Page 26

Allie

A nother week goes by, and Austin still isn’t in the game.

The doctors examined his ankle and said he ought to wait one more week, and Jack didn’t even question it.

Still, when I see the frustration on my son’s face as he leans on crutches on the side of the field, it takes all my strength not to go to Jack and talk to him.

He hates when parents interfere, and I do trust him. But it’s really hard.

I stay on the sidelines with the drill team doing my best to assist Liv, but my eyes are fixed on Jack as he walks over to Austin to talk to him.

“L-E-V-I! Levi, Levi, he’s our guy!” The cheerleaders work out a new chant behind me, and my teeth clench when I see them jumping up and down shaking their pom poms.

Then, Levi jogs past them onto the field and gives a little wave, and they fall together in giggles. Rolling my eyes, I exhale a soft growl .

Austin stands on crutches beside the cooler, and his jaw is tight as he watches, too.

“It’ll turn around when he’s back in the game.” Liv is at my side, putting her arm around my shoulder. “Try to keep him encouraged.”

“It’s hard when everybody’s obsessed with the new kid in town.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I reach for it absently. I almost drop it when I see a text from “Sir” on the screen. Sir is how I saved Jack’s number in my phone.

Liv gives it a glance, but she walks back to where the drill team is lining up with their hands on each other’s waists.

“I want to see those kicks all the way to the nose!” She shouts out orders, while I turn away to see what Jack has sent me.

Sir

I know this is hard, but trust me. I’ve got this.

It’s very hard, but I do trust you.

Sir

I’ll see you tonight, but I won’t stay long. Busy day tomorrow.

Game day.

Sir

I think about you. All the time.

Happiness sparkles in my stomach, and I try to hold back the grin splitting my cheeks.

It won’t make sense for me to be smiling like I won the boyfriend lottery when my son is on the sidelines feeling forgotten.

Same.

Sir

Bring me a beer tonight, so I can touch you.

Another thrilling zip shoots through my middle.

I’ll bring more than one.

A whistle blasts, and Garrett yells at the defensive line. My eyes lift, and I see Jack watching me from across the field. Adrenaline surges in my muscles, leaving me weak.

I want to wave. I want to skip over to where he is and throw my arms around him. But I can’t do any of that.

All I can do is give him a little smile and return to the drill team. Just a few more hours, and I’ll bring him all the beer I can carry.

“What are you doing with these guys?” I enter the kitchen at Cooters & Shooters and walk over to where Dylan is all suited up in her mask and plastic gloves.

“I’m using them for tonight’s Dare dish. Cubanelles stuffed with salsa and cheese.”

Pulling my chin back, I frown at her. “And what else?”

“What do you mean?” She grabs another large green pepper, slicing it down the center.

“I mean, like, is there another pepper in there? What’s the warning?”

“Cubanelles are hot! I bit into one this morning, and I had to eat two cups of vanilla ice cream to stop the burning. I almost stuck my tongue in the coconut oil!”

Her eyes are wide, and she carefully scrapes the seeds from the thick, fleshy fruit.

“Okay, gross, but I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Craig sashays into the room, jumping to the side when he sees me holding up one of the green peppers.

“What’s that?” He grabs a towel, holding it up like a shield. “Why are you touching it with your bare hands? ”

“It’s a cubanelle .” I tilt my head at him. “It’s the Dare Dish tonight.”

“Why are you saying it all weird like that?” Dylan fusses, waving a hand. “Cubanelles are spicy!”

Craig’s eyes meet mine, and we both frown for a half second then we say it at the same time. “You’re pregnant.”

“What!” Dylan’s voice goes high. “Why would you say something like that?”

We both close in on her at the table, and she takes a step back, holding the half pepper she’s preparing to stuff.

“Cubanelles are at the bottom of the Scoville scale.” Craig sounds like a cop questioning a suspect. “It’s the first pepper that has a heat index above bell peppers.”

“You’ve dropped like three hundred thousand on the scale!” I made that up, but it’s close to true.

Dylan blinks fast, looking from us to the pepper and back again. “Logan’s baby hates peppers!” Her tone is horrified.

“You’re pregnant!” I throw my arms around her, jumping up and down.

“You’re going to have a little pepper-hating baby just like me!” Craig throws his arms around my arms, and we’re both jumping up and down.

“I thought this pepper was so hot.” Dylan’s voice is dejected from the middle of our cuddle dogpile.

“It’s okay, little mamma.” Craig pets her head, stepping back. “You can return to eating Satan’s fruit in nine months.”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs his arm. “Don’t tell anybody. I’m supposed to be keeping it a secret. Logan’s going to kill me.”

I give her another hug. “He must be so happy!”

“What are we going to do about this dish?” Craig frowns, pointing to the rows of sweet peppers waiting to be baked. “It is not daring at all.”

“We’ll tell them you made it.” I grab two pans, sliding them into the oven. “We’re taking a break from the off-the-charts heat of Pepper X and habaneros. ”

“Nobody’s going to like that,” he grumbles, thumbing through his playlist. “What should I play to make it up to them?”

My lips twist, and I can’t resist. “What about ‘Lips on You’ by Maroon 5?”

“An oldie but a goodie.” Craig taps on the front of his phone. “I’ll follow it with ‘Ride’ by Chase Rice. That should make them happy.”

“So no warning? Just dig in?” I look at Dylan as she pulls off her plastic gloves and eye shield.

