There were white twinkle lights slung up ahead around trees in front of a large house-like building on the right. The inn was a renovated farmhouse, like one of those you saw on Christmas cards. From the windows across the front, squares of golden light spilled onto the ground in the front yard. Grace could see crowds of folk through the windows. She slowed Bluegill as she passed a wooden sign announcing the Little Traverse Inn. Thirty-five minutes, only one missed turn, a butt-load of winding roads with no streetlights, and Grace had made it. She’d give herself a high five if she wasn’t driving.

A huge weight lifted from her shoulders when she pulled into the inn’s parking lot. The nerves and worry had caused her to hunch over the wheel where she had stayed the entire journey here. She crept by the entrance that was on the side of the building with two Blues players outside smoking. It was so cold Grace had no idea why they bothered. She waved at them before she circled, looking for a spot. Neither had acknowledged her wave, but meh. She was on a mission that didn’t include nonessentials. Like them.

On her second pass, she realized there were no spots so she parked Bluegill around the back. There was another house there, a driveway connecting the two buildings. She hoped they didn’t mind, but no time to worry about it now. She exchanged her Bogs for her black heels. Grace opened the door a crack to get the dome light to turn on. A cold wind blew in and up her skirt. Brrrr… She yanked down the visor where she had clipped an old mirror and took a minute to smooth her hair and run her fingers under her eyes where the liner had smudged. She jumped out, removed her jacket—dayum, it was cold—grabbed her bag, and slammed the door. She made a silent apology to Bluey as she wobbled across the uneven ground.

By the time she’d made it to the door, the smokers had gone in, and through the door windows she could see the foyer was empty. A deep breath, and she forged ahead. The warmth hit her like a wall. To the right was a cozy room set up with tables with items for the silent auction. To the left were the bathrooms, where she headed to stuff her shoes. They clacked on the tile floor. There was a muffled voice coming over a microphone from the main room. Thank goodness, the award ceremony had already started.

After using toilet paper out of one of the stalls, her shoes fit marginally better. At least they didn’t slip the heel every time she took a step. But gads, they were ugly, an eighties-style pump shoe like her mom still wore. What she wouldn’t give for of pair of sexy, strappy sandals, but the cost was so not in her budget.

Even though it looked crap, Grace had still brought in her oversize bag. She’d be ready for anything that came her way. Stocked again with her wallet with twenty-two dollars in bills, emergency crackers and cheese for hypoglycemia, her last insulin injection, glucometer, along with a small flashlight, notepad, a few pens, scarf, hat, feminine hygiene—even though she didn’t have her period now, but a girl couldn’t be too prepared for that mess—mints, a reusable bag stuffed in a carry sack, a bottle of ibuprofen, small tube of hand cream—her hands always got dry when hunting—hand sanitizer on a carabiner, earplugs, scraps of receipts, her new travel tissue, and coupons for a store they didn’t have in Michigan. She really should clean her purse. Probably twenty dollars’ worth of loose change was at the bottom. But it was a leftover from her life before. For as long as she could remember, she’d been carrying this much stuff “just in case” her momma said.

Then she found what she was looking for. Her lip gloss, barely used and with grime around the outside cap where the stickiness had attracted all sorts of gunk at the bottom of her bag. Surprisingly, her eyes and foundation still looked great. Geez, Junette must have caked it on. She didn’t have any blush so she pinched her cheeks like her momma had shown her years ago, then applied lip gloss over lipstick that had faded the last few hours from eating and brushing her teeth again.

From what she could tell after she stepped out from the bathroom, the tables were packed, all eyes on the speaker. Sounded like they were giving out the award for most improved players for all teams.

The bar at the back was quiet enough, though. She made her way over to the glossy, wooden bar, a service area on the right, a small TV at center. Empty bar stools sat haphazardly along the length, as if the folk who were drinking here before had left abruptly. The bartender had a pint in front of himself that he sipped on once before asking, “What can I get ya?”

Grace didn’t do booze well, full stop. Lesson two learned the other night. Too much sugar had spiked her blood and she was lucky she hadn’t gone hypoglycemic on the crash. But tonight she’d had a big, albeit tasteless, meal before she left. Looked like they’d had one here, too, and she’d missed it. Probably yummy food that she never ate. Plates and bowls with leftovers were still being cleared from the tables by staff. Pity.

“What lite beers do you have on tap?”

The bartender waved a hand in front of the taps, as if to say, “They’re right here, you moron.” Right then. Maybe a glass of wine. That was classier and seemed a bit more feminine. But she also got sick drunk on wine, even one or two glasses. “Can I get a Labatt’s Light but in a wine glass?”

The guy raised his eyebrows at that, but then nodded, “Sure, whatever floats your boat.”

Good. While she waited for him to pour, she scanned the room for a seat. Gillian, Del, and Rory were way up at the front sitting at a full table. The ones surrounding were also full. Only at the rear of the room, the farthest from the podium, was a seat empty at a table sharing with a few older couples. Most likely the Old Boys and their wives.

The bartender set her beer in front of her.

“How much?”

