“I wasn’t raised that way.”
“Yeah, well,” she says, snagging the glasses from my hands, “no one else in this house today ran a thirty-five-yard touchdown and slam dunked a ball through the goal post.”
“You saw that, huh?”
She smiles. “So did Dante. Pretty awesome.”
“Did you tell your good neighbor you dumped Mr. Tighty Whities?” Parker bellows from the table just as Clarissa snatches her mug away.
“No more eggnog for you.”
Clarissa nervously darts her gaze away from the question in my eyes as Dante comes running back to the table with his book.
“I’ll read it to Troy, Mommy!”
“Oh, yeah,” she taps his nose. “I forgot you can read.”
“Duh.” Dante slaps his forehead. “Oh, poop. I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to say that no more.”
“Anymore. You aren’t supposed to say that anymore. I’ll let it slide this once,” Clarissa says breezily, and I know it has everything to do with the help of Captain Morgan and the carb coma we’re all succumbing to. Sink filling, she pushes up her sleeves, glancing over at me while I study the book. “It’s a set I got him last year. One book for every day before Christmas. He’s doing great with his vocabulary and comprehension, but we’re working on his—”
“Tenses, I know.”
We share a smile just as Parker’s starts sputtering out porn music.
“Parker!” Clarissa hisses as I scoop up Dante and hang him over my shoulder.
“Let’s go, bud, before things turn ugly in here.” Dante giggles as he’s forced to give them both dangling kisses goodnight.
“Good night, Auntie Parker.”
“Night, Duckie.”
“Make sure you brush your teeth,” Clarissa calls after us, and I give her a wink.
“I’ve got this.”
She gives me a shy smile. “I know you do.”
Carol’s Goulash
Church Secretary, New Jersey
Makes 8–10 servings
1 hour
2 Lbs. Hamburger
1 Large Onion – Chopped
Garlic Powder – To taste
Salt – To Taste
Pepper – To Taste
2 Cans Rotel
7 8 Oz. Cans Tomato Sauce
7 8 Oz. Cans Water
1 Large Can Corn
3 Cups Macaroni
Brown hamburger meat, onion, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Drain. Add Rotel, tomato sauce, water, and corn. Bring to boil. Add macaroni. Cook 12 to 15 minutes or until macaroni is tender.
Clarissa
Troy returns to the living room as I light the last candle.
“Wow, it looks amazing in here.”
“Nothing better than having a real tree in your house.” I stand back as he admires it with me.
“It’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” I turn to him and look him over. I can see the fatigue in his posture. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” he says. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Just being with him makes me feel better. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Where’s Parker?”
“Her Ambien kicked in. She’s snoring it off in my bed.”
“I guess I’ll go.”
“Are you tired?”
“Not too much, why?”
“Because I have something for you.”
One side of his mouth lifts. “Do you?”
“Yeah, an early Christmas present.” I take a seat on the couch and pat the cushion next to me. He takes his place as I cue up my phone, hitting the mirror option before throwing the first video on my TV. In seconds, a six-month-old Dante is on-screen wiggling on the floor in an attempt to crawl. Troy’s face lights up in recognition. “So, he wasn’t exactly a crawler, he more or less dragged himself around by his arms.”
Troy chuckles. “I see.”
“He, uh, well, he might have had a hard time crawling, but when it was time to walk, it was like chasing lightning. I’m thinking he got that from his father.”
Pride fills his eyes as he watches rapt, a smile gracing his lips. When the video ends, he looks over to me.
“Got any more?”
“Hundreds.”
“Let’s see them.”
Troy tosses a piece of popcorn in his mouth and damn near chokes on it watching Dante’s first attempt at jailbreak.
“Oh, my God,” he chuckles. “How old was he here?”
“Thirteen months. Can you believe that?” I watch as Dante stacks his blanket and his animals so he has just enough room to pull himself up and over.
“Rewind that, would you?”
I nod and play it again.
“Oh, this is fucking epic,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.
“He was so damned cute.”
“Yeah, he was. What was that baseball outfit you dressed him in all the time?”
“You saw that?”
Troy nods. “Yeah, it was cool. Even if it was the wrong sport.”
“Hmm, I still have it somewhere. It says ‘Mommy’s Little Slugger’ on the front. I saved a few of my favorites to have a quilt made one day.”
“That’s cool,” Troy says, his eyes still on the screen. We watch one video after another. He’s completely smitten with Dante, and it’s so easy to see from the expression he’s wearing. I’m drawn into a video when Troy cups my chin turning me to face him. “Thank you for this. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
I fight the quiver in my lip as I try and find the right words. Pausing the video, I turn to face him fully. “I’m so sorry. I know it will never be enough. But I am. You should’ve been there. You should have had the chance to be there. I had no right to take this away from you. I hope one day you will forgive me. I hope,” a tear I can’t hold spills over and slides down my cheek. “I hope one day I can forgive myself.”
