Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Sosie Frost

  “We were waiting for you,” Regan said. “Aurora, I’d like for you to meet Rick Washington…Doctor Rick Washington. He’s a cardiologist at McGrin Regional.”

  Oh my god. It was a set-up. I caught Jude’s raised eyebrow. I didn’t need a cardiologist. Maybe a good OBGYN. Definitely a foot rub. But a date?

  I was almost insulted. Didn’t Regan think I couldn’t find a man on my own?

  “Hi, uh, nice to meet you,” I said. Why did he have to be so attractive? Tall. Black. Broad shouldered. Rick was a dreamboat, but my life had already struck the iceberg of catastrophe. “Um, excuse me...Rick. Mom, can you help me with this casserole?”

  Regan was no help. “I can manage your casserole while you entertain our guest.”

  “It’s actually a little tricky. I need to…add a few more ingredients.”

  This didn’t please her. “You brought an incomplete dish?”

  “No, it’s fine. I can serve it. But I’d like your help.”

  “I’m sure you remember the kitchen layout. I know you don’t visit often—or at all—but you should remember your way around.”

  “I can…but maybe you’ve…” Why did she have to make this so damn hard? “Moved the tongs while I’ve been away…”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, Regan!” Grandma Mildred snuggled between Jude and Rick at the table, happy as a toothless clam. She toasted the men, and I suspected it wasn’t her first mimosa. “Give Rory-Doll a hand. I’ll entertain our guests.”

  And, to demonstrate, she tucked her wrinkled hand over Jude’s and squeezed.

  At least it hadn’t been his ass. She’d need another drink before that.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Jude,” she said.

  He gave her a flustered smile. “Neither have you, Mildred.”

  “And Rick…” Grandma couldn’t sink her teeth into him, but she could give a wink of her lazy eye. She plucked at the jewelry around her neck. “Why don’t I tell you about the time my first husband, Rodney, gave me this pearl necklace.”

  Oh, God. Not that story again, not before dinner.

  Regan stiffened. “Mother.”

  “It all started in 1957 when I met Rodney. He said he was an oyster diver, and, Lord have mercy, he proved it…”

  “Mom.” I tugged her arm. “Kitchen. Please.”

  Regan relented, marching us into a kitchen that somehow prepared a Thanksgiving-inspired feast without dirtying a single dish.

  Was she a fairy god-mother or a pediatric surgeon?

  My casserole clattered onto the counter, and the contents splushed into a mess of cheese, breadcrumbs, and sickly pale chicken. The broccoli would probably abandon the pan and sneak onto Regan’s neatly arranged tray of roasted vegetables. It rested near the bowl of whipped potatoes, dripping with valleys of molten butter. A turkey waited on the stove, browned and crackling with two different types of stuffing.

  She’d probably spent hours on the dinner, and, knowing Regan, she’d never admit that the food didn’t magically appear with a wave of a wand.

  I checked her shoes. Practical sandals. No glass slippers. Yet.

  “Mom.” I crossed my arms. “Who is Rick?”

  “Oh, isn’t he such a nice man?”

  “Yeah, he is. Why is he in the dining room?”

  Regan straightened her cardigan, but her hair, makeup, and smile were, as always, lovely. “I met him at a conference some time ago. He mentioned that he was available, and I said that my step-daughter had just taken a promising neurological fellowship in town. I thought it was a smart match.”

  “Okay, this isn’t a blind date. This is a blindside.”

  Regan frowned. “Aurora, I simply took a chance. When I was your age, I was already married, found a position with a highly respected hospital, and was planning my family to include your brothers.”

  “So?”

  “You’ve been so preoccupied with this fellowship; we’ve hardly seen each other. It’s been months since you’ve come home.”

  By design. “And?”

  “You know what I told you about the medical profession—never let them see you overwhelmed.”

  “I’m not overwhelmed.”

  “Then you should have time for certain social responsibilities. Public parties. Networking.” Her eyebrow rose. “People will talk if you are seen alone for too long.”

  “I think you’re the one talking.”

  “You aren’t getting any younger, Aurora. It might be time to begin thinking of your life, post-fellowship.”

