“Sure.” I silently follow Gabe back down the stairs, trying desperately not to stare at his ass. He’s got an exceptional derriere.
“You alright with a salad with smoked salmon?” Gabe asks, and my mouth waters.
“Sounds amazing,” I confess. “Did you make it yourself?”
“No,” he laughs. “I have a catering company that prepares meals for a lot of the local athletes. I always order double so I have leftovers. Usually I take the salmon from this salad and make a wrap.”
“I don’t have to eat,” I say hesitantly. “I don’t want to disrupt your schedule or routine.”
Gabe catches my eye with a smirk, and the impish grin on his face is contagious. “It’s just a piece of salmon, Firecracker. I’ll survive.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I grew up with athletes, Gabe. I know all about what you guys do. I know your life has already been thrown a massive curveball, and now you’ve got a nanny living in your space and disrupting your life. I want to make this as easy of a transition for you as possible.”
“Thank you for calling Mackenzie a curveball, and not something awful like a kink or a bomb,” he murmurs.
“Oh, I’d never say that. She’s so perfect, even when she’s crabby for no reason.”
“She really is,” he says with a peaceful smile. “I always thought I’d have kids at some point, but didn’t know when. I’m certainly not happy about her mom dying, but I will never regret getting to have Mackenzie in my life.”
“I love that,” I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips. He’s going to be such an extraordinary dad.
“So obviously I know about Grant. What do the rest of your brothers do? He really only ever talks about you,” Gabe says as he mixes the salads. Placing one in front of me at the table, he grabs two bottles of water and settles in across from me. I take a big bite of the salmon, the flavors bursting on my tongue as the salmon falls apart in tender chunks.
“This is really good,” I comment, and Gabe grunts in agreement. “Grant’s always been my best friend. I love my other brothers, but none of them see me like Grant does. He’s always been my most faithful supporter, even when he doesn’t fully agree with my choices.”
“I think he’s probably the brother that would absolutely help you bury a body.”
“Probably,” I respond, laughing. “He’d help, but then read me the riot act afterward.”
“And then still lie to the police about it all.”
“Of course! He’d protect me, but also not want to go to jail himself for being an accomplice.”
“That does sound like Grant,” Gabe chuckles. “And you have two other brothers?”
“Yeah. Tristan is thirty-five. He’s the oldest, and he just retired from the NFL.”
“Tristan McNally. I don’t think I ever put it together that he’s the NFL brother Grant talks about.”
“He’s pretty quiet. Doesn’t hit the news very often. He just does his job and goes home.”
“He’s one of the best centers in the league, Cass. He’s not just ‘doing his job,’” Gabe says, using air quotes. Smiling, he continues. “Grant would talk about his brother, but rarely use his name. It didn’t occur to me. I rarely use your full last name. So it’s possible I was associating Nally instead of McNally.”
I shrug. “Tristan’s pretty humble. He’s not a fan of the media, so he rarely goes out of his way for interviews or public appearances. He prefers to give his time and money quietly. He even started a non-profit under an alias so that it can’t become a media frenzy.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the non-profit for?”
“He’s a big animal lover, so it benefits the greater Dallas area and all of their animal rescue organizations. Providing food, transportation, medical supplies.”
“That’s pretty cool. And your other brother?”
“Dylan plays for FC Portland.”
“Ahh, a soccer player. Your parents really raised three kids in three different sports?” Gabe asks.
“Life was chaotic. I think our mom was thrilled when Tristan got his driver’s license, because it meant she could hand over some of the carpooling responsibilities to him.”
“That makes sense,” Gabe says with a laugh. “And your parents still live in the Pacific Northwest?”