Romancing the Grump (Appies, #4)

by Jenny Proctor

You stole my parking space. I’m face-to-face with a beautiful woman—one I’ve thought about more than once since I first met her a few months ago—and that’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. You. stole. my. parking. space.

“He totally just looked up here. Also significant: Nathan is a defender. That kind of hotshot scoring move isn’t exactly his M.O.” “Which means what?” She gives me a pointed look. “Which means I think he was trying to impress someone.”

Summer Callahan does not find me the least bit intimidating. Instead, she seems to find joy in sparring with me, even provoking me. I like it way too much. Pretty sure that means I’m in serious trouble.

“I could have handled Dominik,” I say, though I’m anything but disappointed Nathan is here instead. “I don’t doubt it,” he responds. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Am I a strong, independent woman? Absolutely. Does it feel amazing to know this man has made an effort to protect me? To demand better behavior from his teammate? Hell, yes.

I guess it’s good one of us isn’t scared—because she scares the hell out of me.

“Kiss me,” she repeats. “If you want them to know you’re spoken for, then show them you belong to me.”

We make eye contact, and I smile, lifting my hand to the glass. He stops directly opposite and lifts his glove to the same spot. And then he smiles. Not the little half-grin I’ve seen whenever I tease him, or the annoying smirk he gives his teammates when he thinks they’re being ridiculous. This smile is wide and real and it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and it’s possibly the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

In the past forty-eight hours, my relationship with Summer has gone from zero to sixty. We were friends before—sort of. Now, the entire world thinks we’re together, we’ve kissed, we’re sharing a bed, and she knows about my brother, something I hadn’t even told my teammates before the reporter brought it up and forced my hand. I don’t need a rule book with this woman, I need a survival guide.

“I don’t…want you to go,” he says, and my hand stills. “I just…think you should go because of how much I want you to stay.”