Page 105 of The Check Down
I shrug off my coat and lift my hair off my heated skin.
The players trickle out, each celebrating with their loved ones. When Beau sweeps Paige into his arms and spins her around, she drops her head back in pure joy.
Then my man rounds the corner.
Leaving the Laceys’ cheers and whistles behind, I run straight to him. When I spring into his body, he bands his arms around my back and under my bottom to hold me close. I loop mine around his shoulders, my chest shaking with happy sobs.
“Congratulations. You were amazing.”
His voice is thick, full of emotion. “Thank you, baby.” Then, lower and next to my ear, he says, “Did you keep count?”
With a laugh, I press my lips to his. He loosens his hold, and I lower my legs, but he keeps an arm around me as his family crowds us to congratulate him with hugs and back slaps.
That night, after we celebrate with his family at dinner, Griffin fulfills his side of his ambitious, naughty bargain. Three orgasms later, I collapse into his arms in our bed—bodysated and heart full.
After the euphoria from Sunday’s win fades, it’s back to the grind for Griffin and me. He’s in the zone, getting ready for wild card weekend, and I’m juggling a new batch of students who are taking their first English course along with former students now taking the second course. It always takes a few weeks to adjust to the spring semester, but I’m struggling more than usual this year.
“Time for tea, dear?” Helen’s poofy white head of hair appears in my doorway.
With a glance at the clock, I sigh. It’s mid-afternoon, and though I’d normally be with Griff at this time on a Tuesday, I’m on campus. The Blues are technically off today, but the guys reported to the practice facility this morning to game prep anyway.
I nod at Helen. “Sure. I’ll meet you in the break room.”
She’s prepared everything by the time I join her. The table is littered with mugs of hot water, our tin of tea, sugar packets, a small carton of creamer, and a box of shortbread cookies. She selects her flavor—lemon and ginger—and I pluck out the last package of peppermint.
“How are things with that handsome fella of yours?” she asks over the rim of her mug.
“Good. He’s busy getting ready for Buffalo. Did you watch the game on Sunday?”
She scowls into her tea. “I don’t want to hear about football. Tell me about being in love.” Her sour expression quickly disappears, and her eyes shine behind her glasses.
“It’s wonderful,” I confess. “He’s amazing. We get along really well. He makes me laugh every day.”
“Ahh, it’s good to see you so happy. I was worried about you before he came along, you know. Didn’t think we were going tokeep you. Especially after you mentioned not liking Memphis. That’s better now?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “It’s better. I have friends now, and Griffin…”
She tilts her head and opens her mouth, but she’s cut off when Trinity, the department’s student worker, rushes into the room.
“You and Griffin didn’t break up, did you?” Her voice is laced with panic, her eyes wide.
“No…” I drag out the word as my heart rate kicks up.
“Oh, thank God.” Huffing, she sinks into an empty chair. When she notices my stunned expression, she leans in and waves her phone back and forth. “You haven’t seen?”
I swallow back a wave of trepidation. “Seen what?”
A few taps, and she hands her phone over.
My stomach caves like it’s taken a punch when the image registers. It’s a picture of my boyfriend with another woman on his lap.
But further inspection lessens my anxiousness. A bit.
It’s an old picture. In it, Griffin’s hair is longer on top and slicked back, and his face is younger. Not as many crinkles around his eyes. The beard is longer and less tidy. And the gray T-shirt he’s wearing sports the Tors’ logo on the pocket.
Once my brain is satisfied that it isn’t a recent shot, I take in more details. The woman perched in his lap is gorgeous and thin. Her long, dark red hair is a striking contrast to pale, almost translucent skin. The high cheekbones and pointy chin and pouty, full lips stand out on her thin, oval face. She’s wearing a short skirt and peek-a-boo fishnet stockings that tease glimpses of her long legs. And her corset-type top pushes her full breasts up under her chin.
I don’t need to look at the handle to know who this woman is, but I do it anyway.