The evening air was warm, fragrant with gardenias blooming along the Donovan garden wall. Sabrina sat close beside Brace on the back steps of his house, nursing a cup of tea he had insisted on making for her. She had stopped questioning the little things he did lately—the way he took her hand instinctively, how his eyes searched her face like she held answers he didn’t know he needed.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said quietly.
Brace looked over, eyebrow raised. “What were you expecting? Arrogant jock who only cares about contracts and trophies?”
She smiled softly. “Exactly that.”
“Well, I am a little arrogant,” he teased.
She nudged him with her shoulder. “But you’re also kind. Thoughtful. A little overprotective.”
He grinned. “Is that a complaint?”
“No,” she said, then looked