“I guess not. Unless the warning is for Logan.” She snorts a laugh. “His wimpy tongue would probably be burned by this one.”

“Hardly.” Craig shakes his head. “Even Kimmie Joy can eat this dish.”

We put the final pans in the double oven and set the timer. I dig through the cabinets for paper plates and napkins. No need for ice cream tonight.

The buzzer sounds, and we pull out the sheet pans, arranging the mild offering on serving trays.

“That’s a strange scent.” Craig frowns. “What is it? I can almost place it.”

“It’s making me think of breakfast…” I look up at him, tilting my head.

Stomping noises come from out front, and I glance at the clock. “Nevermind. Let’s get out there. It’s already going to be a tough sell.”

“It shouldn’t be!” Dylan argues. “Everyone can eat this one, I guess.”

Craig grabs his blond wig and the three of us march out carrying two trays each. Cheers and clapping fill the large dining room, and we go to the picnic tables arranged in the corner near the small bar.

Jack leans on the bar beside Zane and Garrett, and my stomach tingles. Craig puts his trays down, going to the PA system to link his phone to the Bluetooth. I can hardly breathe, waiting to see how Jack will respond when the song plays.

“Tonight we’ve got something for everyone!

” I announce as the crowd waits. “Craig has prepared a special family recipe for us, stuffed Cubanelle peppers that should be safe for all to enjoy!” A grumble moves through the crowd, but I push on.

“Come on up and help yourselves, but please only take one at a time.”

I nod at Craig, who’s behind the small bar ready to put on the music, and I slowly make my way around the crowd to where the brothers are standing.

The kids have come in from the pool table area, which is separate from the rest of the dining area. I’m not paying attention to them as I quickly grab three Coronas out of the cooler and pop the caps.

Dylan is at the serving table smiling like everything is normal, and Logan walks over to put his arms around her waist and kiss the side of her neck.

The first strains of the song begin as I approach Zane and Jack holding the beers, as the girls hop onto the small bar and start popping their hips. Our eyes lock, and his gaze darkens.

Heat flows down my arms like syrup, and I hand a beer to Zane.

“Hey, thanks, Allie.” He smiles, but my eyes are on his brother’s.

I don’t even care if I’m being so obvious. Holding out the bottle, he looks down at me, blue eyes moving around my face, down my neck, before returning to mine.

He remembers the last time we played this song. He remembers what I look like in only my black lace bra and thong. On my knees.

He knows what I’ll do for him.

Everything…

Lifting his hand, he takes the bottle, and our fingers slide together. My breath burns in my chest, and I almost shudder from the contact .

Turning, I walk away from him, in the direction of the screen door against the back wall. The crowd closes in behind me, and non-pepper eaters are grinding and dancing. Kids are jumping up and down with their hands over their heads.

I step outside into the cooling air, but nothing can cool the fire raging beneath my skin. The song continues, and I wait, my mind counting down the seconds. I don’t even know if he’ll come to me. I came out here on impulse.

Seconds slip past, and the song is past the midpoint. He hasn’t touched me or spoken to me or appeared outside my house since that night. I’m not the one in charge here, he is. What makes me think I have any control over him or this situation or even how he feels?

My heart sinks in my chest, and I’m so stupid. I have no reason to cry.

Reaching for the door, I gasp when it opens in my hand. His tall frame passes quickly through the space, and he takes me by the wrist, pulling me away from the building.

A laugh whispers from my throat, and I quickly push the silly tears away. He pulls up quickly, turning me so my back is against the big live oak tree at the edge of the play area.

He steps closer, surrounding me in his distinctive scent of rich leather, warm woods. Before I can speak, he cups my cheeks in his hands, covering my mouth with his.

I moan on a breath, opening my mouth to meet his. His tongue invades, taking mine and curling it with his. He turns my head like he always does, devouring me, kissing every part of me, pulling my lips with his, raking his teeth across my jaw.

“You came,” I gasp, doing my best to hold his arms, his waist, as he kisses me like a starving man finding food.

“I couldn’t stay away.” He groans, moving his mouth to mine again in another consuming kiss. “It hurts.” Another kiss. “Physical pain…” Another pull of my lips, another swipe of his tongue. “My sexy little secret. ”

My eyes roll back, and I gasp at the heat pooling between my thighs. “Why are we a secret again?”

“For Austin.”

“Oh, right.” I’m trying to remember why Austin would care. I’m sure he wouldn’t. “For how long?”

Warm lips trace the top of my cheek, and he lifts his face to meet my eyes. His are so full of affection. “Eight more weeks.”

“Fuck.”

He smiles. Lifting his chin, he looks out at the water, and he actually exhales a chuckle.

I hiccup a breath, ordering myself not to weep with joy.

His gaze returns to me, and I grip his wrists to keep from melting into a puddle on the spot. “It’ll get better. He’ll be back in the game next week, and everyone will see how good he is. Maybe we won’t have to wait that long.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

One more kiss, one more hit of pure bliss, and he releases me. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Wear that white pleated skirt to the game.”

“Okay.” I watch him slowly backing away in the direction of the restaurant, where the sounds of Maroon 5 pour from the open windows. “And I’ll sleep in your jersey.”

“I’d like to see a picture of that.”

“Maybe you will.”

Shaking his head, he bites his bottom lip, and I exhale a soft whimper. Damn, he’s so fine.

Then he pulls the door open and disappears.