particular you’re staying for??

André snatched her phone, and Grace yelped. “Don’t—I’ll tell her eventually?—”

He held her arm down and lifted the phone for a selfie, then handed it back with a wink. “I didn’t press send. Up to you.”

Grace looked at the photo of them. André’s cocky smile, her reaching for him. She looked . . . happy. Relaxed. Like she was about to strip off her swim cover and jog into the waves with her friends.

She loved it.

Grace hit the blue arrow, and André squeezed her thigh. “We look good together.”

The doorbell rang just as Rhonda sliced into a second tray of Nanaimo bars.

Jenna turned, but Country stepped past her, brushing his hands on a dish towel before opening the door.

“Hey!” Country boomed. “Come on in!” He flung the door wide and clapped the man at the door on the back.

Grace’s eyes widened as Brady walked in. Fly stood and gave him a fist bump. Curtis steered him toward the food. André appeared at Grace’s elbow, a bar in hand.

“Didn’t know he was coming,” she whispered.

“It was pretty obvious he needed something.” André placed a hand on her back.

Grace turned to look at him. “Is he joining the team?”

He shook his head. “Brady’s only twenty-seven. Can’t play in the league yet. But he’ll practice with us. Train. Be around the guys.” André glanced across the room. “Sometimes you just need a team.”

Her chest pinched. She watched Brady laugh at something Suraj said, a little uncertain but leaning in.

Grace looked back up at André, her heart doing something dangerous in her chest. “I was wrong about you, you know. You’re husband material.”

André scoffed. “Whoa, Fairbanks. Chill. I get that you’re ovaries are ticking, but?—”

“Ugh, please. Don’t start an argument just so we can make up later.”

He smirked, wrapping her ponytail around his fist and giving a gentle tug. “But it’s my favourite game.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Eighty-twenty?”

She fought a smile. “Ninety-ten if you get me more potato salad.”

“And if I include a sweet bun?”

Grace gave a breathy laugh. “I like your odds.”