Softly, he runs his knuckles down my face. “I could’ve fought harder. I could have tried to talk to you instead of being such a fucking creeper.”
“I was scary.”
“So fucking scary,” he chuckles, catching another tear with the stroke of his fingers. “We both did unforgivable shit. It’s time to let it go.”
“Do you mean that?” I hear the shake in my voice when he nods.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.”
“I can’t stop thinking about the look on your mother’s face. I’m…I feel terrible.”
“It’s time to move on.”
“I would love that,” I place my hand over his where it rests on my face. “Are we okay?”
“We’re okay,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down to push the hair off my shoulders.
“He was a gift. You know? I never saw more for my life than being a teacher. I had no fancy plans other than that. I’m living my dream, Troy. It might not seem like much of one, but I’ve wanted to teach since I was a little girl and having our son, I think it made me a better pupil, and hopefully a better teacher. You deserve to live your dream too,” I say as he traces my jaw with a finger. “You’re so insanely talented. You’ll make it, I know you will.”
“Now, I’ve got an even better reason to make it happen.” He runs a hand down my arm, and I visibly shiver. His brow lifts.
“Like that, did you?”
“Maybe.”
He moves his hand back up before gently brushing his fingertips along my collar bone, and I shiver again.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching me intently. “You’re so responsive.”
“I remember that night,” I blurt. “When you asked me if I ever thought about it, I was embarrassed to tell you just how often I did. I still do.”
“Me too.”
“I think in a way, I hurt myself the day I showed up to your school. I built it up in my mind, the idea of you and me. I’d hoped that maybe you would be happy about the baby. About seeing me and…”
“It didn’t
go down like that at all.”
“Not at all. But I do remember, Troy. And that night was…”
“Fucking amazing,” his voice drops as he cups the back of my head, and we both draw closer.
“Back then, we were a news at eleven headline waiting to happen.”
“But we aren’t now.”
“Not now, no,” I say breathlessly.
We’re close. My nipples draw tight beneath my sweater as his eyes rake over my face. “No more Brett?”
I bite my lip and turn my head back and forth.
“Why?”
“He wasn’t for me.”
“Any particular reason?” We’re a breath apart, my body completely alive, wired, the pull too much to ignore.
Parker’s voice has us both jumping back.
“Sausages. I bought them.” The condiments clink together as she jerks open the fridge. “I bought Summer Sausage. Who ate it?” A second later, Parker enters the living room in nothing but slippers and a long T-shirt, her phone in her hand. “Why is it so dark in here? Are y’all watching Love Island?”
“Oh, Lord. It’s an Ambien sleepwalk.” I hang my head and stand before I make my way toward her. “Come on, babe, let’s get you back to bed.”
Parker turns to me speaking as if she’s not in a prescription-induced coma. “Do you smell pickles? Ohhhh, let’s go to Target.”
Troy chuckles, and I meet his eyes over her shoulder while turning her back in the direction of my bedroom. “I better go strap her into bed.”
The looks we exchange are filled with need. And in his eyes, I see the promise of something more.
“I’ll see myself out. Night, pretty woman.”
“Night, neighbor.”
Kim’s NO-BAKE Billionaire Pie
Psychologist, Wisconsin
Makes 8 servings
20 minutes
2 Cups Powdered Sugar
1 Stick Butter
1 Large Egg
1/4 Tsp. Salt
2 8-Inch Pie Crusts
1/4 Tsp. Vanilla
2 Packages Dream Whip
1/2 Cup Pecans
1 Cup Pineapple – drained
Cream butter, sugar, egg, salt, and vanilla. Fill pie crusts with mixture. Follow directions on box and whip Dream Whip. Add pineapple and nuts to Dream Whip. Spoon into pies. Chill.
Clarissa
“It’s supposed to snow tonight,” I say folding some wrapping paper against a box.
“That’s cool.”
“It will be Dante’s first White Christmas.”
“I wish I would have known. I would have ordered a sled.”
“I’ve got cookie sheets that’ll work just fine, Mr. Engineer.”
He grins. “That’ll work too.”
Troy glances down at the directions before grabbing a training wheel and adding it to the bike he’s been constructing for the last fifteen minutes. I secure the last piece of tape on one of Santa’s gifts before arranging it beneath the tree.
“Need any help?” I slide over to where he sits in the middle of the living room.
“Sure,” he says absently. “Hand me that snap driver.”
