Page 22 of The Interception (Southern Sports Sweethearts #2)

Chapter Sixteen

Layne

I’m almost positive that Ender has no clue his good friend has feelings for his sister.

Frankly, it’s probably good that he doesn’t know, considering the circumstances, but it seems Leo isn’t acting on his feelings either.

Also probably a good thing. Leo seems like a solid man, someone that would be a nice match for Sarah Beth, but she’s nowhere near ready to consider dating, let alone getting involved with someone who is friends with her brother.

Still, I can’t help but notice that Sarah Beth seems at ease with Leo.

Since it’s really none of my business, I shift my focus back to Ender who is, willingly, changing up a few things in his chili recipe to please me.

He’s also flirty, which should make me giddy, but instead, it confuses me even more.

“Here, taste this.” He spoons up some of the chili and offers it to me. I reach for the spoon, but he moves it closer to my mouth. There’s something about him feeding me that I’m not ready for, so I back up and take the spoon.

Without the cinnamon it’s so much better.

It’s not my brother’s chili, that’s for sure, but Ender’s is just as good in a different way.

It’s more smokey and dark than Andrew’s…

whose chili could strip the skin cells right out of the inside of your mouth.

I’m a girl who likes spicy food, but even I sweat halfway through a bowl.

“This is really good. Can we add some fire-roasted tomatoes? I think that will add another layer of flavor and really kick it into first-place worthy.”

Ender chuckles. “You do realize my original recipe helped me win first place already, right?”

“So you said.” I drop the spoon in the sink and grab up a few dirty dishes and utensils.

“We should probably get over to the stadium. This is due in about an hour.”

I check my watch. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Oh, can never get tired of hearing that, especially from you.” Ender leans close to nudge me with his shoulder while rearranging dishes in the drain. “I’ll get it into containers while you finish up here, okay?”

Now he wants to check everything with me.

I feel bad about the small disagreement we had earlier, but I was annoyed.

No one likes to keep feeling insignificant, and when it comes to cooking, I keep getting lambasted with little things that make me feel inadequate.

It’s probably a me problem, and I’m taking everything too much to heart.

Wouldn’t be the first time I let my feelings get away from me.

“All right, I’m done. I guess Leo is hanging out for a bit. Wanna ride with me or take separate vehicles?”

“Uh, I’ll drive so I can head back to the house after. That way you can spend some time with your sister and friend.”

Ender puts down the container and steps closer. “You know you’re welcome around here, right?”

My cheeks warm under his intense gaze. “Sure, but I’ve been around a lot lately. You probably want some time to relax without me bothering you.”

“You don’t bother me.” He reaches for a tendril of my hair and I panic. I dodge his advance and grab the containers of food.

“We should probably—”

“Layne.” His statement is almost a reprimand.

I shift under his gaze, too worried that if I look into his eyes, I’ll be…disappointed? More confused?

“What do you think this is?”

I can’t help it. My eyes snap to his and I see him pointing between the two of us.

My eyes narrow and forehead bunches, unsure what I’m supposed to say.

I don’t know what it is. How can I define something that doesn’t make sense to me?

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, something we have already well established.

“We’re friends.”

He arches a brow and steps closer. I’m backed against the counter, holding a bowl of pasta in one hand and a bowl of chili in the other.

Oh yeah, and they’re a little hot. Still, they’re nothing compared to the heat that attacks my cheeks when he slides his hand to my waist. My mind rushes back to that move he pulled at the sports bar when his teammate was flirting with me.

I tried to tell myself he was being a good friend, protecting me from a bad guy, but I’m not so sure I can convince myself that’s true anymore.

“Is that all we are now? Friends? Because this tension says we might be past that particular definition.”

My lips part and the faintest gasp of shock slips free. His eyes dart to my lips, then back to my eyes as if asking permission.

“Uncle Ender!” Lula’s sweet squeal shocks him away from me faster than a scalded dog. He practically leaps across the kitchen and shoves his hand into his hair.

Clearing his throat, he turns his attention to the living room. “What’s up, sweetness?”

Blinking doesn’t clear my head, so I rush out the front door in hopes that a blast of autumn air will help.

On the porch, I suck in as much as I can until my lungs burn, then slowly let it out to refocus.

Holy moly, that was intense. I don’t even have time to work through it before Ender comes outside with his keys.

“You sure you don’t want to ride together?” He’s still flustered, too. Was it an accident? Was he acting on an urge and regrets it?

I don’t know, but I do know I need to think.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to head home after the bonus round.”

“Sure.” His faint whisper is laced with disappointment but no argument. He waits for me to get settled before getting into his own truck.

