Ethan’s eyes shift to his dad before moving back to Abby. “Please?”
She stands as well, her eyes sparkling, wine glass in hand. “Are you sure you want to go up against me?”
“We can play doubles. You and Aidan against Mr. Spencer and me.”
Aidan balls up his fists. “But I wanted to be on Mr. Spencer’s team.”
Abby’s mouth falls open. “What am I, chopped liver?”
Ethan looks between her and his younger brother before his shoulders slump. “Fine, I’ll be on your team.”
With a chagrined smirk, she crosses the room to ruffle his hair. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence bud.”
Realizing his mistake, his bummed body language shifts. “No, no. I’m happy. We’re going to beat them.”
Aidan peers up at me. “Aunt Abby is really good.”
“We’ll just have to be better, now won’t we?”
He smiles up at me, oblivious to the spinach leaf stuck to one of his back teeth.
I point to my teeth. “You have something stuck in your teeth.”
He nods, unbothered by this news. “I was saving it for later.”
He walks away before I can react, or argue with his logic. There’s a door off the kitchen that leads to a set of stairs down to the basement.
This is not the first time I’ve been down here. Once or twice while I was tutoring Gideon, this is where our lesson took place. The ping-pong table was even there in those days. Just about everything else is unfamiliar, most likely having been updated over the years.
Now a large sectional sofa with deep cushions faces a large screen TV mounted over another fireplace. This one appears to be gas though, whereas the one in the den was wood burning.
The TV is set to a channel playing holiday music at a low volume. Behind it, the ping-pong table is set with plenty of free space around it for playing.
At the other end of the basement are a series of doors.
Abby’s watchful eyes don’t miss the direction of my gaze.
She points. “Spare room, bathroom, laundry room.”
Next to the doors is a wood-paneled wet bar. Abby walks over to it and sets her wine glass down.
Then she stretches her neck and arms, her eyes on Ethan. “Ready to show them we’re the ultimate dream team?”
He nods. “Oh yeah, they’re so going down.”
“Nah uh.” Aidan grins broadly at his retort.
Here’s hoping he’s better at ping-pong than he is at comebacks.
Loud footsteps sound on the stairs as everyone from the den trudges down them.
“We decided to watch you guys play while we work up our appetites for dessert,” Noah explains.
My palms start sweating. It’s one thing to play a friendly game of ping-pong with a woman and a couple kids, but another thing to do it with a packed audience.
Aidan gets paddles and a ball. “Youngest player serves first.”
Seems there are some house rules at play here.
“Do you play to the one bounce rule?” I ask.
Aidan scrunches up his face. “Huh?”
“Is it okay for the ball to bounce more than once?”
His face relaxes. “Yep.”
Abby takes two paddles, passing one to Ethan. “We’re not strict with the rules, except for the no physical contact one.”
Finley coughs out a laugh. “Was physical contact ever allowed?”
It’s Daisy who answers. “There’s a whole chunk of drywall over there that needed to be replaced after Eli and Noah decided to invent tackle ping pong.”
Aidan nods proudly. “Dad’s head made the hole.”
“Any other rules I should be aware of?”
Abby tosses her paddle up in the air, making it flip before catching it. “Losers serve winners dessert.”
Aidan gasps. “I don’t want to feed anyone.”
Thanks for the confidence kid. “I think she means carry their plate to them.”
He squints at Abby. “Is that what you meant?”
Ethan crosses his arms. “I don’t want him to carry my plate. He’ll probably spit on it.”
Eli stands up from the sectional, his eyes on his oldest. “Ethan, if you don’t have anything nice to say, please keep your mouth shut.”
Shamefaced, he looks at his toes. “Sorry dad.”
Abby points across the table at Aidan. “Enough chit-chat. Time to play.”
Sam claps her hands. “Go Abby. Show no mercy!”
He wets his lips and sets up his serve. The ball bounces once before his paddle connects, sending the ball right into the net.
7
Abby
Ethan meets my gaze, a gleeful smile stretched across his face. Beating the snot out of your little brother in ping-pong will do that. Part of me feels bad for Aidan, but my desire to cream Spencer is bigger.
Is that a joke? His words still scramble around the walls of my mind like a bug trapped in a jar.
Why would it be a joke to ask me out? So what if I’m not some genius space scientist. He can come to my parents’ house, eat their food and spend time with my family and I’m not good enough for him?
Whatever.
Like I even care.
I don’t even like him.
All I need to do is find him a house and then I’ll never see him again. Since that’s not going to happen anytime soon, I’ll kick his ass at ping-pong for now.
“Do we have to play another one?” Aidan asks.
We usually play best three out of five with eleven points to win each match. We’ve beaten them eleven to three twice already.
And, not one of those six points came from Spencer. It may have been immature, but I shut him out completely. I only let Aidan score a few so he wouldn’t be too upset at Ethan and me for winning.
“You can forfeit,” Ethan offers.
I tilt my head and stare at Spencer. It’s funny how befuddled he looks as he pushes his glasses up his nose. Bet he thought knowing the formulas behind how motion and force affect the ball would give him the upper hand. Problem is, knowing how to set up a tough shot isn’t enough to beat someone as fast as me.