“Got it,” I say, sorting through his toolbox. The toolbox he bought when he decided I needed a few repairs around the house. Since our night of home movies weeks ago, his season ended with only one more win killing all hopes of Texas Grand making the playoffs. And because he’s on winter break from school, he’s been pushing himself harder than ever. He’s restless, nervous about the invite to the NFL Combine, and no amount of assurance on my part seems to help. His whole future rides on the next few months, and so he’s been spending endless hours at the gym during the day before working the extra shifts he’s picked up at night. He’s bulked up, and it shows. His clothes cling to him, perfectly accentuating his insane build. He’s in a cream sweater and dark jeans and looks fucking mouthwatering. We’ve barely had any time alone since our almost kiss, and I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if Parker hadn’t interrupted the moment. Since then, it’s been lingering looks, and too brief kisses goodnight once he’s tucked Dante in. Tonight, I decided to pull out all the big guns, wearing a set of red silk pajamas and only a red thong beneath.
I’m waxed, spritzed, and buffed, in hopes of something other than a PG kiss goodnight. I have no idea where we stand, but I’m teetering on the brink of madness at this point.
“You know what a snap driver is, don’t you?” Troy prompts from where he sits as I sort through the endless box of tools giving him a clear shot of cleavage through my silky top.
“Of course, I do.” I have absolutely no idea what the hell a snap driver is. But I damn sure won’t tell him that as I take my time, glancing between him and the toolbox. He doesn’t so much as look my way as I scrutinize every tool.
“Then you are aware it’s a figment of my imagination.” He chuckles as I look up and see his movie star grin before narrowing my eyes.
“You dick.”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist. So, I guess having me around has come in handy?”
“Don’t go fishing for compliments after insulting a woman’s intelligence.”
“You’re the smartest woman I know,” he says easily as he tests the wheels on the bike before flipping it over and unlatching the kickstand.
“What?”
He studies the bike after weighing my expression. “It’s good, I swear, and I got the dorky ass helmet you demanded and knee pads.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m his—”
“I mean for that compliment.”
“Oh,” he waves his hand. “Well, you are.”
“It’s nice of you to say.”
“Well, I mean it.”
I yawn, and he stands.
“Tired, huh?” He looks at the clock. “This is normally the time I get ready for work.”
“How can you stand it?”
“Sometimes, I can’t. I’ll be happy when I have one job, even if it looks like it’s going to be UPS.”
“Troy, you’ll get drafted. There’s so much talk, and you had a spectacular season despite the way it ended.”
He shakes his head, his disappointment evident. “Let’s not go there tonight, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.” I perk up for his sake. “Hey, you want some eggnog?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Coffee?”
Tea? Me?
I’m doting on him like a lovesick teenager, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“I’m good,” he repeats, grabbing another box and pulling out the contents. “This is fun,” he says, opening another set of directions.
“Never has been for me. I’m thankful you’re here. I used to have a hell of a time doing this alone. Parker would sometimes help when she was home, but she usually just dictated while I pulled my hair out. And the irony is Dante is so good at this kind of stuff. Now I see where he gets it. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You said that,” he looks over to me as he rips open the plastic, and for that brief moment, I swear I see a flash of heat in his eyes. However, just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone.
“What?” He asks without looking my way.
“I’m just wondering if you’re missing something tonight.”
“Missing something?” He opens a bag of screws.
“You know, a party, booze,” I hold out my hands from my chest. “Big breasted elves.”
“Clarissa, I’m not into that anymore.”
“Hmm,” I say, pulling the trash from the carpet.
He grabs my free hand and commands my eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Okay?”
He slides his thumb over the back of my hand, and I melt into that touch as my skin heats.
It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I’m a horny, needy woman. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been on the receiving end of more of his attention because I’m reeking of desperation. I feel like a fool as I gather the
rest of the trash.
“He’s going to love this,” Troy says. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
“I was thinking. If you want to spend the night on the couch, you’re welcome to, so you can be here when he wakes up.”
“Yeah. That will be cool.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He nods, intent on his task.
I crack Dante’s door for a quick check and see he’s hanging off the bed. I right him beneath the covers before closing his door and setting a decorative ring of bells on the handle to ensure we can hear him coming.
Armed with blankets and a pillow, I pad into the living room to see Troy standing and stretching.
“You’re done already?”
I bend over to inspect Dante’s new desk and light stands. “This is awesome. What a good idea. He’s going to love making his videos with this.”
“Jesus Christ,” I hear uttered in annoyance and glance over my shoulder to see Troy scrubbing his face with his palm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says hoarsely.
I frown and take a step forward. “Troy, what’s going on? I thought we were okay.”
He stares down at me, pushing the hair away from my shoulder. “We are.”
“Why are you acting so weird?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, “I just have a lot on my mind. I’m going to head home. I’ll probably be up anyway when he wakes up.”
“You’re not going to stay?”
“No. I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“It’s one in the morning,” I hear the whine in my own voice and inwardly cringe.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
But I can’t stop the thoughts racing through my mind. Jealousy burns through me at the idea that it might not be stuff, but a who he needs to do.
He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Merry Christmas. See you in the morning.”
“Do you want me to text you when—” The door shuts behind him, and I stand there staring blankly at it, wondering where I went wrong.
Just weeks ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Unable to handle another second of his hot and cold, I stalk after him.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 46
