Page 75 of Nailing Heat
“No Danny tonight?” I hear Amelia ask her.
“Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “He’s on his way home from a meet. The team did well, and I think he’s happy with the results. I should see him in about two hours.”
Cassie leans over and hugs her tightly. “I’m sure that he’ll be home as soon as he can.”
Mac nods. “I know. I wish he could have been here.”
“Well, I sent him your goal, so he got to see it,” August tells her.
Mac’s head snaps in his direction. “You actually did that?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, he didn’t mention that you were the one who sent it to him. He saw it and he was super proud of me,” she tells August.
There is the man I know, I think to myself. The man who sends highlights of his friend’s girlfriend so that he doesn’t miss a game or an important moment.
“I hope he can make it to the playoffs,” Mac is saying. “I’m notsure what the schedule looks like and until we lock that down, I have nothing to give him.”
“We’re well on our way to locking that shit down,” Hendrix tells her. “You’ll have a schedule to give him before you know it. And if I know Danny, he will move heaven and earth to be at as many of those games as he can.”
Mac nods. “I know, I thought when he went to a job as a coach for a separate sport, one that I thought was happening during the winter, that my game schedule wouldn’t be impacted.” She looks around the table and adds, “I know I sound ungrateful but damn, I miss looking up there and seeing him.”
“I can get you a Danny cutout if you would prefer,” August teases her. “That way it’s like he’s always there.”
“That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate you offering to buy me a Danny cutout,” Mac replies.
The food that was ordered shows up and we all begin digging in.
“Damn, this is quite a spread,” I say looking over all the mozzarella sticks, jalapeño poppers, sliders and pretzel sticks that are around the table.
“Yeah, we give up on eating healthy for a bit after a win like that one,” Hendrix says, looking over at me. “Sorry if this is not what our trainer would want us eating.”
“You’re not playing right now, so what do I care what you eat?” I wink at her.
“Oh goody, here I was worried that my spread would be a problem,” August says, grinning at me.
“I have no issues with it, as long as I get a mozzarella stick.”
“Well, here, let me help you with that,” Amelia says, lifting the fried goodness to my lips. I take a bite, and she pulls it away so that I can see the delicious mozzarella pulling out from the fried breading. She pops the opposite end into her mouth and goes to separate it.
But I stop her with my lips. I lean in and bite the stick at hermouth, gently letting my lips graze hers without nipping them. She giggles against my lips, and I hear the ooh’s and ahh’s coming from the table.
I pull back to say something, but Amelia beats me to it. “What are we all, twelve?”
“No, not twelve,” Jase replies.
August claps me on the back. “You didn’t have moves like that when you were twelve, I’m guessing.”
I shake my head, “Those are inside thoughts, August.”
“He doesn’t know what those are. The man’s filter is clearly broken,” Hendrix says with a shake of her head.
“So, you and Amelia,” Mac says, leaning back in her stool.
She must be the mother hen of the group, I think to myself.
“Yeah, me and Amelia. Is that okay with you, Mac?” I ask her directly but respectfully. I want to make sure I stay on her good side.
