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“You okay, Aunt Lessia?”
Lessia winked up at her. “Never better, kiddo.” She sounded a little winded but no worse for wear.
“Good.” Gia paused. “You know that was a fumble, right? ’Cause you dropped the ball, and Matteo got it.”
Lessia lolled her head over, spotting the ball nestled safely under Matteo’s arm. She glared at Gia in a mock frown. “You did that on purpose.” She rolled, pinning her niece under her, and tickled the little girl while the men watched, a soft smile on everyone’s faces as Gia’s shrieks of laughter and Lessia’s playful growls filled the backyard.
By the time Lessia let Gia up, I was afraid the girl wouldn’t have any breath left in her, but she sprang up with no problems, running to give her dad and Matteo a high five. Lessia stayed on the ground a minute more, a silly grin on her face as she caught her breath.
“You okay?” I couldn’t help but ask, walking the few steps to close the distance between us.
“Sure.” She propped herself up on her hands. Dirt streaked her face and covered her arms, as well as her bare feet. Her makeup from earlier was gone, and her jeans had grass stains. I couldn’t help but think she looked more beautiful now than in any photo I’d seen of her. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, the shadows and reserve gone from them, and the purple in her eyes made them even brighter, seeming to take up even more of her face.
I extended a hand, clasping hers in mine as I pulled her to her feet. Apparently still pumped up from my round with Matteo, I pulled a bit too hard, causing her to fly into my chest with a whoosh.I’m officially an idiot, I thought as I instinctively wrapped my arms around her to steady us.
“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled, letting my arms drop as soon as she was stable. She’d raised her hands to my chest when we collided, and I could feel the heat of her touch through my tee shirt. She didn’t pull away, didn’t do anything but angle her face up to look at mine.
Whatever she was about to say died, and I felt her hands contract as she licked her lips, but before either of us could do something stupid—at least on my side of things—a throat clearing a few feet away broke us out of the moment. Reluctantly, she dropped her hands, patting my chest as she did so, not at all embarrassed to be caught, despite her brothers surrounding us. I took my lead from her, smiling at her softly before taking a slow step back.
Keene was staring at me, an indeterminable look on his face. Boone was frowning, Royce glancing between the two of us like he didn’t know what to think. Gideon and Matteo were heading back to the imaginary line, Gia chattering between them as the three of them ignored us completely.
“Come on, y’all.” Gideon tossed over his shoulder. “We only have about twenty more minutes before we’ve got to stop for dinner.”
The men stopped looking at us, clearly more interested in continuing the game than thinking too hard about their little sister and me—at least for now. Though Boone got in a pretty good jab in my side as I was coming down from catching a pass from Keene. We were all a sweaty, happy lot when Gideon finally called the game. Lessia had accidentally-on-purpose fumbled the last pass, leaving Gia to grab the loose ball and return it for a touchdown. The little girl doing her special winner’s dance was seriously adorable, made even more so when she roped her father, uncle, and Matteo into joining her.
I was a few steps behind Lessia as we all stepped onto the brick patio. Seeing her wince as her bare feet contacted the hot surface, I stepped toward her, sweeping her up into my arms. She squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck. Wincing as my eardrums protested the noise, I kept hold of her as I walked. Her brothers turned, and Matteo’s eyes bugged out as Lessia threw her head back, laughing as I swung her dramatically before plopping her onto the chair next to where she’d thrown her shoes.
“I could have walked, you know,” she said. Her tone was slightly chiding, but her eyes danced with humor.
“I know,” I admitted. “But just because you’re capable of walking on your poor, abused feet doesn’t mean I could stand to let you. My momma would have been rolling in her grave at the thought of her son ignoring all those manners she tried so hard to drill into me.” I winked before pulling back from the chair to stand upright. “But in the name of equal opportunity, I’ll let you carry me the next time you find me barefoot, with bruised feet, attempting to traverse hot concrete.”
Lessia smiled up at me. “My feet are fine, but I appreciate your attempt at looking out for me.”
“If I tried doing that to her, she would have gutted me,” Matteo muttered. We both ignored him.
“What happened to your feet?” Royce asked, and Lessia rolled her eyes, launching into a brief description of what had happened at the photo shoot.
“They’re fine,” she summed up. “Just a little tender, and Brody’s a hoverer.”
That had Keene snorting as he sipped his beer, but her brother wisely kept his mouth shut.
Dinner was a friendly affair, a major turnaround from the last family gathering I’d witnessed Monday morning at the office. I was pulled into a discussion of battle tactics with Keene, who was in charge of teaching next week’s class, and Boone was catching up with Royce on how the last group had fared in the survivalist excursion class. It didn’t surprise me to find the family was so hands-on. Despite owning a billion-dollar company, I knew Keene routinely led or took part in almost all the courses offered. His title might lead one on to believe he rode a desk, but I knew better, and his time with me in the ring reminded me he hadn’t lost his edge after his military service.
Jet lag hit hard shortly after dishes were washed and put away. When Lessia was yawning more than talking, and I rubbed my eyes twice in as many minutes, Gideon cleared everyone out. They tried to be subtle about it, but I caught the look Matteo shot Alessia as Royce ushered her out the door and into his car. Exhaustion faded as my instincts kicked in. Lessia might be smooth, but I’d caught Demetri’s handoff to her at the party. Someone sticking their hands in their pockets was a major red flag for security, military, and police alike. Guns, knives, and an assortment of things that could cause bodily harm were often concealed in pockets, and Demetri had reached into his several times while he made his way around the room in his bid to appear casual in his approach, fiddling with something within it. I’d seen him pull out something silver, but it had been too small to be anything threatening, which was why I hadn’t intervened. As a personal security officer, I had no right to inquire what it was, despite my curiosity, but I suspected that was why she’d kept her small luggage case so close on her way home.
I caught a ride to Keene’s house, grateful that I didn’t have to drive to my apartment tonight and that his house was just a few blocks from Alessia’s. Before I could escape to the guesthouse, Keene motioned me inside the main house as we exited the vehicle. He tossed me a bottle of water and grabbed one for himself, settling in against the kitchen counter.
“So,” he said casually, “how did it go?”
“Fine,” I said, matching his tone as I unscrewed the cap to the bottle and wondered how quickly I could get past the inquisition and on with my plans for the night. “It’s the nicest PSO trip I’ve taken, that’s for sure. No one shot at us. I didn’t have to worry about roadside bombs, and the food was pretty good—at least for me.”
He stared at me, clearly expecting more, but I stayed silent.
“And,” he goaded when it became apparent I wouldn’t crack.
“And what?” I wasn’t about to make it easy for him, for one. And it wasn’t like I could talk about my clients. Granted, Lessia was the first I had as a civilian, but my ethical standards weren’t going to change, friends and family bonds or not.
“That’s all you’re going to give me?” He set the half-empty bottle down on the counter in agitation.
