Page 25 of O Goalie Night
Will eyes the dessert as it’s passed to him. “Well, there goes my girlish figure.”
I can’t help but snort as I hand him a fork. He is the largest man I’ve ever met in real life, yet somehow the least intimidating. He’s always got a smile and a kind word.
Right now, I watch him take a large bite of cake and chew it slowly. When he finally swallows, he looks me straight in the eye. “Beth, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to really think about it before answering, okay?”
“Okay,” I answer, hesitantly, bracing myself to hear that something is wrong with the cake.
“Will you marry me?”
Ben and I laugh and Will joins in, looking like he’d rather marry the cake he’s devouring than me.
Foster chokes on the water he’s drinking and I catch him glaring at an earnest-looking Will.
He can’t actually think that Will is making a pass at me and even if he did, why would it bother him?
Not even Ben seems upset. If he thought Will was actually propositioning me, I’m sure he would challenge him to pistols at dawn, but he can obviously tell his friend is just being playful.
I wonder why that’s lost on Foster.
I come to the conclusion that he must be concerned that Will is making me uncomfortable, though he needn’t worry; I know the big lug thinks with his stomach.
Turning back to a seemingly oblivious Will, I smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he replies. “And my dad’s a pastry chef.”
“For real though, Bug. This is incredible. Better than Mom’s.” Ben shovels another forkful into his mouth and I beam with pride.
“You’re not having any?” Foster still hasn’t touched his dessert, like he was waiting for all of us to be served.
That’s sweet.
“Beth doesn’t like chocolate,” Ben answers with his mouth full of food. “Which is crazy.”
Foster says nothing as he picks up his fork and starts eating.
After inhaling their desserts, Ben drags Will to the living room to play some sort of online video game and I get to work on the dishes. I expect Foster will join the guys when he finishes, but instead he gathers up everyone’s plates and meets me at the sink.
“I can take care of these.” I’ve been cleaning up after myself as I go all day, so there’s only plates and utensils to wash now.
He shakes his head as he grabs a dishtowel. “That was the best meal I’ve had in years. The least I can do is help with cleaning up.”
I look away, hoping I’m not blushing as hard as I think I am. I’ve never been very confident in my culinary skills, but after Will’s proposal and Ben and Fosters’ praise, I might be more talented than I thought.
Plunging my hands in the warm water, I grab a plate and start scrubbing, trying not to notice how close Foster is standing to me and how good he smells. I know he’s done advertisements for athletic clothing and sports drinks, but someone should design a cologne line for him, because the man smells amazing. Like clean, mountain air at sunrise; rugged and fresh.
“So what do you like?”
Foster’s deep voice startles me from my thoughts about how great he smells.
“Wh-what?” The oven has been off for hours, but suddenly it’s stifling in this kitchen.
“If you don't like chocolate, what do you like?”
Calm down, Beth. The man is just making conversation.
“It’s not that I don’t like chocolate; I just don’t like chocolate as a base.” Vanilla ice cream with chocolate swirl? Great. A chocolate chip cookie? Wonderful. Chocolate cake with chocolate icing? No thank you.
He nods as he carefully dries the plate and I can’t help but stare at his large hands and thick forearms.
