He smiled, actually enjoying that. “It’s a guy thing.”
Wyatt started laughing. So did Noel.
Savannah was trying to hide a grin.
Mia was just staring at me, a blank expression on her face. Then she announced, for everyone to hear, “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you. It’s what I do. I’m a bitch. Char’s a bitch, too. Be glad you never actually met her.” And with that said, she pulled away from Wyatt, grabbed her beer and went out to the backyard.
“Well, then.” Savannah giggled softly, resting her head on her boyfriend’s chest.
Wyatt belched out a laugh, grinning widely. “And on that note, I better go make sure my ‘bitch’ girlfriend is okay.” He opened the fridge, grabbing another beer, and saluted the rest of us. “Onward, my merry pirate friends.” He backed up, and just before he was going to step out onto the patio, he held his beer up to Stone. “Fucking kill ’em on Monday! KINGS RULE!”
A huge cheer echoed around him from the entire house, “KINGS FUCKING RULE!” And the second verse to the chant, “THEY DON’T TAKE NO COURT! RULE KINGS RULE!”
Stone was grinning, measuring out the flour we’d need. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m living the life of Animal House mixed with a lot of Friday Night Lights?”
Noel barked out a laugh, his hand wrapping more firmly around Savannah’s shoulders, pulling her so she was plastered against his front. “Because you are, but it’s better. It’s more awesome.”
Nacho burped. “No. Reeves is more awesome!”
They were all drunk. Jury hadn’t been out, but I knew the verdict was in. Every single one of them was drunk.
Stone just laughed, shaking his head. He bumped into me. “Tell me what to do.”
So I did.
In the middle of that crazy and hectic kitchen, Stone and I made seven pizzas together. My housemates and their boyfriends stood guard. Mia and Wyatt came back in. Even Lisa emerged, and Nacho had his arm draped around her.
People would come in. Word had gotten out Stone was in attendance, but if they lingered too long, my housemates shifted and literally pushed them out of the kitchen. There were autographs he signed. He posed for pictures, but he never strayed too far from me for too long. And once the pizzas were done, Stone threw them on the counter. He cut a few slices of one, putting them on a plate, then tossed the pizza cutter to one of the guys.
His free hand went around my waist. “Okay. Your turn. We’re out of here.”
No one argued, but Stone didn’t give them time. He was dragging me downstairs, through my room, and true to his word, within ten minutes (that’s how long I had to quickly pack a bag), we were up through my side exit and heading to his truck.
A few people in the backyard yelled out his name, but Stone only raised a hand, throwing a general holler back. He didn’t stop until we were both in his truck and he was backing out of there.
It hit me halfway to his house.
That night, I was happy. I was actually happy.
Then the smile wiped from my face.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stone went in the next morning to the stadium, but he was back a little after noon. And he wasn’t alone.
I was in the kitchen, about to start making food, when in walked the cornerback and quarterback for the Texas Kings. I had a spoon in my hand and it dropped. The clatter seemed to last forever, and all the while, Stone and Jake Bilson and Colby Doubard stood there, waiting for the spoon to stop clattering.
I wanted to avoid watching Stone’s games last year, but the truth was that I hadn’t.
It was almost unavoidable because his team became one of the best last year, and they were already exceeding their reputation this year so far. Because of that, everywhere I went they were on ESPN or any sports network or channel in a bar, a restaurant, even one time when I was waiting to do my laundry. The desk clerk had highlights playing and there’d been a perfect pass from Colby Doubard to Stone on replay.
I was completely aware of Colby Doubard. All six-foot-three inches, two-hundred-forty pounds of one of the bigger quarterbacks in the league. And I knew this because they talked about it a lot on ESPN. He looked lean on television. He didn’t look the same in person. He was large, and after Stone, he was probably one of the best looking guys I’d seen. Ever.
And don’t get me started on Jake Bilson.
Black. Shorter, around six foot even. He and Stone were almost the same size, both lean. And those dark eyes were literally smiling while he was trying to hold back a blinding smile. I instantly liked him. I mean, after being speechless and being awestruck.
“Dust, this is Colby and Jake.” Stone did the introductions and both stepped forward, shaking my hand.
I was fangirling.
I wasn’t used to this.
Stone was hiding a grin. “What are you making?”
“Caesar salad with kale and salmon.” I had no clue more people were coming. I had no clue these two were coming.
I needed to start watching Stone’s games more. All that happened with my life, I was having another moment about what kind of world Stone lived in. I knew it. I saw the fans’ reactions, the blogs, but seeing these two other professional athletes in Stone’s kitchen, all three of them looking like they hang out all the time, my stomach was doing double time on the twisting, turning, somersaulting. It was just one big continuous loop.
“You want something else? I can make something else.”
He stepped closer, angling my phone toward him. His eyebrows went up. “You been doing some research?”
I flushed. “You like the pizza so much, thought I could make myself useful. Do some cooking for you. Unless you have a chef?”
He was trying real hard to keep from bursting out laughing at my expense. I rolled my eyes, knowing my face was resembling a red sea star. “You’re annoying.”
Yeah. He lost the battle. He burst out laughing, then hugged me to him, his hand rubbing over my back quick. “Never seen you like this. It’s cute.”
Jake and Colby shared a look.
I elbowed Stone away, fighting from dropping my eyes to the floor. “So, um, I can make more food. Pasta? I can do a healthy primavera. You have all the stuff here. I’m actually impressed.”
Stone leaned back against the counter by me. “I have a girl who comes in and cooks a bunch of meals for me every week. I gave her last week off ’cause you were here.” He turned to the guys. “You guys want lunch?”
The two glanced at each other. Both shrugged.
Colby said, “That’d be great. Yeah.”
Stone said to me, “Games start in an hour. We were going to watch some tapes beforehand.” He was eyeing all the ingredients I’d pulled out on the counter. “You got this? Or you need help?”
It was my last day before heading back to school. Minus the freakout yesterday, the concussion was fading. I was more clearheaded. It took everything I had not to break down and dig into my textbooks, embracing my inner nerd for a bit, but one more day. I was giving myself one more day, and I owed Siobhan a call.
So, trying to stick to that plan, cooking had become my outlet.
He was right. I’d pulled up trying to find what a typical pro football athlete food program was, and it was mostly healthy food, mixed with junk food. Stone was a wide receiver. I wasn’t sure, but I found a few programs for what a pro soccer player would eat. I was adapting one of those programs for Stone. Though, hearing he had a girl who did his menus, I wasn’t sure how helpful I’d be.