Page 69 of Score to Settle
I’m not sure how much of my change is down to the beauty of the landscape and the time away from the mess of my life. Or if it’s staying in a home with this family and the comfort, love, and fun I didn’t experience firsthand growing up. Or how much of it is Jake and the spark of electricity I feel between us whenever he’s near. All I know is that a part of me I didn’t realize was broken has healed. Maybe I don’t know what the future holds, but right now I’m happy.
When the table is ready, Mama hands me a glass of wine and clinks it to her own. “And you’re sure you won’t stay for Christmas? Dylan makes eggnog we all pretend to love and Chase forces us to sing carols by the fire, even though none of us remember the words or can carry a tune.”
I laugh at the image. “Thank you, but I always spend it with my best friend, Mia, and her family. After missing Thanksgiving, I don’t want to let her down. I’m sure Chase will appreciate having his room back, too.”
It’ll be the most time Jake and I have spent apart since I first arrived at the ranch and I know I’ll miss him. But I’m excited to spend time with Mia. I’m also determined to find time for apartment hunting. The idea of having my own place is growing on me, and it has everything to do with the thought of Jake in my bed.
Mama puts her arm around me, squeezing me to her. “I understand. Well, thank you for staying with us. I’m really going to miss the female company.”
A wobble of emotion catches in my throat again. “I’m going to miss it here, too.” More than I can voice.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of you anyway.” She gives me a knowing yet reassuring smile.
My cheeks heat. “I’d like that,” I say quietly as I take a sip of cold, crisp wine and watch Jake through the window. Buck is having more fun getting Jake to chase him than he is dropping the ball to be thrown again. Jake catches my eye and my breath hitches. He’s wearing a light blue sweater that hugs his broad chest. Despite the cold chill of the evening, his sleeves are pushed up, revealing his strong forearms. Dark jeans mold to his muscular thighs and… other parts of him that make my mind wander to dangerous places.
A boyish smile lights up his face, and a moment later he bursts through the back door with Buck at his side.
“Perfect timing. I’m serving dinner,” Mama says as Jake grabs my hand, pulling me close and kissing me lightly on the lips. A zing shoots through my body, but the moment is broken by Dylan clearing his throat. When I step out of Jake’s arms, Dylan is standing in the doorway insweats, his beard and hair unkempt as though he’s only just woken.
We settle around the long table, Mama and Dylan on one side and me and Jake on the other. The pot of stew sits between us, surrounded by Mama’s famous homemade bread, mashed potatoes, and bowls of steaming vegetables. We dive in and the food is as delicious as it smells. When we’re finished, a tug of sadness pulls at my heart and I lift my glass.
“Thank you, Mama,” I say, looking first to her and then Dylan and Jake. “For this lovely meal and to all of you for allowing me into your home and making me feel so welcome.”
Mama beams at me and takes a sip from her own wine glass. “Oh, honey. It’s been an absolute joy. I’m just so glad we made the right decision in choosing you.” She winks at Jake. “It’s not often Jake and I disagree, but all’s well that ends well.”
I grin as Jake shifts uncomfortably beside me, remembering his comment on my first Friday at this table, when he mentioned expecting Kevin. He must be worried I’ll be upset being reminded I wasn’t the journalist he wanted, but I think it’s funny. We’ve both let our walls down since I’ve been here.
I’m about to ask if it was the article on baseball I wrote atInsightthat made Mama choose me, but then Jake takes my hand. “Thanks for sticking with me when I was a grumpy ass,” he says, raising his glass. “And to the Stormhawks getting to the playoffs.”
From the other side of the table, Dylan unleashes a loud sigh.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifts.
“What?” Jake demands, tension rippling between the brothers.
Dylan shrugs. “You haven’t made the playoffs yet. If you lose against the Trailblazers on Sunday, you’ll have to win the final game against the Steelguards to secure a playoff place. In case you haven’t noticed, the Steelguards haven’t lost a game this season. In fact, both teams are crushing it right now.”
Jake sits back in his chair, jaw tightening. “And we’re not, right? That’s what you’re saying.”
“You’ve had a couple of easy wins, but your head’s not in the game, Jake.” Frustration edges Dylan’s tone.
“That’s total bull. I’m playing my best football.”
“Doesn’t mean your head’s in the game. You’re distracted.” He throws me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Harper. For what it’s worth, I think you’re awesome and way too good for Jake.”
I whisper a “thanks” even though it doesn’t feel like a compliment so much as a dig at Jake.
“But this”—he waves a hand between us—“is distracting you. Whether you want to admit it or not. And distractions cause injuries and lose games.”
Anger ripples through Jake’s body, but he stays silent. Unease pushes through me. If Jake sees me as a distraction…
The thought is cut short by Dylan pulling himself to his feet, ending the conversation. “Thank you for dinner, Mama. I’ve got weights to do.” I don’t miss the limp as he moves stiffly out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
Jake blows out a loud exhale and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says, shooting me a look filled with so much sorrow it melts my insides.
Mama sighs too and for the first time since I’ve known her, she looks deflated. “I wish you’d let me talk to him.”
Jake shakes his head. “If he wants to talk to me about what really happened that night, he can. I don’t want you to get involved, Mama. Dylan needs you. If he thinks you’re taking my side, he’ll feel even more alone than he does now.”
