Page 21 of Hutch (Minnesota Raptors #2)

“Speaking of…why aren’t you at practice?” I ask Will.

“Knee injury. I have to sit out until I’m cleared. Mitch said they were going to be late. Coach wanted them to hit the weights after practice. Big game tomorrow.”

Back home, injury or not, players were expected to be at practice and to suit up for games. I always thought that was stupid, so at least college ball got it right.

“You’d think he’d not push them so hard the day before a big game.” Collin peeks into the oven. “You sure this is going to be good?”

“Hopefully.”

“Coach is a hard ass, but we win games because of it.” Will looks mournfully at the pizza boxes. “You sure I can’t just have one slice?”

“Sure, but then you’d answer to Jenny.”

He swiftly walks back to the couch.

Hutch laughs. “No one wants on her bad side. She’s got a mean bite to her bark.”

“How much longer you out?” Carson sits beside Will and snatches the remote from him to turn it to a sports news network.

“PT said a few weeks, three at the most.”

Carson nods and zeros in on the hockey game they’re talking about.

Hutch is engrossed as well, so I keep my post by the stove.

Pizza can easily burn and as much as I loved the taste of the cottage cheese pizza crust, it got a little darker than I’d like.

It’s why I turned the heat down this time around.

Fifteen minutes later, Jenny and Dylan come back downstairs, neither looking upset. I hope they worked everything out. She sniffs when she comes to stand by me.

“Smells good.”

“Or it’s the Papa Johns.”

“Could be.”

“Everything okay?” I nod toward Dylan who’s standing by Hutch.

“Yes. He planned to tell me after the game tomorrow. Said he needed to focus on one thing at a time. I get it.”

“But you still wish he’d told you before Hutch blabbed it?”

She nods.

“Men are stupid at the best of times, downright ignorant at the worst of times. At least according to Nana and my mother.”

“Party in one hour!” one of the football guys roar as they come in through the front door, followed by another ten or fifteen guys. The girls pull up the rear.

My queue to disappear upstairs. Well, as soon as I get the pizza out of the oven.

Which should be about now. Checking it, I’m right.

I grab a towel and pull it out of the oven, the gooey cheese all melty and yummy.

I collect the salad and the Parmesan cheese.

I’d grated most of the cheeses last night so I wouldn’t have so much prep work today.

Thankfully, I’d made a large tomato salad. It might be enough.

“That looks like pico de gallo ,” Hutch remarks when I put it out on the counter.

“It’s not, though. No onions and mostly different spices. I grew up eating this in West Virginia. It’s simple, but delicious. Cost effective too.”

“So what else do you eat in West Virginia I’ve probably never heard of?”

“Fried green tomatoes.”

“Isn’t that a movie or something?”

“It is, but it’s also a food.”

“What you just throw tomatoes in a pan or something?”

“Or something,” I murmur. That might actually be something he could eat if it’s done without wheat flour.

“What else?”

“Hmmm, let me think. Fried potatoes, beans, and cornbread are a staple. Then we have chow chow, red eye gravy, lettuce and onions in hot oil, fried corn, pickled corn, anything with ramps…should I go on?”

“No. I do want to try some of them though.”

“Most of those would derail your diet in five point two seconds flat.”

He snorts. “All the good things are bad for you.”

I take the pizza cutter out of the drawer and slice the still hot pizza. “There, everything is ready. Can you help me open up the pizza boxes to set up please?”

“You know, yours looks better.”

“That’s because those have been sitting for a while. I’ll admit I prefer pizza from an actual pizza place than my own. If I had a pizza oven, then maybe I’d change my mind.”

“Can we eat?” Will’s voice carries through with so much hope, I laugh.

“Yes, we can eat.”

He’s up and in the kitchen faster than anyone. Shaking my head, I give him a paper plate. Jenny dared anyone to use actual plates we’d end up having to clean.

“Nope, Daisy and Jenny gets first dibs. They did all this.”

“I just ordered pizza. Daisy cooked.”

“Still,” Dylan says and hands her a plate. “You did more than the rest of us.”

“Are you going to go hide out in your room now?”

“I planned on it.”

“Want company?”

If I say no, I’ll have to see that stupid look of disappointment he’s sure to wear and oddly, I don’t want to be the reason for it. “If it means getting you out of my hair faster, then sure.”

He grins like he just found a hundred dollar bill but doesn’t do much else aside from loading up his plate with food.

I tell everyone they’re on cleanup duty and go upstairs, very aware Hutch is right behind me.

I do leave the door open, however. I usually shut it when I know a party is going to be starting, but I want that buffer of an open door.

“So, how does it taste?” I ask as I get a bottle of water out of the mini fridge for Hutch and a can of cherry Dr. Pepper for me.

He picks up one of the slices and takes a huge bite. A low moan rips out of him and he closes his eyes. “Oh my God, this is so good!”