  “Well…I’m glad you brought it up.” I dodged her as she aimed for the green bean almondine. “I really wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Not now. You’ve already arrived late…as usual. Here.” She handed me a bowl of prosciutto wrapped asparagus. “Take that to the dining room. Get to know our guest.”

  “That’s just the thing. You know that I brought Jude home with me—”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “He’s practically my third son. He’s always welcome.”

  “Again, I’m glad you see it that way because—”

  “Aurora. Where are your manners?” Regan wouldn’t act so undignified as to point at me, but I imagined the wag of her finger. “We will talk after dinner.”

  “We really should talk before dinner.”

  “I’ll bring the rolls. Make sure your grandmother isn’t embarrassing us.”

  I was a doctor, not a miracle worker. I loved Grandma Mildred, and I loved even more that Regan couldn’t control her like she chess-pawned the rest of the family.

  “Oh, and Aurora…” Regan tapped her chin. “Is there any way you might…find a sweater to wear? That dress is hardly appropriate.”

  It had been professional…before I inadvertently rented my womb out. “I didn’t pack anything else.”

  “A shame. I wanted Rick to believe you were…smart.”

  “I am smart.”

  “Of course you are.”

  My mood swing, swung, and aimed for the fences. I grabbed the mashed potatoes and followed Regan to the dining room. Jude asked a silent question with a raised eyebrow. The food was still being served, so obviously I hadn’t spilled the beans all over Regan’s dinner. Yet.

  “The table looks great, Regan,” Jude said.

  “Thank you. This is nothing, just a little celebration to have most of the family together again.” Regan meticulously adjusted the white cloth napkin swaddling the dinner rolls. “I did pull out the formal China though. A wedding present from so long ago. I had hoped the set would one day pass to my step-daughter…”

  Oh Lord.

  Regan turned, addressing Rick. “But she’s yet to make engagement plans…with anyone. Not for lack of trying of course. She was busy finishing her internship, and now she’s working on this fabulous fellowship.”

  “Damn, Mom.” Eric grabbed the mashed potato spoon like a trowel and slopped a pile onto his plate. Mildred slapped his hand, but he earned her favor by lopping potatoes on her plate as well. “Why don’t you weigh her in and check her teeth before you sell her off?”

  Regan bristled, but she’d never lose her temper, even with a petulant son. “Oh, darling, I suppose I am embarrassing her. But I am so proud of my daughter, following in my footsteps.”

  Proud? Her? That was a new one.

  “She was very nearly the top of her class, you know. And she’s simply amazing with her patients.”

  This was a nightmare. I reached for my glass, realizing too late it was filled to the brim with Chardonnay. Damn.

  How were people supposed to escape their families without alcohol?

  “So…” Rick had a great smile. “You’re a doctor too?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t implore Jude for help. He and Eric swapped stories about a game they’d played three seasons prior. “I am. I only wish I knew as much about you. It appears my mom has been—”

  “Making conversation,” Regan said.

  “Or meddling.”

 
; She laughed—fake and coy. “Oh, there’s that wit I was telling you about. Aurora can be so wickedly funny sometimes.”

  Rick shrugged. “Always good to have a sense of humor.”

  “I agree. And Aurora has never lost that spirit, even in such a difficult career field.”

  “She’s also never lost her hearing,” I said. “I’m sitting right here, Mom. Don’t make Rick uncomfortable.”

  “He’s not uncomfortable. We’re just talking.”

  “You’re practically slapping a USDA grade on me.”

  “And you’d be prime.” Regan smiled at Jude and Eric. “Right, boys?”

  Eric was no help. “I’ll get the A-1 sauce.”

  Rick laughed and raised a hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. I’ve been hooked up a dozen times since my divorce. First at the hospital, then my brother’s wedding. I’m just happy for a good meal and pleasant company.”

  Mildred reached over, feeling up his arm. “Well, he’s no football player, but he’ll do. You should keep this one around, Rory.”

  Regan helped Eric serve slices of turkey. “Oh, enough of that, Mom. Let’s let these kids have a nice dinner. It’s great to have the family together again.” She nodded. “And Jude as well. We haven’t seen you since your injury.”

