The Deal(88)

“You were standing out here the whole time?”

“Naah, I grabbed some coffee and wandered around for a bit. Just got back now.” He glances past my shoulder into the music room. “Is rehearsal over?”

“Yep.” I take the cup he hands me and pop the plastic lid. “We have a cellist now.”

Garrett’s lips twitch. “Mmm-hmmm. And I bet you’re positively thrilled about that.”

“More like indifferent.”

A sharp voice snaps from behind me. “You’re blocking the door, Hannah. Some people have somewhere to be.”

Rolling my eyes, I move away from the doorway and allow Cass and Mary Jane to exit. Cass doesn’t spare so much as a look at me, but when he notices who I’m talking to, his blue eyes fly in my direction.

“Cass, have you met Garrett?” I ask politely.

He warily turns back to the tall, strapping hockey player at my side. “Naah, I haven’t. Nice to meet you, man.”

“You too, Chazz.”

My duet partner stiffens. “It’s Cass.”

Garrett blinks innocently. “Oh, sorry—wasn’t that what I said?”

Cass’s nostrils flare.

“So I hear you’re singing a duet with my girl,” Garrett adds. “I hope you’re not giving her any trouble. I’m not sure you know this, but my Han-Han has a bad habit of letting people walk all over her.” He arches one dark brow. “But you wouldn’t do that, right, Chazz?”

Despite the pang of embarrassment his words evoke in me, I’m also fighting hard not to laugh.

“It’s. Cass.”

“That’s what I said, no?”

There’s one long moment of very obvious macho posturing as the two guys stare each other down. As I expect, Cass is first to break the eye contact.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Come on, MJ, we’re gonna be late.”

As he drags the sweet blond girl away like a piece of luggage, I turn to Garrett with a sigh. “Was that necessary?”

“Fuck yeah it was.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

Our eyes lock, and a burst of heat goes off inside me. Oh boy. I know exactly what he’s thinking right now. Or rather, what he’s thinking about doing.

Me.

I’m thinking the same damn thing.

I might have told Allie that this thing between us would fizzle out, but at the moment, it’s blazing even hotter than it did last night.

“My place?” he murmurs.

Those two words, low and husky, make my thighs clench so hard I’m surprised I don’t pull a muscle.

Rather than answer—my throat has clogged with desire—I take the coffee from his hand and proceed to dump both our cups in the trashcan behind him.

Garrett chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”





27




Hannah


I have no idea what was said during the car ride to Garrett’s townhouse. I’m sure we talked. I’m sure I saw the scenery whizzing past the window. I’m sure I even breathed oxygen in and out of my lungs like a normal person. I just don’t remember any of those things.

The second we stumble into his bedroom, I loop my hands around his neck and kiss him. Forget baby steps. I want him too bad to go slow, and my hands fumble for his belt buckle before his tongue even enters my mouth.

His husky laughter tickles my lips, and then strong hands cover mine to stop me from undoing his belt. “As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, I’m gonna have to slow you down, Wellsy.”

“But I don’t want to go slow,” I protest.

“Tough cookies.”

“Tough cookies? What are you, my grandmother?”

“Does she say tough cookies?”

“Well, no,” I confess. “Nana swears like a sailor, actually. Last Christmas she dropped a motherf*cker bomb at the dinner table, and my dad nearly choked on his turkey.”

Garrett barks out a laugh. “I think I like Nana.”

“She’s very sweet.”

“Uh-huh. Sounds like it.” He tilts his head. “Now can we stop talking about your grandmother, Ms. Mood Killer?”

“You killed it first,” I point out.

“Naah, I just changed up the pace.” His gray eyes go molten hot. “Now get on the bed so I can make you come.”