Page 13 of The Interception
Leo nods my way and tosses his dirty laundry into his bag. “Is your partner okay?” he asks and brushes his wet black hair from his face.
“About as good as any woman can be after getting tackled. She seemed okay when I dropped her off with Doc.”
“Any ideas what you’ll make for the first round?” Leo has been a good friend through everything. He’s picked up for me when I’ve had to miss practice to help Sarah Beth, even helped us move her things into a storage building. Of everyone on the team, he’s the one I’m closest to, even though we aren’t what onewould call best friends. Actually, he’s probably the only guy on the team I have a personal relationship with at all.
“No clue. I know she’s a trained chef and she’s Italian, so I’m assuming we’ll infuse some Italian flair into whatever we make.” I shrug and head toward the showers.
“Bring me some to taste-test when you’re done. I’ll be in the weight room for a while,” he says.
“After that practice you want more punishment?” I ask, pausing to glance his way. The guy is buff as can be already. He blows most of us away every practice.
“I need to work some things out. Better to take it out on the weights, yeah?” He doesn’t expound on what he needs to work out but slings his bag over his shoulder and nods a goodbye. “Good luck, Langley.”
I should probably ask him what’s bothering him, but it’ll have to be another time. I have to shower and book it to the kitchen. The entire time I’m in the shower, all I can think about is how I’ll manage to get through this without doing something stupid like developingactualfeelings for Layne. Maybe I can get Leo to forgo his trip to the gym and supervise us instead? No, that’s dumb. I’m a big boy, as my sister put it. I can buckle down, focus on winning the contest—which I need to do if I’m going to help Sarah Beth—and get through one afternoon alone with Layne Rossi.
By the time I head to the kitchen, my stomach is growling. I could cram down a protein bar, but that will only hold the beast off for so long. Better to get a decent meal made and kill two birds with one stone. I pass Dr. Anderson in the hallway, looking a bit confused, but he doesn’t slow to speak to me. In fact, I’m not even sure the guy notices me passing by. He’s so caught up in staring at his shoes, he walks right past me and turns down the hallway leading to the exit.
Oh well. Ahead, the telltale sounds of prep echo down the hallway. The banging and clanging of cookware and utensils only make my stomach growl louder. I turn into the kitchen to find an array of things already on the table, along with the grocery bags I’d put in the fridge when I arrived. They’re basic staples we agreed on last night, but I’m not positive we can do much with them.
“Hey, what was the verdict?” I ask. “You feeling okay?”
Layne’s head pops up and she smiles. “I’ll live to tell the tale, but I’m starving. Shall we get started?”
“Reading my mind. What do you have going here?”
“Well, you said last night that your barbecue meatballs are a big hit. I wanted to keep that concept going but add a twist, right?” I nod, keeping up. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a few things of my own.” She pushes the tote bag she’d been carrying toward me. “My homemade sauce—Nonnie’s recipe, of course—spaghetti, parmesan and—”
“Spaghetti?” I interrupt. I don’t mean to, but I’m intrigued.
“Mmm-hmm. I thought, what if we make stuffed meatballs?” She bites her lower lip and waits for me to shoot it down. I’m too confused to shoot anything down.
“Can you elaborate?”
She takes a deep breath and unloads her pitch. “Okay, we take your famous meatballs, but instead of using barbecue sauce, we stuff them with cooked pasta and cheese, then use my sauce instead.”
This isn’t what I had planned, but my meatballs can only get me past the first round so many times. A little change-up might be in order. Still, I’m not so sure this is tailgating food. “I don’t know. I mean, it sounds good, don’t get me wrong, but wouldn’t it be a bit too messy for tailgating?”
She bites her lip again. “Yeah, maybe. I guess it would be hard to manage something like that cooking out of the back ofa truck.” The light leaves her face and her entire being just…deflates.She leans against the table and chews on her lower lip. I avert my eyes because they havenobusiness looking there. “I’m out of ideas then.”
“Wait, don’t give up on it. Let’s brainstorm and see if there’s a way to make it work.” I grab the ground beef and necessary spices to make the meatballs.
“Really?” Layne’s voice goes up in pitch and her head tilts to the side, swishing her ponytail over her shoulders.
“Sure, why not? I’ll work on the meat while you try to think of ways to make it easier to make in the field, so to speak.”
Layne keeps biting her lip, but her focus dissolves. She stares at the table for a few minutes while I mix up the meatballs. When I finish, I wait patiently for her brilliance to shine without me dampening it any further. Finally, she grins and looks at me.
“Scratch the pasta. Let’s make a cheesy filling, then wrap them in dough and deep-fry them. You cart a deep fryer for tailgating, right? Wings and all that?”
“Yeah, sure. I think that would work. What kind of dough?”
“Something puffy that will absorb your sauce.”
“What about the sauce you made?” I point to the vat of spaghetti sauce she brought with her in mason jars.
“It’s fine. I can use it for something else. Dinner for tonight, maybe. Anyway, the dough should be light and fluffy, but with a crunch on the outside. Like maybe…” She chews that lip again, making me crazy. I want to toss the bowl of meat aside, snatch her up by the waist, and—
“Did you hear me?” she asks.