  I took the initiative and patted his hand. “Yes. Jude signed with the Rivets. We’ve sort of…reconnected.”

  Mom didn’t notice.

  Eric did.

  And his grin one-eighty’d into a scowl.

  “Didn’t know you two were ever…” He waved a fork loaded with mashed potatoes. “Disconnected.”

  “Well, we met up and…just got to talking,” I said.

  Eric dropped his silverware. “Is that right?”

  “Rick, would you prefer light or dark meat?” Regan asked, sweetly.

  Rick had dimples, ones he eagerly flashed at me. “I’ve always been a dark meat guy.”

  Oh Christ. This wasn’t happening. I gripped Jude’s hand. Regan ignored it.

  “Aurora, you should tell Rick about your fellowship. I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it.”

  “Actually…” I cleared my throat. “I think there’s something else we should probably discuss first.”

  “That Doctor Clayton Frolla.” Regan said his name with such reverence that I shuddered. “He’s a genius in his field. He took Aurora on as his protégé.”

  A lump of turkey thudded to my plate, followed by a heaping mound of potatoes, a tangled mess of green beans, a cascade of gravy, and every mingling scent that tied my stomach into a tourniquet.

  I leaned away from the plate. I pushed the food away. It wasn’t as subtle as I’d hoped. Neither was my step-mother.

  “I’ve met him a couple times,” Rick said. “He seemed…”

  Regan leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “Very friendly, especially with his interns.”

  A little too friendly.

  “Oh, he’s a lovely man,” Regan said. “Handsome too.”

  Oh no. This so wasn’t happening.

  “We had one or two dinners out together—strictly work related, of course.” Regan offered me the rolls. I nearly added some tossed cookies into the basket. “I so admire an accomplished man though. It’s rare to find someone so respectable in medicine anymore.”

  Clayton? Respectable?

  It suddenly felt like I was the one loopy with a concussion.

  Regan smiled. “That’s why I was so excited that Aurora was selected out of a pool of hundreds of doctors vying for the fellowship.”

  “Quite the accomplishment,” Rick said.

  I didn’t answer. Regan paid no attention. “Plus, now Aurora has a bit more time on her hands since she’s spending the last year of her residency with the Rivets.” She leaned closer. “You must remember those days, Rick. So lonely in the classes and hospitals.”

  “Right…” Rick studied my hand as I folded it in Jude’s. “I can imagine.”

  “I was just telling her that this is a perfect opportunity to step outside the hospitals. It’s a chance to meet new people.”

  Eric’s voice hardened. “Oh, Rory’s gonna be meeting someone special in a couple months.”

  I kicked him under the table. Like I was going to say a damn thing about the baby when Regan was obsessed with sacrificing me to whatever single doctor was within swiping range.

  “Usually I have to pry that fork away from you,” Regan smiled. “Go on, Aurora. Eat. We’ll have plenty of time to talk. She’s such a good conversationalist, this daughter of mine.”

  Mildred knew the game. She swigged her mimosa. “She’s cute too.”

  “Mom, please,” Regan said. “Let’s be polite.”

  “You should be more observant.” Mildred shuffled from the table and took my wine glass. “I’ll pour you something else to drink, Rory-Doll.”

  Oh no.

  Regan chastised Mildred with a flip of her napkin. “Sit down. We’re in the middle of dinner.”

  “And you’re one rose short of an episode of the Bachelorette, Regan. Don’t go poking around or you’ll just end up with a handful of thorns.”

  “Honestly, mother.”

  “How many men do you think that child needs? Lord have mercy, we’re gonna end up sawing her in half like in Solomon’s Court.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Is the electric turkey carver still on the counter?” Mildred asked. “No. You sit down. I’ll grab it.”

  “What in the world—”

  “Mom…” I tightened my grip on Jude’s hand. He took the hint. If I bolted, he’d drag me back. “Do you realize I came here with Jude?”

  “Jude is always welcome here,” Regan said. “Eric, can I interest you in another roll?”

