Page 106 of The Overtime Kiss

Charlie’s teasing expression vanishes, and she sets a hand on her chest. “You kind of made me tear up a little bit with that. That’s really sweet.”

“She deserves some good in her life. You and I know what it’s like to have a dad who’s let us down, but at least we have a great mom and an amazing stepdad. We have Miles and we have Birdie. And we have each other too.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, sighing in a contented, relaxed way. “We do. We really do,” she says.

“One hundred percent,” I say quietly as I pat her hair, grateful she knows she can count on me. That she’s always known that, since it’s the same for me with her. And with my brother. I’m lucky like that—so damn lucky.

She lifts her face and says, “On that note I need to grab some bread. I’ll be right back.”

“I assume that bread is on me too?”

“You know it,” she says with a gotcha grin.

Once she’s out of sight, I glance around the corner to make sure she’s gone, then double back to the frozen section and grab some Popsicles.

Well, Sabrina did say she wanted them, and what she wants, she gets.

On the team jet the next night, after barely eking out a win at home, I sink down in my cushy seat in the dim light of the aircraft, figuring I’ll get some quiet time to watch a few more of these cooking videos.

My brother’s in the row in front of me, already absorbed in a book—knowing him, I’m guessing it’s an allegory about the state of the world. Anything to make his big brain bigger.

It’s fuck-all late, but I’m not tired yet. With the team settling into quiet nighttime vibes and most of the guys trying to catch some early shut-eye, this’ll be a good chance for me to make sure I know what the hell I’m doing when we get back in a few days. I pop in my earbuds and toggle over to some videos I’ve downloaded on my tablet.

As I watch a YouTuber assemble mushroom risotto, Rowan drops down in the seat next to mine, and Ford hovers behind me in the next row.

Well, so much for my plans. I hit stop.

“You in a recipe club?” Rowan asks, checking out the video I just paused, his gaze flicking to the ingredients listed on the screen.

“Ooh, do you exchange faves? I’ve got a couple Crock-Pot meals that you’ll flip for,” Ford taunts from behind me.

“Dude. Stop holding out. Give them all to me,” Rowansays, tossing his black suit jacket onto the empty seat between us.

I can never catch a break with these guys. “Can’t a man plan a meal on a plane?”

“Oh, is it a private meal?” Ford teases, pushing his hair back from his eyes.

“Hey, if that’s your thing, that’s cool. I mean, we get that you’rereallyinto solo stuff. Just didn’t know it included cooking too,” Rowan adds dryly, with a wink and a jerk of his fist.

“Do you cook in the nude?” Ford bombards me with questions. “Wait, scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

Rowan snaps his gaze to the troublemaker behind me. “Thanks, asshole. Now I’ll have to bleach my brain.”

I snap the device closed and scrub a hand against the back of my neck. “Do you clowns have anything better to do than give me a hard time? How about watching some cooking videos yourselves?”

Rowan turns to Ford, his green eyes glinting mischievously. “Nope. I definitely don’t have anything better to do. Devon, do you have anything better to do?”

“Fuck no,” Ford says emphatically. Then he leans over the seat, clapping my shoulder. “Don’t turn it off, buddy. Come on, we want to learn too.”

Unknotting his tie, Rowan smirks and lowers his voice. “It’s for the nanny, isn’t it?”

I try to maintain a straight face, but they make it nearly impossible. “It’s for Thanksgiving,” I correct.

“We get it,” Ford says with faux sympathy. “You’ve got it bad for her. You want to impress her with all your skills.”

Miles pops up from his seat, turning around with a shit-eating grin. “You’re gonna need my help for that then. I’m the cook of the family.”

Guess he’s been listening in after all. “We’ll see about that,” I say.

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