Page 23 of The Wedding Deal
No wonder Lance wasn’t a rule follower, although it was sorta endearing from Chuck—probably because she didn’t have to cover him by law.
“You said you’ve been working for the Mustangs for seven years?” Chuck asked, and she nodded. “That’s about the time the Mustangs started losing more than winning.”
Charlotte sipped her water. “It almost sounds like you’re blamingmefor their losing streak.”
His laugh held a whole heap of false innocence and mischief. “Of course not. Just making an observation and giving you a bad time.”
“I’m afraid Lance has you beat in that area.” She nudged him with her elbow. “He’s made my job a bit of a challenge as of late.”
Lance gave her a sidelong glance, as if to saycareful, I’m watching you.
Undeterred and finding she enjoyed flipping the script and putting him in the hot seat, Charlotte leaned across the table, closer to his parents. “If you have any tips on how to best handle him and his moods, I’ll happily take them.”
“Oh, he’s always been rather stubborn.” Maribelle’s fork clattered against the plate as she set it down. “When he puts his mind to something, there’s not much changing it. Really he was a good kid for the most part. Naturally he got into trouble here and there…”
“Then I’d get grounded from football usually. Sorry, that won’t work in your case,” Lance said, draping his arm over the back of her chair. “I’ve already been grounded for three years.” He said it lightly, but there was an edge to the words.
Her eyes met his, and he faked a smile, one so at odds with the easier, natural smiles that’d spread across his face since they’d arrived at the restaurant.
A pang went through Charlotte’s chest on his behalf, and she opened her mouth, hoping the right words would come out.
“Hey, Mr. NFL’s-most-eligible-bachelor, stop hogging the salt and pass it over here.” His brother sighed, extra loud and dramatic. “I knew it’d go to his head, all the fame and fortune.”
Lance picked up the salt shaker and hurled it, hard and fast. While Charlotte automatically winced, sure it’d hit Mitch in the nose and he’d end up with a black eye for his wedding, he caught it with a laugh.
“Boys!” Maribelle’s voice echoed through the room. “What have I said about throwing stuff at the dinner table? And if you tell me that Aaron got to do it, I’ll show you what I can do.”
Both of her sons hung their heads as if ashamed, but then they started kicking each other under the table. The trash talking started, along with flung-out challenges that would evidently be settled at a football game on the beach tomorrow afternoon.
Charlotte had only seen hints of this more lighthearted version of Lance—really only the two or three minutes he spent on the phone with Foster and during their mini-water fight in the ocean. His family obviously brought it out more. It was probably something most families did, come to think of it.
“Is Charlotte going to play?” Mitch asked, and she nearly inhaled her bite of potatoes.
She coughed to dislodge the food and wheezed, “Oh, I don’tplayfootball. I just watch it.”
“It’s just a fun family and friends game,” Stacy said. “No tackling—well, the guys sometimes get carried away. But we’ve got flags, and we always have a blast.”
Everyone looked so encouraging that Charlotte hated to say no, but she didn’t have a choice. “I was born without hand-eye coordination. Or any athletic ability at all.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lance said.
“Oh, I assure you it is.”
He smiled down at her, a genuine smile at least, but this one sent a prickling across her skin.
“What?”
“You’re going to play football with us tomorrow. When it comes to my passes, you don’t even have to work to catch them. Just open up your arms and I’ll put it right inside.”
“Not if I duck and close my eyes as I throw my hands over my head.”
He laughed as if she’d been telling a great joke. “Well, don’t do that then.”
“It’s instinctual.” Her voice pitched higher as she tried to convey that she wasn’t kidding, and she definitely didn’t want everyone to witness how truthful she was being about her lack of athleticism.
Lance dropped his arm and squeezed her hand under the table. “We’ll work on it before the game. Trust me.”
Dangerous words.
