Page 62 of The Fake Out

“I know.” The smirk that crept up Bosco’s face was a little evil. “You should have seen him dancing with Gianna last night.”

Mason’s eyes widened, and he pocketed his phone, suddenly very interested. “Dragon’s sister?”

I held up a hand. “Don’t start shit.” Forcing a chuckle, because if I got mad, Bosco would think something was up, I sat up straighter. “I took her to the zoo thing last night as a favor because her ex is an asshole.”

Bosco nodded. “Yeah, total tool bag. But that doesn’t change how damn real that kiss looked.”

Mason jerked up in his chair and spun to me. “You kissed her?”

Multiple times. All over her body. Not that I’d tell them that. Those details were best kept between her and me. But I hated having to lie. So I just shrugged. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”

“And you’re a gentleman since when?” Bosco chuckled.

“Probably since it’s his best friend’s sister.” Mason shook his head. “Dragon’s weird about that shit.”

I was very aware of that. “Anyway,” I said, ready to end this conversation. “I’m out. Got shopping to do. See ya on the flight.” Without giving them a chance to comment, I stood and headed out of the team room.

I used the car service the Revs had given players access to so I could do a quick run for sheets and a few other supplies so I could make dinner for Gi and me. We needed to talk.

But when I opened the door of our apartment, I was hit with the scent of sauteed onion.

“Gi?” I called as I headed for the kitchen.

She stood barefoot, still in her game outfit, at the stove, stirring while her head bounced slightly to music I couldn’t hear. The messy bun she’d tossed her hair up into since I’d last seen her wobbled precariously with every tilt of her chin. She looked so damn cute. I stuck the food I’d brought home into the fridge, then snuck up behind her and gave her ass a quick pat.

Jumping about a foot in the air, she shrieked and stumbled into me. “Holy shit.”

I steadied her, savoring the feel of her in my arms for a heartbeat or two. When she yanked her AirPods out, I released her and held my hands up. “Sorry.”

“No.” She took a breath and placed her hand on her chest. “I just didn’t hear you come in.”

I tipped to one side and peered into the pan full of chicken and vegetables. “Whatcha making?”

She shifted on her feet, nervously lifting a hand before dropping it again. “Well.” With an audible swallow, she looked from me to the pan, dipping her chin just a fraction. “I thought you might like dinner, and I wasn’t sure about your diet restriction during the season. Chris has always had a lot. So I stuck with sautéed chicken and veggies with brown rice.”

“It smells great,” I assured her. I kept my tone easy and my reaction tempered, but my stomach flipped at the idea that she’d done this for me.

She’d made dinner for me. That realization rocked through me. And I tried not to be weird about it.

“Oh, good. Since Pop worked full time teaching and then coaching both football and baseball, he wasn’t home a lot, so I did most of the cooking growing up.” Gianna rushed the words out, but her eyes grew wary. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” The urge to hold her was so strong, and I was overwhelmed by her gesture, so I gave in and pulled her into my chest for a hug.

She didn’t fight me like I thought she might. In fact, just like the night before, she melted into me.

“Thank you.” I closed my eyes and inhaled, loving the feel of her in my arms, inhaling her scent and letting it bring with it a sense of peace I’d never known before. “No one but my mom and aunt has ever made dinner for me before.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at me. “No one?”

It hit me then, though I should have recognized it sooner, that her glares, although directed my way, weren’t always meant for me. Like right at this moment, she seemed upset on my behalf rather than angry at me.

“You know better than to think your brother has ever cooked.” I didn’t want to knock Chris, but I wouldn’t lie to her either. “You know he’d rather be alone, but he agreed to live with me when he discovered that I liked to cook and clean. And I was lonely. He was the first person who treated me like more than an annoyance. I would have done any amount of cooking to ensure someone would pick me as their friend.”

My gut clenched as those last words left me. It sounded pathetic, but it was true.

Gi’s eyes softened, but not with pity. No, they were filled with a tenderness and understanding I couldn’t understand. “I would pick you,” she whispered.

I squeezed her tighter and pressed my lips to the top of her head. “I would pick you too.”

---