Laughing, I sit down on the bed. “Try just the crust and let me know what you think. I tinkered with the recipe I found.”

Wiping his mouth with a paper towel, he sits at the bottom of the bed. “Is there any recipe you don’t tinker with?”

“My grandmother’s recipes. You don’t mess with perfection.”

He tears off a piece of the crust and pops it into his mouth. He chews and I can tell he’s trying to identify what he’s tasting. I know it’s a little odd, but I think it’s pretty good.

“What’s it made from?”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s good, better than good really. You can’t even taste a difference when you’re eating the whole thing.”

“Its base is low fat cottage cheese.”

“Say what?”

“Cottage cheese. It’s a rip off of a Keto recipe. I just added some spices and coated it with garlic infused oil.”

“Cottage cheese? That stuff is foul.”

I giggle, surprised I’m still capable of the sound. “Then why are you stuffing your face?”

He hangs his head. “Damn. I’m going to have to eat cottage cheese and say it’s good.”

My own pizza is cold, but you know what? Pizza is good hot or cold. Doesn’t matter. I’ll eat it. I’ve even been known to eat day old pizza left out of the fridge. Judge me all you want. It’s still good.

We’re quiet while we eat, but he’s looking around my room, taking in everything from the photos of my family to the overflowing clothes basket.

Am I embarrassed I haven’t washed clothes and you can see a bra hanging down out of the basket?

Nope. I work and I go to school. I haven’t had time to wash clothes yet.

And let’s be real. If this boy hasn’t seen a bra before, then I’m Mother Teresa.

“Room looks good. I didn’t really pay attention last time I was here.”

“It’s a room.”

“Hey!” Jenny pops through the doorway carrying two plates. “Thought I’d bring you guys a piece of this cheesecake before Dylan and Collin devour it all. People are starting to arrive for the party too, so I’ll close the door on my way out.”

She’s being such a little shitter. But I do hate the noise from the parties and I don’t trust some of the drunks to not try and make their way upstairs either.

As much as everyone tries to keep people out of my space, they can’t watch the door up to the attic every second, especially during a loud party with a house full of people.

“Thanks.” Hutch puts his paper plate on the bed and takes the new ones from Jenny. She hands over two forks, winks, and leaves us alone, firmly closing the door behind her.

Shitter.

“Well, go ahead and try it.”

“It smells so good.” He doesn’t waste another word and instead shovels a large forkful into his mouth. He groans out load. “This shit is good. Sure you don’t want to be a chef?”

“Nah, I’m all good.” I taste it myself and he’s right. It’s good. I think I need to bake it just a little longer next time. It’s not quite as wobbly as it should be. It’s at least set though.

He polishes off his large piece and then eyeballs mine. I’m full so I hand it over. I filled up on pizza. Nice, regular pizza full of yummy fatty glutton goodness. I’m a food whore. I admit it freely. While I might not have made the pizza, it’s still good pizza.

He throws our plates in the small trash can I have sitting beside the desk and then plops back down on the foot of the bed, turning to stare at me. He has such open, friendly eyes. They’re gorgeous really, but it’s the simple gutlessness that draws me in. So unlike Joseph.

“So, Miss Daisy, whatcha got planned for tonight?”

“Uh, probably studying and catching up on my reading for the week.”

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Will you come to my game?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please?”

Damn those guileless eyes of his.

“It’s cold.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Why is it so hard to tell him no?

“I’ll even loan you my sherpa wool hoodie to wrap up in. Warmest thing you’ll ever find. Mom gave it to me for my birthday last year. It’s my most prized possession.”

“A hoodie is your most prized possession?”

He nods. “Sure is.”

“Is it the same one you gave me before?”

“No. That one had sherpa wool, but it was a lighter lining than my favorite one.”

Any warmth is better than no warmth.

“So, will you come? I’ll drop tickets off for you and Christa and whoever else wants to go. Jenny will be there.”

I know Jenny will be there. She’s been dropping hints that I should go all week.

“If I get sick again, I’m never coming to another one.”

“Deal.”

He grins cheekily and it’s so infectious, I laugh.

He’s cocky, but not in a bad, arrogant way.

It’s actually endearing and quite dangerous to my heart.

I don’t want another relationship where I end up hurt and my heart bleeding on the ground, broken and shattered into a million pieces. He has the potential to do that.

“Now, what say we watch a movie or something? I don’t feel like wondering around downstairs in all the noise.”

“I need to catch up on my reading.”

“I’ll keep the TV down low so you can read.”

“Fine.”

He grins again and it actually thaws a little of the ice wall I’ve built around myself. I let him stay instead of pushing him away like I usually do. I don’t have the emotional stamina to deal with those thoughts, so I pull out my homework and start on that while he channel surfs.

I hope I’m not making a mistake again.

But time will tell.