Stormy and Sam disappeared into the kitchen.
“Boss me, Sam. Tell me what to do,” he heard the little redhead say. She was tying on an apron, when Devon wandered in for another brew. His gaze swept over his sister’s friend from the back. She was slim, but had an amazing butt, nicely outlined in a pair of worn jeans.
He smiled when she turned to him.
“Are you checking me out?”
“Maybe.”
“Thought you had a girlfriend.”
“I do. No harm in looking.” He popped the top and stared at her. He made a mental note to slow down on the beer, as he needed to work out the next day.
“Here, get a really good look,” Stormy said, pulling her hair back and thrusting her face at him. “You wanna know what happened? A guy hit me. That’s right. End of story.” She dropped the curtain of hair over her bruises and headed toward the refrigerator.
Devon grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Ouch.”
He pushed up her sleeve to expose an angry red mark.
“Oh, I forgot that one,” she said, pushing away from him and yanking the fabric down again.
“Don’t be so defensive.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Her eyes flashed attitude at him.
“No, you don’t.”
“Little slut got what she deserved,” Stormy spit out.
Devon stepped back as if he’d been slapped.
“That’s what my parents said,” she whispered. “I’m going to shut up now.”
Devon closed his long fingers over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Stormy. Really sorry.”
Her clear blue eyes clouded, but the tense, drawn quality in her face relaxed. “It’s okay. They don’t hurt much anymore.”
“Where is this asshole?”
“A thousand miles away.”
He patted her unblemished cheek. “Good. Then I don’t have to kill him.”
Stormy smiled. “I’ve got a cake to frost.” She moved away to join Sam.
He returned to warm himself in front of the fire. His brow creased as he stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle. His long fingers wrapped around the cold can of beer. When he finished the brew, he squashed the empty can and made tracks for the kitchen. “Anything I can do?”
“Nope. Dinner in five,” Samantha said.
He stopped at the door to throw a mischievous look at Stormy. “By the way, it wasn’t your face I was looking at.” He retreated to the living room to the sound of laughter.
Devon plopped down on the couch and rubbed his neck, attempting to ease the tension in the muscles. The Kings had fought like wild men to reach this point in their quest to capture the Super Bowl for the second year in a row. Coach Bass, usually relaxed around the team, had been increasingly moody and tense as the day of the big game drew near.
The footballer chuckled to himself. Coach was getting married after the season ended. Maybe that’s making him nervous. Jo Parker, Coach Bass’s fiancée, was one beautiful woman. He got goofy around her sometimes, making the team snicker and tease. The cornerback’s thoughts turned to his girlfriend. Why don’t I behave like that around Jackie?
Stormy came up behind him. He felt her fingers close on his shoulders and knead the tense flesh. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the massage.
“God, you’re tight,” she muttered.
“Feels great.”
She shifted the pressure to her thumbs as she worked on the knots.
“You could do this for a living.”
She laughed. “I just do it for friends.”
A faint scent of something clean and fresh penetrated the mouth-watering aromas of dinner cooking and drifted to his nostrils. Stormy smelled good. Horniness reared up in Devon. The idea of pulling her onto the sofa with him for some hot lovemaking stirred his blood. She’s a friend. Can’t cheat on Jackie. Stormy probably doesn’t want to anyway. But any woman who could touch him like that made him wonder what she’d be like between the sheets.
He stood up before he did something inappropriate, like kissing her. “Thanks, that was great.”
“You’re welcome.”
With a touch of pink in her cheeks, she looked beautiful. Her slightly pouty lips drew his gaze. Horny bastard. Stop. He forced himself to look up, but her clear blue eyes caught and held his. What the hell? The soulful look she sent him hinted at an unhappiness deep inside. He knit his brows, curious to know what was behind the sadness that seeped from her pores.
“Dinner,” Samantha hollered.
Devon followed Stormy to the kitchen. The table looked beautiful. Someone had taken a few, small, pine boughs from outside, woven them together, and created an artful centerpiece. The nice china and good silver that Samantha had insisted he buy were on display, shiny and colorful. Sam has good taste.
A large pan of lasagna commanded center stage. A teak salad bowl sat at the other end. A basket of garlic bread rested opposite.
“Holy shit. This looks amazing.” Devon’s appetite for love would have to be satisfied with delicious food instead.
“No swearing,” Samantha admonished.
“Who are you, Mom? My house, my words.”
Sam shot him a sharp glance. They sat down and said grace.
“I didn’t know you could do stuff like that,” Devon said, indicating the centerpiece. “It’s nice.” He reached for the salad while his sister cut the pasta.
“Stormy did it.”
“Good job.” Devon gave her a brief nod then took a big helping of greens. His stomach responded to the tempting smell of his favorite ginger and sesame dressing.
“Salad?” He raised his eyebrows and looked to Stormy. She passed her plate.
Sam doled out portions of lasagna. Steam rose from the tantalizing main dish.
Devon took a deep breath and grinned. “You’re an amazing cook, Sam.”
“Stormy’s even better. She’s the one who got an A in home ec,” Samantha said, before shoveling a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.
Stormy blushed and ducked her head. “Am not.”
Talk was lost to the sound of chewing and the moans of pleasure as the meal was consumed. Devon was closer to Samantha than anyone else in their family. They were the last two, with a gap of ten years between him and the next sibling. Their parents had passed on, and the older sibs lived out West.
As the years passed, their battles had simmered down from frequent to occasional. Sam had moved with Devon to Connecticut when he had signed with the Kings. She had been cooking his favorite foods ever since. Love for her swelled in his heart.
Between bites, Samantha and Stormy chatted about plans for the New Life Shelter. The women asked Devon questions about the upcoming game.
“We’re playing the Sidewinders. They’re good. And they’ve got Jeremiah West. He’s huge, known for messing guys up on purpose. Everyone’s afraid of him. He’s done some pretty nasty stuff.”
When they finished the main course, Stormy brought out the double chocolate cake she had made. The icing was so dark it was almost black. “This is a dark chocolate frosting. Never made it before.”
“Looks great.”
“How can you have room?” Samantha asked.
“Easy. Bring it on.” Devon patted his stomach. He had eaten too much, but the treat was alluring. “I can squeeze in a piece. But I’m reserving another one for later.”
Stormy grinned at him. “This is the same cake my mom used to make.”
“Really? Fantastic.” Devon’s mouth watered at the memory of Mrs. Gregory’s chocolate cake. She’d send it over from time to time to help out Mrs. Drake, who was sometimes overwhelmed by her six children. Dev remembered being extra good on those days to make sure he got a slice. “How are your folks?”
There was quiet as they tucked into the luscious confection.
Devon watched Stormy eat and avoid his stare. What’s up? “Well?”
“They’re okay, I guess. Haven’t heard otherwise,” was her clipped response.
“Don’t you talk to them?” he asked.
“Haven’t in a while.”
Sam shot him an angry look and put her finger to her lips.
“I’m just being polite, Sam.”
She smacked her forehead with her hand.
Stormy patted her friend’s arm. “It’s okay. They’re not speaking to me right now. We had a falling out.”
Stormy patted her friend’s arm. “It’s okay. They’re not speaking to me right now. We had a falling out.”
“What happened?” Devon put a forkful of cake in his mouth.
“I helped out a friend, and they didn’t like it. End of story.”
“Sounds like the beginning,” Devon mumbled, eating the last morsel on his plate.
“Coffee, anyone?” Samantha asked, scowling at her brother. Devon stood up and helped clear the table. Stormy hustled into the kitchen and began washing dishes.
