Suddenly I imagined Mikey and Rico out behind the pool maintenance shed with Rico on his knees for Mike.
“Don’t go there, Raine,” Mikey warned.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I just…”
“You’re bored. And you’re turning your own life into a telenovela. I get it.”
I reached for an apple and bit into it. “I think we should fly to Florida for the game.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Coach already told you you’re not welcome. Maybe if you weren’t a controlling bastard who can’t stop trying to wave his injured arm around while yelling at poor Brent Little, he wouldn’t have taken such a strong stand. It took four days for you to get your voice back after that, and you’re lucky you didn’t damage your shoulder again with all that wild gesturing.”
“His feet were stuck in molasses,” I countered. “He finally gets to start against the Denver Broncos and he can’t even get off the starting block.”
“You’re not the coach,” he tried reminding me.
“Mpfh.” I took another bite out of the apple. “Fine. We’ll throw a game-watching party here instead.”
Mikey handed me a glass of icy-cold lemonade. It tasted amazing. After growing up in Colorado, I still hadn’t gotten used to Houston “winters.” Heat in early December was just plain wrong.
“All of your friends are going to be in Florida. It would just be the three of us, and Sam probably has to work. Tell me what you want for sushi and I’ll put in the order.”
He ripped a sheet out of his notebook and passed it to me with his pen. While I jotted down the stuff I wanted, he disappeared down the hall toward his bedroom. I took the menu and paper to Sam. When I got back to the kitchen with our orders, Mikey had a folder sitting by my seat at the island.
“Pick one of these. We’re spending Christmas in Colorado.”
I blinked up at him. “We’re what?”
“Your mom and dad want to see you.” He didn’t look up at me as his fingers flew over the meal-ordering app on his phone.
“Too bad. I don’t want to see them. Do you have any idea how many times my father has asked me why I haven’t just sucked it up and gotten back to work?”
Mikey looked up, his soft brown eyes twinkling with knowing humor. “That’s why we’re not staying with them. We’re going to rent one of these cabins and hole up for the rest of the month.”
My heart started racing. “A month? Are you serious? I’m not leaving for a month during the season. I can’t. I’m the Rigger’s starting wide receiver.”
“You can and you will. And right now, Brent Little is the Rigger’s starting wide receiver.”
The reality of his words hit me in the gut. I hated letting Coach down. If I could have sold my soul for a working arm, I would have.
Clearly Mikey was being ridiculous. “I still have to go to the games.”
His eyes bored through me again. “You’ve been banned until your arm is better.”
I sputtered. “Not true. That was one game. One. And… and it’s just taking me some time to get used to sitting the bench, that’s all. I’ll be fine for the game against Jacksonville.”
He shook his head and nudged the folder closer to me. “Nope. Coach said to get you the hell out of town and out of his face before your shoulder is, and I quote, not the only injured part of your anatomy. So pick one.”
I firmed my jaw and tried returning his laser stare. “I will not.”
Mikey laughed and stepped closer to me, leaning in until our noses were almost touching. “You will. You and I both know what Coach says goes, and you and I also both know I run your schedule. Where I tell you to be, you go. And I’m telling you to go to the mountains.”
Mikey stepped back and pointed to the folder. “You’ll get to see snow. You’ll get some peace and quiet. Hell, maybe you can even get some reading in. There’s a new John Meadows novel out, and I asked your friend Julian to send me a list of the ones he’s read recently. Besides, all the places I picked have a gym, a sauna, and a hot tub. You can keep in shape while we’re there. We can even call in a trainer if you want. Coach gave me someone to call in Denver for a physical therapy referral.”
I grumbled and opened the folder. He kind of had me at the mention of snow. Other than away games in colder locations and the odd short visit to my parents after the season ended, I hadn’t seen snow in years. I would love a chance to walk in the woods, hear the familiar crunch under my boots, and feel the crisp bite of cold air on my face.
“You’re going with me, right?” I asked, thinking a few weeks away with just my… Mikey would be pretty nice. “What about your catering clients?”
For the first time in our conversation, he avoided meeting my eyes. “It’s not a problem.”
I reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing the eye contact. “How so?”
Mikey swallowed. I tried not to fixate on the movement in his throat, but the creamy skin was too tempting to look away from. “I’m… kind of… done? With the catering thing, I mean.”
I tilted my head as the words tried to make sense. “What do you mean, done? Why?”
He bit his bottom lip and shrugged. “I kind of got a book deal.”
I damned near fell off my stool. “You what? A book deal? For a cookbook?”
Mikey’s grin was sudden and overwhelming. I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly affecting me this way, but when he smiled full-on, it made me feel like I’d just scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl.
“I pitched the idea to an agent a few months back, and she liked it. She took the idea to a few publishing friends of hers—editors, I guess—and they all wanted it. The idea sold in an auction? I don’t really understand how that all works, but it was for a lot of money, so…”
My selfish ass was more distracted by the fact he hadn’t told me he was doing any of this than the fact he’d just announced very exciting news. “Wow, Mikey. That’s incredible. Why didn’t you tell me you’d pitched it?”
His cheeks turned pink, and his eyelashes flitted a little in a combo deal of Mike’s nervous tells. “Um, I assumed it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”
He was oblivious to his own talent. I reached out with my good hand and clasped one of his.
“That’s fantastic! Wait… so, when you said one day when you publish a cookbook… you already knew this was happening.”
“Well, not really. I didn’t have the offer yet. And, honestly, it hasn’t really sunk in. I still feel like it’s all a dream.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was the closest I was allowed to come to the giant, crushing hug I really wanted to give him. Early on, my agent had warned me against anything inappropriate with “staff,” and since Mikey was my only real staff anymore, that meant no sneaky physical touches that could be misconstrued. Markus didn’t have to worry. Coach V. would kick my ass and then beat me some more if I even thought about touching his baby boy. No, I couldn’t touch Mikey, despite how much I may have wanted to.
But I could look my fill. And I did. All the fucking time. Mikey happened to love swimming and lying out in the sun. I took every opportunity to do the same whenever he spent time by the pool.