“No cost right now. The Blues have a tab at the moment.”

Oh, goody. She dug a couple bills out of her purse and placed them in a tip bowl with a smile for the bartender who didn’t even acknowledge her. Well, then. Maybe she should take those two dollars back! She definitely could use them. Instead, as inconspicuously as she could, she slunk over to the empty chair at the far table and whispered, “Is this seat taken?”

The older woman next to her shook her head. “It’s all yours.”

As soon as Grace sat, she sighed with relief. At least she’d made it. The woman next to her looked over again and patted her knee. Grace took a sip of her beer from the wine glass. Luckily, there was a place setting in front of her that hadn’t been used with a full glass of water, although the ice cubes had melted. She took a gulp of that, too. Dayum, she was thirsty.

A round of applause as the latest award winner took the stage area. She’d missed what it was for, but one of the Blues, Jake, accepted the framed certificate with a shake of both coach’s hands. He had to walk past Rory on his way back to his chair. Even though Rory hadn’t seen Grace, she saw him. As usual, he looked great. Very handsome as he quietly sat next to Gillian. He didn’t kid and laugh as much as the other boys, but she didn’t mind. His kindness and moral compass made up for most everything else.

“Now,” Coach said in his booming voice, “it’s time to acknowledge the Blues players that have shown commitment to both the team and the club. Those who have gone above and beyond to make every match—to the Blue Coats.”

A rowdy cheer rose again. “I’d like to remind everyone what an honor this is, so once I’ve acknowledge them, give them lots of love and recognition.” A dramatic pause from Coach before he announced, “This year’s Blue Coats are…” Shaun handed him the plaques, which Coach then read from. “Dave, Josh, and Jake.” Everyone applauded as they walked to the front where Coach handed them a plaque and Shaun helped them on with the blue blazer with the Blues logo. Grace clapped loudly with the rest of them. She whistled through her teeth. When the lady next to her covered her ears and bent away toward her husband, Grace stopped. “Oh, sorry, just so dang excited!”

Rory had stooped in his chair, his shoulders sagging, elbows on the table. Perhaps he was hoping to be a Blue Coat, too. He hadn’t mentioned it, but that would make sense from what they talked about the other night.

“That’s it for this year, but perhaps with the introduction of our women’s team…” The girls at another table cheered loudly and so did Grace. “Then we might have some Lady Blue Coats next year.” When the noise died down, Coach continued, “Which leads me to the next award. Not really an award, but more a recognition. We have a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate for the volunteer of the year for the Blues. That goes to Rory Cameron for volunteering as the women’s coach.”

Rory perked up, but still sat in his seat. Coach motioned him forward, but it was only when Del gave him a shove did he get up and accept the certificate. The girls, all seated together except for Grace and Jenn, pounded on their table and hollered out to him. Not to be outdone, Grace gave him a standing ovation. None of the others rose, so it was then that he saw her.

She just knew when they locked gazes. He was the one for her.

His mouth quirked up in a hint of a smile, and he lifted his hand in a sort of half wave, but Grace still clapped, even as the applause in the room had started dying down.

He looked uncomfortable up there, his hands shoved in his pockets, the certificate crinkled up and sticking out. With a nod to both coaches, he stepped away. Instead of making it back to his table, he kept moving toward the back of the room where Grace was. Everyone followed him with their eyes until Coach spoke up again to end the awards ceremony and thank everyone for coming. Or something along those lines. Grace had stopped listening, her focus only on the man walking toward her.

Should she meet him halfway? What should she do? She stayed put but pushed back her chair and walked around the side of the table where they met.

“Howdy,” Grace said when he stood in front of her.

“You made it.”

She huffed a laugh. “Barely, I had some car troubles.”

“Oh no, seriously? That’s pish. I was wondering…”

“Yeah, it sucked, but I’m here now.” When Grace spread her arms out wide to elaborate on the fact, Rory’s gaze skimmed down her outfit. Shoot, she should’ve ditched the shoes. Her first chance, she would.

She was taller in her heels, so the top of her head now came to his chin, and it gave her a clear view of his eyes. Since he’d locked his gaze on hers, and since she wasn’t good with that kind of intensity, she took his arm and pulled him to the side of the room for a bit more privacy.

“I did knock on your door to get you, but there was no answer.”

She stopped them in a corner and faced him. “I know. I fell asleep, like dead-to-the-world sleep. I didn’t hear you. So…are you sad about the Blues jacket?”

Rory looked down to the floor. “A bit. I’d like to be recognized for all my effort. From anyone. Ya know?”

“Well, I admire your determination.”

“Yeah?”

Grace raised her glass. “Here’s to Rory, best back end this side of the Mississippi.”

Rory laughed. “Just back, not back end. That would be your arse.” Grace laughed then, too.

Someone had put on music, a song that Grace wasn’t familiar with, but when she saw Gillian by the stereo system, knew it must be something eighties. Behind them, the boys were moving the tables along the wall to make room for dancing.

“Did you get something to eat?”

“I did at home. I think I missed dinner here.”

“I’m sure they could make you up a plate if you want.”

