Page 19 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Once he stops grilling me about Presley.
He pauses, holding the last plate in his hand and scowling at me. “Natasha.”
My cheeks immediately burn. “That was different.”
Lincoln arches an eyebrow. “Because…?”
It’s not fair that he’s bringing up the one serious girlfriend I had in college. We were kids then, both full of ourselves to be starting at USC. “I was distracted. We had a lot going on, Linc. And I was young. It’s not the same.”
“Who’s Natasha?” Layla asks.
“The girl Brock dated our junior and senior year. Well, once he finally opened his eyes. She spent four months bringingdinner over to our house and offering to help B with math and painting his number on her face for every game before he got it.” He eyes me pointedly.
“Presley has never painted my number on her face.” She’s never been flirty with me, not even when she’s being funny. It’s always friendly teasing and ribbing, like with Lincoln or Jett.Friendly. Natasha was years ago.
Lincoln lays the last plate down, and then takes a step back. “Okay, bro. I’ll take your word for it, but I guess just be careful.”
I lay down the last set of silverware and scowl up at him. “Careful about what?”
“Other … people might be seeing what I’m seeing too. That’s all.” He turns and heads back into the kitchen. Margot wiggles in his arms, and he sets her down. She eyes me, then backs away, into the living room. I try not to appear too threatening, smiling and even taking a step away. But I’m not in denial about my large size. Bigger than her dad, for sure. Once she’s safely parked in front of her basket of toys, I head into the kitchen.
“Other people meaning Presley?” I ask Lincoln. “You think I’ve led her on.”
“No. Not that I know of. I’m just saying, it’s easy to blur the lines, and you don’t want anyone?—”
“Presley,” I say dryly.
“—getting the wrong idea.”
“She doesn’t have the wrong idea, because we’ve never flirted or anything. We mostly talk about books and some other life stuff, like friends do.” I watch as Lincoln slices the turkey, and then I move to do the same to the beef brisket. “And in case you were wondering, I don’t have feelings for you either. Just to clear the air.”
Lincoln snorts. “Good to know. I’m taken, by the way.” Layla laughs as she comes into the kitchen with us, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
I set the brisket I’ve finished slicing next to the turkey. “What else can I do to help?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “We’re done setting up. You can relax in the living room until everyone shows up. Maybe Margot will even come sit on your lap for a second.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I leave them to have a minute of alone time and head for the living room to coax Margot into playing with me. Maybe the lights on my shirt will win her over.
Within ten minutes, the house fills with people. Both Layla and Lincoln’s parents show up, as well as Layla’s cousin Landon and his wife, Mila, and Mila’s brother, Eli Dash, and his wife Court. Her aunt comes as well. I met everyone at Lincoln’s wedding, but I knew Eli before the wedding through football. It’s a small world. We’ve never played on a team together, but there’s still a camaraderie between players for the most part.
Besides some good-natured ribbing from Eli about the game, dinner is good and what I needed after a day like today. As usual, the combined Knight-Delaford-Dash clan treats me like I’m one of them. I’m as comfortable here as I would be at my mom’s house or with Tim and his family.
I’m one of the last to leave, around eleven p.m. I order a LetsRide to come pick me up, but I don’t want to go back to the hotel. Lincoln would let me stay here if I asked, but I’ve already overstayed my welcome. He probably wants some quiet time with his wife. It’s been a full day.
Going back to my hotel means maybe running into teammates, some of whom aren’t too happy with me. A lot of guys flew home right after the game to be back in Denver with their families, but more than a few stuck around too. Plus the hotel will be lonely. I’m not falling asleep any time soon. Not after what happened today at the press conference.
I could see if Presley wants to hang out. I haven’t seen her in person since the wedding and a glimpse of her on the sidelines at the game today. I pull out my phone, and only hesitate because of what Lincoln said about not blurring the lines. Iwould never want to hurt Presley, but she doesn’t see us like that either. Neither of us do.
I shake off Lincoln’s evaluation of the situation. He has it all wrong.
Brock:You up?
Presley:Am I up whooping your butt getting through this book? Yes, yes, I am.
Brock:Wanna hang out?
CHAPTER 7
