Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Don’t thank me. I’ve been loitering outside for an hour, hoping to meet them. And…see you, of course.” He spun the football on his palm, adding, “They’re pretty cool.”
“I think so too. Look, I, um…I don’t know how much I’ll be able to see you this week, but—”
“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t expect you to shuffle your calendar for me. Do your thing. I’ll be around. I’m happy to be a random after-school football diversion if that works best.”
That sounded safe and smart and—
“Come for dinner tomorrow,” I blurted. “Six o’clock. I’ll barbecue ribs and veggies and make a salad…or something.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. Like two magnets trying hard to resist attraction.
“I’ll be there.”
I finally broke away. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well.”
I snickered at his lascivious eye-waggle. “You too.”
The kids were flying high, excited to tell their friends and classmates about meeting a real live football player. And when they found out Silas had accepted a dinner invitation, they were beside themselves.
“Dad, we have to make something really, really good,” Ivy declared. “He’s a celebrity, you know. Ribs are fine, but I’ll make a special rub for it. Or what about fish? Do you think he likes salmon? Chicken is safe…a little boring unless we spruce it up with a good side dish or a fancy salad. We have to think about it. Obviously, we can’t just feed him lettuce.”
I could have told her that Silas would have been perfectly happy with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup from a can, but the idea of preparing a meal for a guest thrilled my burgeoning chef, who’d hurried off to shower and wash away all traces of makeup before gathering a stack of her favorite cookbooks to do some research. I probably hadn’t dodged the makeup quandary, but I took the respite and figured I’d broach the topic another time.
For now, it was nice that we all had something to look forward to.
Silas.
CHAPTER 13
SILAS
My exposure to anyone younger than eighteen was limited to Val’s baby, Gigi, who was just learning how to crawl, and occasional family-themed events with the Devils. Sure, I’d played my fair share of tag, keep-away, and Marco Polo with my teammates’ kids, but I was kinda nervous to have dinner with Cooper and his minions.
I shouldn’t have been. Ivy and Chase were cool kids with big energy.
“I made salmon, couscous, and green bean gremolata for dinner,” Ivy announced as she opened the door. “I was going to serve a kale salad as well, but the chopping takes forever and I sort of ran out time.”
“Phew! I hate kale,” Chase huffed, plucking at the lacing on a football. “Do you like it, Silas?”
“Uh…yeah, but I like green beans more,” I replied, unzipping my jacket. “I came with gifts. Wine for your dad and Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs for you guys. I didn’t know if you were peanut butter people, but—”
“Heck yeah, we are!” Chase whooped.
“Thank you.” Ivy smiled and motioned for me to follow her into the great room.
Chase was at my heels, football still in hand. “There’s a kid in my class who’s allergic to nuts. We can’t bring peanut butter to school, or he’ll like die of…peanut butter fumes or something.”
I scratched my nape and pursed my lips. Allergies were serious business, but Chase’s delivery was unintentionally pure comedy. Thankfully, the sexy lumberjack with twinkling eyes got there first.
“So you brought peanut butter fumes with you?” he asked in greeting. “Wine or beer?”
“We have lemonade too,” Ivy piped in. “And bubbly water.”
“Wow. I haven’t had lemonade in forever. I’ll have one of those, please.”
“I’ll get that for you,” Cooper said. “Chase, you’re on table-setting duty.”
Chase scrunched his nose in a universal “ugh” face. “I was going to ask Silas if he wanted to play catch first. We’re gonna lose the light, Dad.”
“Then I’d get going if I were you.” Cooper’s tone brooked no argument. Chase wisely left the football on a barstool and got to work with only a little minor grumbling.
I took a seat at the island and swiveled toward the great room, noting the kid detritus on the coffee table that hadn’t been there a few days ago—iPads with colorful cases, a library book with a wizard on the cover, and a set of playing cards.
In the kitchen, light jazz music drifted through a portable speaker on the counter, Ivy stirred a pot on the stove, and Chase carried a stack of plates into the adjoining dining room while Cooper poured lemonade into a tall glass. The scene was so homey, it almost didn’t seem real. It was a startling contrast to the quiet that had filled the space when the kids weren’t here.
“Thank you.” I raised the glass of lemonade in a toast and grinned at my host. “And thanks for the invitation.”