Page 12 of Tangled with the Tight End

I flip the pages and exaggeratedly tell the two cousins the story of a bear and a mouse. Their eyes widen with delight at each bright-colored page.

Damn it. I’m jealous. I’m jealous that my best friend found an amazing guy, who gave up everything to move to Evergreen Lake and raise a family with her. I want someone who looks at me like Marco looks at Eden.

Please. It takes everything I have not to groan and roll my eyes. And you decided this person should be Gabriel? The guy who is days away from leaving and going back onto the football field and never coming back? He didn’t even come to his brother’s wedding, his nephew’s birth, or his first birthday.

“Good story.” Gabriel rests his hip against the doorframe.

“Oh….” Once again, my face flames with heat. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I was quiet.” One corner of his mouth arches upward.

Gino grabs the book and climbs onto the sofa as Angelo rushes to join him. I boost him onto the sofa, and they settle beside each other. God, they’re cute.

“So….” I wipe my palms on my jeans and face him. “I’m sorry I was rude.”

“No.” He raises his hands in defense. “My attitude was uncalled for. But you hit a nerve.” He chuckles derisively. “Two nerves. I’m concerned about my knee and my future, and my parenting skills are crappy at best.”

Gino points to a picture. “This is Sam. He’s a bear. He naughty.”

“I think you’re doing pretty good. Your son is adorable. He’s clean, at a healthy weight, has good manners, and is smart.” I shrug and jerk my attention away from the boys. Don’t fall into the hype of wanting something you can’t have. You’re going to be stuck being a godmother, and that’s it. “Besides, all you were doing was trying to keep him safe.”

“Thank you.” He avoids my gaze by looking at something behind me and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not been easy. I put everything before him and his mother, and when she left him with me, I didn’t know what to do.” He licks his lips and bites the bottom one. “And I’m not a natural like you.”

“I….” Lord, I don’t know what to say to a compliment. “Thank you. I like kids.”

“I can tell.” He rolls his shoulders and finally meets my gaze, causing my stomach to flip. “No kids?”

“No.” I rush to the toy box, picking up toys along the way and dumping them inside with a clang and a plop. Somehow, telling him about my pathetic love life seems worse than getting a pap smear.

“That’s too bad.”

What’s too bad? That I don’t have kids? That I don’t have a guy who I can have kids with? Or just is it just too bad because now he knows I’m his sister-in-law’s best friend, and he must pretend to like me? Or even worse, he feels sorry for me?

“Let’s eat, guys.” Marco bounds into the room with a platter and nods toward the adjoining dining room. “After you.”

“I’ll help.” I rush into the kitchen, desperate for something to keep me busy.

“What do you think?” Eden marches toward me with a basket of rolls in her hands.

“The rolls look delicious.”

“Pl-l-e-e-ase.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking about the rolls. But thank you, I followed your recipe.” She looks at me pointedly. “I want to know what you think of Gabriel.”

“He….” He’s sexy? That’s obvious. He’s nice? We’ve already established we’ve argued more than once. I clear my throat and snatch a stack of plates off the island. “He’s more pleasant than I thought.”

Eden laughs with a snort. “That’s a classic. I love it.”

As she brushes past me, she leans over and whispers, “When you two get married, I’m going to tell this story to the wedding party.”

“Stop.” I pin her with a glare as heat creeps up my neck. Shit. My objection would have more standing if I didn’t turn red as a beet.

“What’s wrong, ladies?” Gabriel ambles into the room with a boy on each hip, looking more at ease with each second.

“Nothing.” I march past him and ignore the tightening in my gut when I inhale his cologne, citrus, with some type of wood. The best combination in the world. Of course, he smells good. He’s rich and can buy the most expensive brands on the market. It has nothing to do with his underlying scent. It doesn’t.

“Don’t mind, Norah,” Eden says in a sing-song voice. “She’s usually Ms. Suzie Sunshine, but for whatever reason, she’s in a snit this week.”

If he asks if I’m on my period, or if she says I’m on my period, I’m going to punch her. Neither says a word as I force myself not to stomp to the table.

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