Jaci Burton (16 page)

“I’m so glad you came,” Alicia said. “Now I have someone to talk to. They’re watching baseball.” Alicia sighed.

“You’re not a sports fan?”

“Oh, of course. I love sports. I just watch it for different reasons. I pay attention to their physical mechanics—the way they move their bodies, checking for strains or injuries or how they could hurt themselves.” She motioned for Savannah to take a seat next to her on the sofa. “So many of these guys continue to play while hurt.”

“That’s because we’re tough,” Cole said from his chair.

Alicia rolled her eyes. “And then they wonder why their careers are so short.”

Savannah laughed. “I’ve discovered in my work with sports players that they’re not very fond of listening—especially when they feel they’re being lectured to—by a woman.”

“So not true.” Cole pinned her with his gaze. “When whoever’s talking knows what the hell they’re talking about, we listen. Sex doesn’t matter.”

She had a feeling she’d just been insulted.

“Well, you listen to Mom, and she’s a woman, but only because she’s scary.” Alicia looked at Savannah and winked.

“Who’s going to say no to her? And besides, moms don’t count.”

“I heard that.” Cara came in bearing a tray of iced tea. She poured a glass for Savannah, and refilled everyone else’s glasses.

Savannah was content to sit back and watch the family dynamic unfold, but apparently that’s not how it worked in the Riley household.

“Tell us in more detail about what you do for the team, Savannah,” Cara said after she took a seat on the sofa, sandwiching her between Cara and Alicia.

She noticed Cole watching her out of the corner of his eye, though he had his focus on the television. She knew he was listening in, no doubt afraid she was going to spill his secrets.

“I do public relations, both for the team and the individual players.”

Cole rolled his eyes. At the television. Ha. She knew better.

“That sounds fun,” Cara said. “So you juggle both?”

“My main job is to look out for the team’s image, so yes.”

“And how does that relate to you working with Cole?” Alicia asked.

Oh, she was smart. “I’ll be working with him, teaching him about the Trader brand. What the team stands for, who their charities are. Basically, I’ll be making him a St. Louis Trader.”

Alicia grinned. “In other words, you’ll be indoctrinating him into the cult.”

Savannah laughed. “More or less.”

“I’m going to go see about dinner,” Cara said.

Savannah stood. “Let me help you.”

“That’s not necessary. You sit here and visit. Alicia can help me.”

“Really, I love the kitchen. It’s one of my favorite places.”

“Oh, you’ve saved me,” Alicia said with a grin. “I hate cooking.”

Cara gave her daughter a look. “That means you’re on dishes.”

Alicia grimaced. “So I’m not saved after all. Cole can help me with dishes.”

“Joy,” Cole murmured.

Savannah followed Cara into the kitchen. “What can I do?”

Cara handed her a loaf of bread that looked and smelled heavenly, following up with a bread knife. “You can slice the bread.”

She washed and dried her hands and got to work on the bread. “It all smells so good.”

“I made lasagna. I hope you like Italian food.”

“Love it.”

“I imagine you miss your mama’s Southern cooking.”

She resisted the snort that stuck in her throat. As if her mother would have bothered fixing a meal. “I do a lot of that myself, so I get plenty of Southern home cooking.”

“Oh, really? I’d be thrilled for you to fix some dishes for me sometime. I love Southern cooking.”

“I’d be happy to.”

She helped Cara take the dishes into the dining room. The table was already set, so all they had to do was lay out the salad, lasagna, and bread.

“Let’s eat,” Cara said.

The television went off and everyone piled into the dining room.

“Savannah, you sit next to Cole right there,” Cara directed.

She took her place and Cole sat, but still didn’t seem happy about it. Not that she minded. This was a fact-finding mission, not a date, no matter what had happened at the wedding. She was here to see how he interacted with his family. Nothing else.

“When does practice start up?” Jack asked him.

“Already doing conditioning and drills with the team. We start practice next week.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” Cole took a slice of bread from the basket Savannah passed him. She smiled at him and he gave her a glare.

He was not happy. One would think he’d be over it by now. She was here and they were sitting next to each other, so he should make the best of it.