Biting my tongue, since I do love my nephew, I decide against suggesting they quit. That doesn’t stop me from carrying out a pretend conversation in my head. These are my favorite kind because I can control both sides of the conversation and not get in any trouble for saying what I want.
It’s helpful when I’d love to remind a client a gallon or two of paint is a lot cheaper than only buying a house because it is already decorated in a color scheme they like.
It this case, with Spencer, in my head, I’m asking him if his playing is a joke. Then, still in my head, I knock a ping-pong ball right between his eyes.
Aidan sets his paddle down. “I want pie.”
Ethan turns to me, both arms going sky high, even the one holding the paddle. “We won.”
I set my paddle down and give him a big hug. It’s crazy how big he’s getting. In another year, he’ll be taller than me.
My mom goes over to comfort Aidan. “We’ll get you the first piece.”
“No way,” Ethan argues. “He’s got to serve me first.”
Aidan looks about ready to cry so I step in. “How about he gets you a plate the same time he gets himself one?”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound thrilled, but he must realize if he makes a big deal about it there’s a decent chance he’ll piss off his parents and get no pie.
At the mention of food, everyone else starts heading upstairs behind my mom and the boys. Needing my wine, I go in the opposite direction to retrieve my glass.
When I turn, I’m surprised to see Spencer didn’t go upstairs with everyone else.
He stretches out his hand.
Confused, I stare at it. His hands look strong, his fingers long and his nails neatly trimmed. Even his hands are attractive.
His shell-shocked expression is comical. “I wanted to congratulate you on your wi
n.”
Oh, he wants to shake hands. All at once I realize we’re now alone down here. My parents’ basement is massive, the square footage equal to that of the entire main level. Why do the walls feel like they’re closing in?
I gulp, before slipping my hand into his. His palm is warm, his large hand engulfing mine. His touch is annoyingly comfortable.
“Good game.”
“Good game,” I return, tugging my hand away.
He drops his hand quickly, looking uncomfortable. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
My lips tip up. “You’ve seen my brothers. To hold my own against any of them, I needed to be faster.”
“It’s an Olympic sport.”
“I know.”
He shifts his gaze back to the table. “Did you ever try to pursue playing further?”
Moving past him, I walk to the stairs.
I pause at the start of them. “I was too busy playing soccer. Besides, ping pong was something I played for fun.”
“I see.”
“Come on. Let’s get some dessert before it’s all gone.” Not meaning to, I start to stomp up them, still annoyed at him.
He follows me. “Yes, you’ll have to let me know what you would like.”
Stopping halfway up the stairs, I turn back to look at him. He’s closer than I expected him to be and with our height difference, we’re eye to eye. This close, I can smell his cologne. Whatever it is, it’s playing havoc on my senses. Leave it to me to have a crush on a guy who thinks I’m a joke.
Okay universe, first you destroy my house, and now you’re going after my heart? Thing is, I’m smarter than he thinks I am and can make sure my feelings never come into play. So what if he’s hot, there are plenty of hot guys on this planet. There’s no way I’m going to pine after some dude who isn’t worth my attention.
I’ll sell him a house and make some money off him in the process. Then good riddance, Spencer Hill.
“What?”
“The terms of your victory.”
I blink, and then laugh. “You don’t have to serve me pie.”
He cocks his head to one side, his gaze moving over my face. “I do.”
This close, and in the dull light of the stairway, his dark brown eyes seem like pools of black coffee behind his glasses, and being this close is giving me a caffeine buzz.
Is that a joke?
His earlier words assail me again. I spin around so fast I wonder if my hair hit him. There’s no way I’m looking back to find out.
“Suit yourself,” I reply, moving so quickly I’m almost at the top of the stairs before I’m finished speaking.
The moment I’m back on the main level, my heartbeat slows back to its normal rhythm. How had I not noticed it was racing?
“Do you have to poop?”
My mouth falls open as I stare down at my niece. “What?”
She points at me. “Your face is red and you look constimated.”
Gideon, who unfortunately is standing close enough to hear this exchange, laughs. “Yeah sis, you look constimated.”
Connie’s mispronunciation of constipated was cute, having Gideon repeat it is less so.
“So do you have to poop?”
“MOM, CONNIE’S TALKING ABOUT POOPING,” Aidan shrieks at eardrum shattering decibels.
Brooke rounds the corner. “Both of you come here right now.”
“But Mom,” Aidan whines.
“No, we told you three on the way here to mind your manners. Do you think yelling about poop is doing that?”
“Connie started it.”
She leads both of them away.
As soon as they’re out of earshot, Gideon jumps back in. “You do look a little constimated.”
“Oh shut up.”
Spencer makes an ‘ahem’ sound behind us and lifts a plate. “Apples are a good source of fiber if you’d like a slice of pie.”
Embarrassed, I point to the chocolate trifle Finley made. “I’ll take a scoop of that please.”
“How big of a scoop?”
“Dump truck big,” I reply.
