Page 27 of Crush
Looking at him made my stomach flutter—and I must've not been doing a very good job of hiding the effects his visage had on my insides.
“That bad, eh?” he asked, his smile fading.
“Sorry,” I said, cringing. “It physically pains me to look at you.”
“Words every man wants to hear,” he chuckled. “So how'd it go tonight, Brynn? You don't look anything like me, so that's a good sign.”
I laughed. “The kids were great. Everyone finished their homework first thing. Chloe hung out with her friend Nicole, and she made it home by curfew. The boys spent the night practicing.”
“Huh. So where are they now?”
“Oh, everyone's showered and in their bedrooms.”
Shea checked his watch. “In bed before 11:00. Not bad, Brynn.”
I gestured at his eye. “Does it hurt?”
He took a seat at the kitchen table. “Nah.”
“It was awfully tense in here during that fight of yours,” I said. “Nick and Cam went nuts once you managed to pull the jersey over that guy's face and started really hitting him.”
Shea looked startled. “Wait, the boys watched the game?”
“Of course—don't they always?”
“No.” Shea lowered his voice. “Their favorite team is Chicago.”
“What's their tie to Chicago?”
“Beats me. One day, they woke up and decided that their favorite players are Toews and Kane. I guess they wanted to root for players that aren't their dad.”
I laid my hand on his shoulder. “Aw. That must be tough.”
He gave a small laugh. “I figure it's part of them having to grow up and become their own men. Right? That's what I tell myself, anyway.”
I smiled at him, although I felt more like frowning. I didn't know what to say. “Are you hungry? I made you a plate. I'll heat it up.”
“Starved. But you didn't have to do that.”
“I think it's important for a family to eat together,” I said as I punched numbers into the microwave keypad. “And if someone can't be there during dinner, they should have a plate waiting for them when they get home. Food keeps a family together, you know?”
“I guess so. I miss a lot of meals since I'm always on the road.”
“It breaks my heart that so many families don't eat together these days—or worse, when they're eating in total silence because they're all staring into their phones.”
“Don't even get me started on the phones,” Shea said, shaking his head. “But wait. Are you telling me that you actually got my kids to sit at the same table and eat dinner together?”
I grinned. “Maybe they're just showing off for the new nanny.”
“I'll be damned. Hey, while that food's heating up, I'm going to say goodnight to the kids.” He paused with a wicked grin. “Or the impostors pretending to be my kids, that is.”
***
Shea's plate was waiting for him when he returned, wisps of steam rising from his dinner—which was seared chicken with a creamy lemon sauce; golden potatoes mashed to a fluff; and bright green, garlicky string beans.
“Wow, Brynn. This looks like a feast.”
“I hope you like it.”