Savannah listened in while they talked of family and friends, about things going on with Jack at work. Idle chitchat, and, of course—football.

“I hope this season goes well for you, Cole,” Alicia said. “Maybe the Traders will keep you.”

He focused on his plate. “I don’t see any reason why they wouldn’t.”

“Others haven’t.”

Cole shrugged. “Not the right fit.”

“What do you think will be different this time?”

He pinned his sister with a cold look. “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”

“Cole.” His mother shot him a warning glance, and he looked down to scoop up more lasagna.

“Hey, I was only asking.”

“Quit asking,” he said to his sister. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“I’m dealing with my shit quite nicely, thanks.”

“Then why are you bothering with mine?”

“Because you’re my brother, you moron. And all I did was ask a damn question. What crawled up your ass?”

“Cole. Alicia. This is not appropriate conversation for a meal. And we have a guest, so it would be really nice if the two of you didn’t act like a couple of squabbling eight-year-olds.”

Cara, though seemingly sweet, obviously raised her children with a firm hand because they both clammed up. But now the dead silence at the dinner table was unnerving. Savannah ate and tried to make herself as small as possible. She had years of experience doing that.

“Sorry, Savannah,” Alicia said, obviously unruffled. “I hope
you’re not offended. This is normal mealtime conversation around here.”

She smiled at Alicia. “I’m not offended at all. I’m used to dealing with athletes.”

“Hey, don’t talk to me like I’m not even here,” Cole said.

“Actually, I wasn’t referring to you.”

“Amazingly,” Alicia said, “not every conversation is about you. I know you and your tremendous ego find that hard to believe.”

“And you and your superior intellect think you have to be the star of every show. Why don’t you talk about something medical and leave football out of the equation?”

“Enough,” Jack finally said, giving a hard stare to both Cole and Alicia.

Cara shook her head. “You two. Always at each other like wild dogs. Can’t you be nice?”

Alicia looked at her mother. “I was being nice. He’s being an ass.”

Savannah didn’t disagree, but there was no further commentary on the topic. It was interesting that Jack only had to say one word to silence the bickering.

She wished it had been so easy at her house when she was growing up, but there had been no one to run interference on her behalf, no one to silence the endless arguments.

Until one day it had just stopped. Her mother had stopped it, but not in the way Savannah had wanted.

But that was long ago, and over, and she’d buried it. No sense dredging it all up again just because she was having a meal with a nice family.

After dinner, she rose to help clear the table, but Cara stopped her.

“No, that’s Cole’s and Alicia’s job. You can come sit in the living room with Jack and me.”

“I don’t mind helping.”

Cara took her hand. “And deny them the pleasure of dishes?”

Alicia groaned, then winked at her. Savannah tried to get Cole’s attention, but he was obviously still sulking.

Fine. They could talk later. Maybe he needed some bonding time with his sister in the kitchen.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t go after each other with knives.

She went into the living room with Cara and Jack. Cara regaled her with stories about how she and Jack met. It was sweet and romantic.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard Alicia shrieking, then laughing.

“Do you think they’re all right in there?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Cara said.

“So…they fought and then made up over washing dishes?”

Cara grinned. “Washing dishes is the great equalizer. It solves many a dispute.”

“I see.” She really didn’t, since, when he left the dining room, Cole looked like he was ready to murder his sister.

Being an only child, she clearly didn’t comprehend family dynamics.

“I think I’ll see what’s going on in there.”

“You go right ahead,” Cara said.

Savannah moved down the hall toward the kitchen, where she heard both Alicia’s and Cole’s unabashed laughter. As she rounded the corner she saw Alicia dumping a handful of bubbles on Cole’s head. He retaliated by rolling up the dish towel.

“Don’t you dare,” Alicia said, giving Cole a warning look and backing away, but her expression was filled with mirth. She ran toward the container of spatulas.

Cole snapped the towel her way and she grabbed at it with the spatula.

The two of them battled back and forth. It looked like a very unconventional sword fight. Cole, obviously much bigger than his sister, lunged and grabbed her, then tickled her. She burst into laughter.

