Page 49 of Clover

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Clover. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Magnus approaches us, breathing a little heavier than anyone baking cookies should. His muscles are also tense and bound tightly over his arms and shoulders. The short-sleeve shirt he’s wearing so snug I can see every flex and strain. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine there, Hulk. What did the bowl ever do to you?” Rosie asks. The flying bowl of mix not disturbing her one bit as she crosses to pick it up off the floor. The side is dented, and the shelf is bent a little where it hit. Fuck, Magnus is strong.

Turning to face Hulk Magnus, I catch his jaw flexing and his hands fisting. Nostrils flare as he tries to control his temper with deep breaths. He’s not as big as Nix, but every inch of him is tight ropes of muscles. Slimmer than his cousin but nonetheless intimidating.

“Recipe isn’t turning out how it should. Doesn’t taste right.” He seethes between clenched teeth. Didn’t know he took baking so seriously.

Rosie fingers the bowl, swiping some of the mix on her finger, and pops it in her mouth. Eyes squinting, she tastes whatever it is he’s trying to make. Her eyebrows pop up in delighted surprise.

“Mmm. Tastes like pumpkin.”

“It’s supposed to be pumpkinspice. There’s a difference. I’m trying to make a new recipe for the fall macarons, and they aren’t tasting right.” Stomping back to the table, I follow as he wipes the flour, sugar, and whatever else off his hands.

“Well, it tastes fine to me.” Rosie fingers another mouthful of the mix and mmm’s in approval.

“Fineisn’t good enough. It has to be perfect.” Poor Magnus is really upset over this.

“Don’t worry, Magnus. I’m sure you’ll get it in no time. You’re baking is the best.” I try to ease some of his stress, but it only works minimally. The scowl is gone, but the tension remains. So does the heavy breathing.

“Sorry, you guys didn’t come here to watch me freak out over a recipe. What can I do you for?” his attention is now turned on me.

“I wanted to come and thank you for what you did to help me.” With that, he softens just a little bit more.

“Of course, I was happy to help. Nix really cares for you, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to someone we care about. If you or Nix ever need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, but I think you’ve done more for me than I could ever repay.” He squints at me while I fidget sheepishly.

“You don’t have to repay me, Clover. I did it because I wanted to help. Don’t think that you owe me anything.” When a mob family does you a favor, doesn’t that mean you owe them for the rest of your life or something? So why do all the Colton’s keep insisting I don’t owe them anything? When in reality, I owe them everything. Without them, I’d be dead, Braxton’s play toy, or worse still alone in Mississippi.

“Okay, but if you ever need help like baking or something, I’m your girl.” He smiles then catches Rosie still taste-testing the not pumpkin spice macaron mix and growls.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I need some air. I’ll see you, girls, later, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before stalking out of the room. Hands clenched again, and shoulders pinched to match his pinched expression. He takes his baking really seriously.

“What’s up with him?” I ask Rosie, who finally stops eating the mix. She shrugs one shoulder.

“That’s just Magnus.” With no further explanation, we’re on our way out again. I was hoping to talk with Magnus more, but I did what I came here to do.

Lily lets me snag a few of the rainbow unicorn macarons and a few other flavors on our way out of the bakery before we leave to go find Zander. Rosie texted him earlier and found out he’s playing a pick-up game of football today at the local college with a few friends.

I devour six macarons on our way to the college football field. We park and make our way to the field. At least a dozen and a half guys are on the field, dressed in mismatched and well-worn but professional-looking football gear, including pads and helmets. I thought this was a casual game with friends, but this is not casual at all. They even have a referee.

When I ask Rosie about it, she explains that for these guys, this is casual. Apparently, Zander used to be part of an NFL team, the North Carolina Reapers. He played four seasons as a tight-end and, in his fifth season, tore his Achilles tendon. Even after surgeries and months of rehab, he wasn’t able to put the strain and torque on his ankle that professional football demands. Which unfortunately ended his professional career about a year ago. Since then, he’s been back working with CCS mainly to keep busy. He definitely doesn’t need the money. On occasion, though, he and his old buddies on the Reapers play a friendly game together with some local college kids like a community outreach thing.

We stand on the sidelines and watch the guys set up a play and call out some random numbers before hiking the ball and ramming into one another. I know football on a basic level but nothing more. I know it’s a touchdown and a field goal. There’s interceptions and sacks on the quarterback. Do I know what penalties are which and why grabbing is a no-no here but totally ok there? Not a fucking clue. Which means I can follow along just enough to enjoy the game.

Zander is playing his old position, offensive tight end. He sees us and waves before resetting into position. Another ten minutes goes by while they play. I watch Zander. He plays well. I can tell he favors one side over the other. Trying to keep the strain off his bad ankle. Once or twice it's obvious it slows him down or hinders his playing. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a professional football player and have your career cut short because of an injury. From what I know, he didn’t go to college, barely graduated high school, and football was his life. The only thing he loves more than his family.

They break, and every tall, built, sweaty guy swarms the sideline. Each removing their helmet on their way, and they are a handsome bunch of guys if I do say so. Rosie seems to agree with me as I watch her stalking them with her eyes. Watching their every move but making no effort to flirt or seduce them with her killer curves. Instead, she just watches with veiled interest. Not sure if she’s really interested or if she just likes the view.

Zander catches my eye that classic Zander smile plastered across his face. Looking happier than he did before. Skin glistening in the afternoon sun as he strips off the pads down to a t-shirt. The edges of his tattoos peek out from the collar and reach down his arms to his elbows. I don’t get a good look at it through all the sweaty men and giant body pads.

Before he comes to meet us, he chugs a bottle of water and wipes off his face and neck sweat. Thank fuck because he gathers me in his arms and squeezes, lifting me off my feet in a giant bear hug. I knew he was a great hugger. He smells like sweat, hot man, and mint. Although I wasn’t expecting one, I more than welcome it. Hugging him back as well as my short arms wrapped around his bulky body can. He’s just as big as Nix, at least.

Finally, after holding me for a little longer than Nix would have been comfortable with, Zander sets me on my feet and gives Rosie a similar squeeze but without picking her up.

“So, what do I owe this honor?”

“I wanted to come and thank you in person for what you did for me.” Since we’re out in public, I won't mention any specifics. I don’t know who these other guys are and if they know anything about the Colton’s and theirbusinesses.

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