At least the drive to the stadium will give me some more time to compose myself and get into game mode.

“All right everyone, if you would please find a seat, the judges are ready to reveal the results of the bonus round.” An organizer, a different one from the one who announced the bonus round, claps her hands at the podium.

We’re in a different conference room as well, one that has a small stage at the front and a few rows of chairs. I can’t help wondering what a football stadium needs with all these rooms, but then again, I never spend much time at the stadium where Andrew plays either. Maybe it’s normal?

People settle in, and Ender takes a seat beside me.

I busy myself with chatting to other contestants, if only to give myself some space from my partner, who, with each passing day, is worming his way deeper into my heart.

Somehow. I’m not ready to admit that I have a crush on him.

I completely, unabashedly do, but if I admit it to myself, then I also have to tackle what that means.

It's too much to process with everything on the line. It has to wait.

“You ready for this?” He leans back in the chair in a stretch then offers me his hand, palm up.

Though I mean to smile and look away, not send him signals, I end up sliding my fingers over his palm and interlacing our fingers.

He squeezes them and pulls me a little closer. “You okay? I mean…after…you know.”

I nod so I don’t puke. I’m not okay. I’m freaking out because we need to win this thing, he needs to do well at his games, I don’t know what to do with my life without a restaurant, and when the competition is over and I have to go back to Savannah…

my stomach twists. This is ridiculous. I’ve known the guy less than two weeks. I should not feel this way about him.

“I want to preface by saying it took the judges a long time to decide their favorites. I mean it when I say they truly enjoyed everyone’s dishes, but we had to put them in order.

So, without further ado, I’ll post the scores on the screen behind me.

” She presses a button and the screen lights up with the results.

We slipped to third place.

And guilt takes up a chair right on my chest. Maybe we could be in first if I had let Ender take the lead? He’s the one who has won six times, after all.

“Hey, we’re still in a great spot.”

I jerk my head up to look at him. “How did you know I was…” I fade when he palms my cheek.

“I just…do.” Ender shrugs and brushes his thumb under my eye. “We’re fine.”

“I should have listened to you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. We’re a team, and your opinion matters as much as mine. Come on, we’re free to go. Let’s brainstorm our last meal and make sure it blows them away. We’ll make it, Layne. I know we will.”

“Your confidence is…well, it’s something.” I chuckle and he drops his hand.

“You can call it what it is. A little cockiness.” He smiles and leans in. “Don’t pretend you didn’t think that when we first met.”

“Oh, I liked you just fine. Then you opened your mouth,” I tease. I stand and wiggle free. “I think we should do something with chicken. I have some ideas if you want me to email them to you.”

“Or we could go somewhere and talk about them.” He runs his fingers from my elbow to my hand, tickling over my palm.

I adjust my hair and stop in the aisle.

“I can think better when I’m alone. If you don’t mind, I’d like to think it over, call my sister-in-law and update her, get a decent night’s sleep. You know, alone things.”

“Are you saying I’m distracting?”

“You are like a sledgehammer to the brain, Ender.”

His eyes go wide and I realize he’s taken it the wrong way. Before he feels the need to defend himself, I grasp both of his hands and tug him forward.

“Yes, you distract me. That’s okay, but…I’m…” I chew my lip, seeking the right words. “I’m…trying to figure out how distracted I want to be.”

Realization dawns on him, relaxing his frame.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do some brainstorming, too, and we can email or text, whatever works for you.

I should probably spend some time with my family and Leo, too, like you said.

” He shrugs, then shock widens his eyes.

“Not that you can’t be there. I meant it when I said I like having you around.

So do Sarah Beth and Lula. And Leo. Well, he doesn’t matter. He doesn’t live there, but I’m saying—”

“Ender,” I chuckle. “I get it. I suggested it, remember?”

He gives me one nod and a sigh. Am I making him nervous? Me?

“Okay. I’ll walk you to your truck then.”

No, not that again. Walking me to my truck means another goodbye, another tense moment of will he or won’t he, and the complete opposite of me having a minute to figure out if I truly do want this…whatever it is.

“Oh, uh, actually, I wanted to finish my conversation with Hannah before I head out. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Ender releases my hands and gives me a friendly hug.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Then he awkwardly parts and wanders down the aisle, glancing over his shoulder once as if he is physically incapable of leaving without his partner tucked to his side.

I smile and turn away, determined to stick to my guns.

I will not run down the aisle and clutch him like a lovesick puppy.

Though my resolve sticks and I don’t make a fool of myself, I can’t deny how he makes me feel.

And it scares me.