Ethan comes up behind him, plate in hand, pie already finished. “I’d like the dump truck experience as well.”
Spencer loads me up, before doing the same for my oldest nephew. Then he surprises me by loading up a third plate, and carrying it and my plate back over toward me. “Where would you like to sit?”
While dinner was formal, dessert is less so, served buffet style. My parents and Finley’s parents are eating in the den. Noah, Finley, Asher and Paige are all eating around the kitchen island. Brooke is somewhere trying to keep the kids from fighting or getting their clothes dirty.
For some reason, I don’t feel like being around any of them. “Follow me.”
I lead him to my dad’s office. There are a couple of club chairs and a table across from his desk in there.
“Have a seat.”
He doesn’t listen, instead, still carrying our plates, he moves around the room.
“It’s a great room, isn’t it?”
As if remembering he’s still holding my plate, he closes the space between us and hands it to me.
Setting it on the table, I head to my dad’s minibar. “Want a drink?”
He claims one of the chairs. “Yes, thank you.”
“Any requests?”
He shakes his head. “Surprise me.”
His earlier words make me wonder if this is some sort of intelligence test. Not caring either way, I decide to make us each an Old Fashioned. It’s a drink my dad taught me how to make years ago. My dad sometimes forgets to refill the ice tray. Opening the door to check, I relax when I see it’s full.
Once I’m done, I pass him his glass. “Here.”
While I wait, he takes a drink. “It’s good, thanks.”
Sliding into my seat, I reach for my plate and take a bite. When I notice Spencer pick up his fork, it hits me that he waited for me to eat first.
“This is delicious.”
All I can do is bob my head in agreement since my mouth is full.
“Your family is great.”
Done with my bite, I swallow loudly then agree verbally this time. “Yeah, they’re the best.”
“I always envied people with big families growing up.”
My fingers circle my glass, the amber liquid swishing and ice cubes knocking against the side as I lift it to my lips and drink. All the while, I wonder what my life would have been like if I had grown up in a smaller family.
“It sure made life interesting. Do you have any cousins?”
“I have an older sister.”
My lips part in surprise. “You do?”
He takes another drink. “She’s ten years older than me and lives in Chicago.”
“That’s a big age difference.”
“It is, and it meant we weren’t very close growing up.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, since it seems you aren’t that close with your parents, what made you move back?”
After setting his drink down, his long fingers circle the rim of the glass, as if he was trying to pull sound from it. “I had hoped to change that when I came back.”
“Could you have gone with them on the cruise?”
He shifts his arm back to his side, his eyes staying on his glass. “They checked and it was fully booked.”
Setting my drink down with a clang, my hands join the conversation. “That blows.”
He looks up from the table and stares at me. “It’s not a big deal.”
I’d like to shake him. “They’re your family and you moved here to be closer to them. Family should be together around the holidays.”
His throat bobs as he gulps and I wonder if I’ve overstepped my bounds. “I’m sorry, you don’t need me ordering you around.”
My hand curves around the arm of my chair and he shocks me by covering my hand with his. “No, I appreciate your opinion.”
When he notices my gaze on his hand, h
e pulls it away.
For the first time, I wonder if I misjudged him. “I can help you, if you want.”
“Help me?”
I reach for my glass and lift it. “Yep, I can give you tips on how to strengthen your relationship with them. Consider me your family trainer.”
“You’d do that?”
I take a drink before answering him. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”
While he silently considers my words, I eat my dessert. He’s barely touched his. Is he going to eat it? If he’s not, I’m all over it.
He must sense my thoughts because he follows suit and begins to eat as well. Finley is a great cook, but she only breaks out the big guns for special occasions.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
He smiles, a smidge of whipped chocolate mousse on his lip. Well, if I had been unsure of my attraction to him, his current expression just cemented it.
Earlier I had promised myself I’d keep it strictly business with him. Then what do I do? Take him to a secluded room in my parents’ house, make him a drink, and offer to help him with personal stuff. What is wrong with me? I couldn’t even keep that promise for fifteen minutes before I was going out of my way for him again.
Yes, he’s good looking. Yes, he’s absurdly smart which I’m realizing is a bigger turn on than I thought it would be. Yes, he’s easy to be around and likes my family.
Having four protective brothers has sometimes wreaked havoc on my love life.
Nope, he’s great, it’s me that’s all wrong.
“Here you guys are.”
My gaze moves to the doorway and I see Sam and Gideon standing in it.
“We looked everywhere for you two.”
Sam’s brows come together. “Everywhere is an exaggeration. We only checked the basement.”
Setting my plate down, I start to stand. “Does mom need help cleaning up?”
Gideon trudges in and sits behind our dad’s desk. “Don’t get up. Dad and Tom are doing all the dishes.”
“Say what?”
By this point after a holiday dinner, our dad is usually asleep on the couch and we’re all in the kitchen cleaning up.
“Georgie told him she thought it was romantic when Tom helped in the kitchen.”
I press my hand to my chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve heard all year.”
Fix My Fall (The Fix Series Book 3) Page 7
