The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(100)

I turn my attention back to the domestic arrivals gate. In the distance, one golden head bobs over all others. My cheeks pull tight with a grin. Slowly, Gray comes into view. His gaze meets mine. As always, I’m suddenly breathless, joy and anticipation fizzing like champagne through my veins.

I’m practically dancing in place, watching him walk to me, his smile as big as mine. He quickens his pace until he’s almost jogging. Those long legs of his eat up the distance between us.

Then his hand is wrapping around my neck, drawing me as close as I can get—which isn’t very.

“Ivy Mac,” he whispers a second before he kisses me. And I’m lost. Heat surges along my skin and my heart races with glee. I sink into his kiss then take over, tasting him, sucking his plump lower lip. His scent, his heat, the strength of his big body, all of him, flips a switch within me, like I’m not fully living unless he’s near.

“Cupcake,” I say when we part. “I’ve missed you.”

We’ve only been apart for a long weekend, but I always miss Gray when he isn’t near. I would have gone with him, but I’m not up for flying right now.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he looks down at me. “Missed you too, Mrs. Grayson.”

“How are Anna and Drew?” I ask between the little kisses he keeps giving me. Last night, Gray called to talk about the fact that Drew had just played the best game of his career. Since I was his co-agent, I’d been on a conference call with Drew’s GM before the game had even ended. The media was going crazy over his performance, dubbing him the Comeback Kid. Now that his leg had fully healed, he was once again in top form.

“So f*cking proud of him,” Gray says into the crook of my neck. He breathes in deep. “Mmm, you smell fantastic, Mac. You been baking?”

“A tray full of warm Sacked Gray donuts are waiting for you at home.”

“Love when you talk dirty to me.” He gives me a grin. “How’d it go with Mitchell?” Brian Mitchell was a hot young quarterback out of Stanford who was going pro this year. I’d met with him to discuss his future in the NFL. And while it wasn’t the easiest thing being female and a sports agent, I’ve been making headway, learning from my dad and forging contacts as I go. I love the hell out of my job.

“He seemed interested,” I say. “Well, he liked the plans I mapped out, anyway.”

“As he should,” Gray says with his unfailing confidence in me.

“I assured him that Dad was on board.” When Gray frowns, I give him a look. “Dad and I are partners, after all.”

Surprisingly, we’re a pretty awesome team. Dad does the majority of recruitment and contract negotiation, while I mostly deal with career planning and player maintenance—which really means I soothe ruffled feathers and try to keep athletes’ heads on straight.

“Still,” Gray mutters. “You shouldn’t have to assure the little shit. You’re the bomb, Mrs. Grayson.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “You can’t blame him for worrying right now. And it was my concession. One I’m happy to make.”

Gray’s scowl fades as he glances down. Not caring of the people walking past, he drops to his knees before me to cup my belly. Though I vaguely resemble a wind-filled sail, his big hands make me look small. A gentle smile graces his face as he leans forward to kiss my stomach.

“And how’s my Baby G? You being good for Mommy?”

A dull thud vibrates my insides as Baby G kicks. Gray chuckles and gives the spot another kiss. “Yep, Daddy’s home. All is right with the world once more.”

I run a soothing hand over my side. At eight-and-a-half months pregnant, I’m ready for the little guy to come out. Fi called us crazy when we decided to have a baby so soon. But something had happened to us after the miscarriage. A seed of want had been planted. So, yes, we’re both just starting out in our careers, but we also want to start a family. And because we’ve decided to live life how we want, when we want it, we decided not to wait any longer.

It might be difficult. But we’ll manage.

“You don’t find it ominous that Little Dude here kicks your face every time you put it near me?” I ask, smiling down at Gray, who continues to baby talk against my belly.

“You’re just jealous that he responds to my voice,” Gray says happily.

“He responds because your voice is so loud,” I retort, teasing him.

“I’m not the one who’s loud. Have you heard yourself when you—”

I end that line of conversation with a hand to his mouth. Grinning like a fiend, Gray jumps to his feet. People are starting to notice him, or rather who he is. I’m pretty sure a few camera phones went off when he was kissing The Belly. It’s the price of fame. But Gray doesn’t let it bother him. He simply grabs his duffle and takes my hand in his.

“Uncle Drew gave us a little hat for Baby G.” Gray directs this toward my belly as we walk along. “I told him we’d use it for target practice come toilet training.”

“You do realize that I practically grew up in New York, and that’s like my home team?”

He halts and gives me an outraged look. “Hush your mouth, Mac. Little Dude might hear you.”

I roll my eyes. “Won’t matter if he did. Because our favorite team will always be the one you’re on.”