  Eric practically snorted smoke. “Oh, we’re about to roll, let me fucking tell you.”

  “No, Mom.” I clenched my teeth. “I came here with Jude.”

  The table quieted. Regan tilted her head. Her full lips shriveled into a single point.

  “Oh.”

  A chill flooded the table. The turkey might have turned to ash and the rolls rocks, but at least the lie was out in the open. Rick toasted Jude with his wine. No hard feelings.

  Too bad my step-brother wasn’t nearly as refined.

  Or tactful.

  Or patient.

  His smile faded. His best friend was already in danger by virtue of supposedly dating his little sister, but the bomb was about to drop, and Jude hadn’t packed a helmet to survive this siege.

  I hopped from the table too late. “Eric, can I talk to you?”

  My step-brother slammed his hand against his plate.

  Wine spilled. Potatoes splattered into the wall. Mildred ducked before a green bean flicked into her face.

  The turkey wasn’t the only thing about to get plucked.

  Eric seethed at Jude. “It was you…”

  “Eric, wait!”

  Too slow. My step-brother raged. His plate spun through the air like a Frisbee, shattering against the chandelier.

  Regan leapt to her feet. “Eric Eugene Kellen, you sit down this instant.”

  Only a mother could scold a defensive end, but Eric’s fury was beyond anything short of a restraining order.

  Jude surrendered with his hands up, his voice calm. “Just listen, man. Don’t get mad.”

  “Don’t get mad?”

  “Eric, stop.” I took a step closer. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand. Believe me. I get it.” He pointed at Jude. “You’re a dead man.”

  Mildred scooped another helping of mashed potatoes onto Rick’s plate. “No fighting at the table. At least, not before dessert.”

  “What is all of this about?” Regan would never raise her voice, but her eyebrow twitched a little too quick. “Aurora, explain this.”

  “Maybe we should finish dinner first?” I asked.

  No dice.

  Eric launched at Jude. Both m
en crashed into the dining room table.

  Had the turkey flown that quick before it hit the oven, it might have stood a fighting chance.

  “Stop it!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

  Jude was smaller than Eric, but he was quicker. He dodged the blow, took a detour through the green beans, and rolled away by veering across the casserole. The candles overturned, but Grandma Mildred was quick on the mark, snuffing out the fire with a ladle of gravy.

  Yams.

  Yams everywhere.

  I ducked to avoid a flying serving spoon. Eric’s punch imbedded his fist squarely in the turkey’s stuffing. Instead of rolling away, he doubled down, delivering the bird a rather unfortunate prostate exam. He swung his arm up, and the turkey came with it.

  Fourteen pounds of impaled poultry quivered on Eric’s fist as he lunged for Jude.

  Jude dodged, but the gobbler still pecked him in the jaw. Fortunately, Regan’s renowned juicy breasts absorbed most of the impact.

  Eric tore the carcass to shreds Mad Max style. Rick dove over the table to prevent a ribcage from striking Grandma Mildred.

  If he were only fifty years older, that rescue would have gotten him so lucky.

  Jude escaped from the table but stayed low, tensed for a fight. His hair dripped with cranberry sauce, and a stalk of asparagus poked from his pocket.

  Eric had face-planted in the butter, but he spat most of it out. “I can’t believe you’d betray her like this.”

  “Eric—that’s why we’re here,” Jude said. “We wanted to tell everyone.”

  “I can’t believe you’d hurt her like this!”

  I rushed between them. “Stop it. He hasn’t hurt me. We’re together, Eric.”

  Mildred scraped some butter off of Eric’s arm and shook her head. “Let them go, Rory. Boys will be boys.” She grinned at Rick. “Does this mean you’re free tonight?”

  Regan was a tall woman, fierce and proud, but even she was nothing next to a six-foot-six defensive end. However, she took ahold of her son’s ear, forced him into his chair, and tossed a napkin into his lap.

  “Aurora!” And yet she yelled at me. “What is going on?”

  Like it was my fault Eric was picking stuffing out of his ears and corn from his nose.

  I didn’t have a choice. I had to come clean, especially since we were never getting the stains out of Jude’s dress shirt.