“Oh, god, stop. You know I hate when you tickle me.”

“You started this by throwing dishwater at me.”

“It wasn’t dishwater, you moron. It was bubbles.”

He held her firmly in his grip. “Whatever. Do you give up?”

“Screw you. I’ll never surrender.”

He lunged for the towel and she whacked him on the back with the spatula. He turned to come after her again, but spotted Savannah leaning against the wall.

He dropped the towel.

Alicia, still trying to catch her breath, leaned against the counter. “Please tell me you’ve come to save me. He’s trying to kill me.”

Savannah’s lips lifted. “I don’t know. From where I’m standing it looks like you held your own.”

Alicia pushed off the counter and headed her way. “He cheated. He knows my weaknesses. But I’m still running like hell.” She winked and walked by.

Savannah walked into the kitchen. “Abusing your little sister?”

He folded the towel and hung it up on the holder. “She’s hardly little anymore, and she started it. Plus, she’s mean with that spatula.”

“You sound like a ten-year-old making excuses.”

“So now I’m in trouble for roughhousing with my sister? Does that go in your report?”

She folded her arms. “What report?”

“I don’t know. Whatever report you’re making about your visit today.”

“Cole, my visit today was because your mother invited me. This was not about work.”

He leaned against the counter. “So you’re here just to get to know me better.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s part of my job.”

“Then it’s work.”

He had her there. “I suppose you’re right. But I’m not judging you on your family and how you relate to them. Seeing you with your parents and your sister helps me formulate your image in a much better way than just reading a paper bio. It’s more three-dimensional. I can’t help your future without knowing about your past.”

“If you have questions about my past, just ask.”

“All right. Tell me how you got started in football.”

“That’s all in my bio.”

“It’s more engaging coming from you.”

“Pee Wee league. I was five.”

She took a seat at the center island. “You played every year?”

“Yeah. I loved it. It was physical and loud and I was always a fast runner. My parents said I had all this excess energy. Which in parent speak means I was an unruly pain in the ass. Football gave me an outlet for it.”

She could picture him as a rambunctious kid. “I imagine it would. What did you do when it wasn’t football season?”

He quirked a smile. “Mostly got in trouble.”

She laughed. “I see. Did you play any other sports?”

“Yeah. When my parents figured out that sports equaled the outlet I needed, they signed me up for soccer and baseball, too. I didn’t like those as much as football, but it was something to do to pass the time until football started up again.”

“We have photo albums with all of his sports photos. Would you like to see them?”

Savannah turned around to see Cara coming in to refill the iced tea pitcher. “I’d love to.”

Cole frowned. “Mom. No. Don’t drag out the old albums.”

Cara waved her hand at him, grabbed another pitcher of tea, and started toward the doorway. “Oh, come on. What fun is it to be your mother if I can’t embarrass you?”

Curious, Savannah slid off the stool and followed Cara into the family room. Alicia and Jack were playing a card game. Alicia looked up when Cara crouched down and opened up the lower cabinet of the bookshelf.

“Oh, god, Mom, not the photo albums.”

“Yes. I’m going to show Savannah the ones of Cole when he was younger and in sports.”

Alicia cast Cole a sympathetic look as he trailed in. “Sorry, dude.”

Cole grimaced at Savannah. “I hate when she does this.”

“Have a seat on the sofa,” Cara said, then took a spot next to her and laid one of the thick photo albums on her lap. “This is Cole playing Pee Wee football. His first year. He was five.”

Savannah watched the pride cross Cara’s face as she flipped the pages, stopping every now and then to smile and lay her hand on a photo of Cole when he was small.

Oh, heavens. Savannah was struck with such a fierce sense of longing. This was a mother’s love, a mother’s pride in her child. So this was what it was like.

She hadn’t known, had never felt it. Her heart ached with wanting something she’d never had—would never have. She was shocked when tears burned her eyes. She hurriedly blinked them back and shook off the melancholy. This wasn’t about her. This was about Cole.

Focus on Cole and stop feeling sorry for yourself.