“Oh geez, no, it’s okay.”

They were quiet for a moment, both looking outward at the commotion of the party.

“Let me get something for you.”

“Honestly, Rory, I’m fine.”

“Please, just let me.” He walked away and then turned on his heel. “Don’t go away.”

She shook her head. “I won’t.”

Rory smiled, a genuine one that made her heart go pitter-patter. Dayum, if she wasn’t going to turn all mushy and girly like her sister.

Del joined Gillian at the stereo, and some sort of argument ensued, most likely about the music choice. Looked like Gillian won since Del walked away and the music didn’t change. It was upbeat and catchy, similar to the music Gillian had lent Grace the other day. Obviously, it didn’t matter to the others as the makeshift dance floor filled within moments.

Others mingled and chatted with drinks around the perimeter or at the bar. Grace checked for Rory, but he was already on his way back with a platter in his hand.

“What’s this?”

Rory set down a bowl of popcorn and some raw veggies and hummus. Internally, she gagged. She’d had enough of both to last her a lifetime. But she didn’t want to be rude. “That’s so nice of you, thank you.”

“That way you’ll have something healthy on your stomach while you are drinking. I like your style, by the way.” Rory said, pointing to her wine glass.

“Thanks.” She smiled. Grace could tell he was trying to make small talk, but it wasn’t necessary. Even though he didn’t know it yet, she just enjoyed being with him. Next to him. Even a slight touch of their arms as they shifted their weight. That’s all she needed right now.

The boys were jumping around to a song she’d heard on the radio. “500 Miles” or something like that. Peppy.

“These guys are Scottish, did you know?”

Grace grabbed a carrot, dipped it in the hummus, and brought it to her mouth, Rory watching her the whole time. “I didn’t, actually, but you can kinda hear their accents.”

Austin jumped onto Jake when the chorus hit again and sloshed beer everywhere. “Du-da-dun-dun, Du-da-dun-dun.” Everyone was singing at the top of their lungs. Some of the older folk had moved farther away, most likely to converse and be heard.

At the end of the song, Grace and Rory cheered for the others. And then a slow song came on. This one she did recognize from the CD. “Time After Time,” by some chick named Cindy.

They watched as rugby players, still holding onto their beers, pulled their girlfriends in close and swayed them back and forth to the music. The girls from the women’s team were out there, too, and some of the single lads had joined up in a line, their arms around each other like at the beginning of the game. They rocked back and forth too, making fun of the romance of the song. Luckily, few knew the words or they would have ruined it. Grace wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was one of her favorites off Gillian’s CD. And that Cindy chick looked like someone she could hang with. Like she didn’t give a rat’s ass. She did her own thing. Grace was sure that singer carpé’d her diem.

Rory turned to her and opened his mouth, but then clamped it closed again and stared out at the others. Grace smiled to herself. Sure, she could take the initiative, since that was her modus operandi of late, but she wanted to see what Rory would do. Where his heart was placed in the big scheme of their short romance. She knew what she wanted, but didn’t know what he wanted.

She sighed when he finally asked, “You wanna dance?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Yeah, sure, why don’t we give it a go?”

She set her beer down on the table, and he did the same before taking her hand and leading her to the others. He took her in a formal dance pose, one hand at the small of her back, the other clasping hers. Looking over her shoulder, he said, “You look nice tonight.”

“Thanks, you look very handsome yourself.” Grace pinched back a laugh that was bubbling up from her stomach. Poor Rory couldn’t even look at her. Well, she’d do something about that. She still had her stupid heels on, but glad for it now. She pulled her hand out of his and looped it around his neck to meet the other. She snugged up close to him, almost in a hug, so that they barely moved to the song.

“I’m glad you’re here, Grace.” He spoke just at her ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of her body.

“Me, too.”

“I mean, not just at this party here, but in Traverse City.”

“Oh, well, me, too.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you live with us. Del and me.”

Grace smiled again. Lots of gladness going around. “I think we work, don’t you?”

“The three of us?” Rory now rubbed up and down her back, dipping each time a bit lower to her butt. Grace pressed her chest and hips into his so that there was barely any space along their entwined bodies.

“No, just the two of us.”

“Me, too,” he said, and then kissed her neck. Just a soft nip, but it was everything.

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that.” Del, who was dancing with a clinging Jenn who wore a nasty frown, her face all puckered with animosity, wagged a finger at them, but Rory only turned them away behind another couple. The song was coming to an end, but if it were up to Grace, she’d have the song on replay so she and Rory could stay tucked up together like this forever.

He kissed her neck up to her ear, where he sucked gently on her earlobe for only a second before his mouth came to hers. Just momentarily, Grace cringed at the PDA, and lawd, would her brothers give her grief if they could see her now, but the thought was gone in an instant.

As the last note rang out, their kiss ended, but even when couples started moving from the floor and another fast dance tune came on, he still held her there, not letting her go, not relieving her a moment from his heated gaze.

Who was this Rory? Her roommate, yes. Her friend, very much so. Her coach. All this to Grace already. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Aye.”