Page 20

Chapter Twenty

KADEN

“ I ordered food,” I shout toward the bedroom.

It’s ten in the morning, and I’ve done nothing this week but have sex with Frankie and go to physical therapy.

Usually I hate the off-season because it’s just the drudgery of maintaining my physical form without the fun of game week.

This off-season, in particular, has been endlessly long due to my season-ending injury and subsequent surgery, but Frankie is making this time feel like an actual vacation.

Not sure what I’d do without her. Good thing I won’t have to find out. We’re getting married soon, and that’s that.

Frankie pops her head out. There’s a towel over her hair, and her skin is flushed from the hot water. She looks edible. Despite having just had sex, my cock stirs. Down, boy. “I could have made something,” she tells me.

“Have to give Brooks something to do.”

“He runs a three-star Michelin restaurant. He probably has plenty to keep him occupied.”

“Trust me, if I wasn’t asking him to feed me, he’d be offended, and the next poker match, I’d be subject to an inquisition of whose cooking I was eating and how he is sure it’s trash and how that’s probably okay with me because I have trash tastebuds.” I mock shudder.

Frankie comes out from the bedroom and leans against the doorjamb, a faint smile on her face. “Seems pretty specific.”

“Last year I ordered takeout from a rival restaurant because they had a lamb pasta dish that sounded good. Brooks noticed I didn’t make an order and called around and found out that I’d been cheating on him. It did not go over well.”

“So you’re the cheating type?” Her eyebrows go up.

“Oh, no.” I hold up my hands. “I’m a good boy. I do everything that I’m told.” I walk down the hall. “Don’t you remember? You said, ‘Harder, Kaden,’ and I rocked my dick into you so hard the top of your noggin would have hit the headboard if I hadn’t put my hand up.” I place my palm over her head.

Her hand comes up to push at my chest. “Hold that thought for twelve hours.”

My brows crash together. “Twelve hours?”

“If we make love now, I won’t be able to walk, and I need to be functional because I’m meeting the girls later. We’re going over Luna’s wedding plans.” Frankie backs away quickly and shuts the door in my face.

I lean my forehead against the wood and listen as she moves about the room. “Take notes for our own wedding.”

“Sure.”

That “sure” doesn’t sound as convincing as I’d like. I half-think Frankie believes this is still a charade we’re putting on so she can close the Jasper metal deal, but once we’ve said our vows, it’ll be real enough for her then.

Frankie emerges about the same time as Brooks arrives with lunch.

“It smells great, but you didn’t have to deliver it yourself.” I try taking the brown paper sack from Brooks, but he shakes me off.

“Where’s Frankie?”

“I’m right here.” She waves from behind the refrigerator door. “I was just getting water. Gosh, what did you bring? It smells amazing.”

“It’s a cheesesteak.” He starts unloading the bag and places hoagie buns overflowing with thinly sliced steak, cheese, and toppings on the table.

I cock my head to the side. “Is the cheese, steak, and peppers made out of cheese?” Brooks is famous for his deconstructed food where a stalk of broccoli is made out of a piece of bread and mounted on a wedge of lettuce made out of the foam of the broccoli.

“No.” He shakes his head, almost frustrated with what I’d asked. “It’s a cheesesteak. Eat it.”

When Frankie and I don’t move fast enough, he barks, “Now.”

We’re at the table and have the hoagies in our hands in the next second.

“Do you think my food is weird?”

“No. It’s great.” I’m halfway done with the cheesesteak. It’s so fucking good that my eyes are about to roll into the back of my head. Frankie looks like she’s about to orgasm. I frown slightly. Am I jealous of a sandwich?

“Slater is ghosting me again.” Brooks interrupts my thoughts.

“Is it because of another man? I can go with you to beat him up,” I suggest.

Frankie clears her throat but I shrug in reply. I’m a “let’s hide the body” kind of friend. I set my sandwich down and get to my feet.

Brooks places a hand on my shoulder. “Better I do this myself.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have slept with the most famous food critic in town,” I call after his retreating back.

“She asked me to, and I didn’t know who she was at the time. Critics are supposed to be anonymous.” He slams the door behind him.

“Fair.” I return to my seat.

“What was that all about?” Frankie wants to know.

“A few weeks ago, Brooks was out of town getting pitched to be on a cooking show. He was at a hotel that this food critic, Slater from My Favorite Feeds ?—”

“Oh, I love her TikToks.”

“Anyway, Brooks is not on social media, so when he ran into her and she was sad for some reason, he bought her a drink, and then she asked him to take her upstairs and that’s that.”

“And now she’s mad at him?”

“I’m not sure. She took off before Brooks could get her name or number, and he spent a lot of money tracking her down. I don’t know if she knows that he knows who she is yet.”

“But she would know he was Brooks Neal of The Plate.”

“Yup.”

“Complicated.”

“It is. Unlike us.” I wink. I reach for her plate and feel something snap in my shoulder. My eyes go wide before the pain washes over me like a wave taking me under. “Fuck,” I hiss. “I gotta call Doc.”