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With eyebrows raised, he glanced at the floorboards and kicked away the muffin wrapper she’d tossed there this morning. It had joined the junk mail she’d picked up from her father’s post office box and still hadn’t thrown away.
“Last year some time?” He asked the question mildly, as if testing her mood.
“I think it was June,” she admitted.
“I’ll take care of it for you. You should have told me.” He settled his plate on his lap and dug into the steaming plate of turkey and stuffing. Her mouth watered. Even though she’d eaten at the Hannigans’ house, they were vegetarian and had served lentil loaf as the main dish. Nothing against lentils—she made a damn good soup that the boys loved—but you couldn’t stuff a lentil loaf.
She inhaled the warm aroma, smelling mushrooms, sage, turkey juices. “You don’t have to clean my car.” The fact that she really, really wanted some of that stuffing gave an extra edge to her voice.
“I know. It’s just an offer. You can put it on the list now that I’m back.”
That was one of their post-divorce traditions. When the season ended, he came back to town and dealt with logistical shit like car repairs, house repairs, bike repairs, and any other tasks she could come up with.
“The list is already very long,” she warned him.
“Good. Keeps me out of trouble.”
She wished he hadn’t said that, because it reminded her of all the trouble he’d gotten into since she’d known him. He’d been such a wild and reckless kid when they’d gotten together. “Billy Club, staying out of trouble? I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Believe it, baby. I didn’t go to a single club this season. The guys nearly staged an intervention.”
Whatever. Clubs were just a handy way to blow off steam. Women had a way of finding Billy no matter where he was.
Not that he’d cheated on her—she was almost completely sure he hadn’t—but worrying about it had just about driven her mad. The contrast between her daily life of diaper changing and toddler-wrangling and his life of adoring fans and workouts had been impossible to reconcile. Add in some shady rumors and the fact that they were so damn young…and her lifelong struggle with anxiety…
She shook off her thoughts. Life was so much calmer in the divorced phase of their relationship. And she had to hand it to him—Billy made a rock-solid and reliable ex-husband.
“Really? I’m surprised the clubs of the Twin Cities didn’t go out of business,” she said lightly, knowing he wouldn’t take offense. They’d always had fun teasing each other.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”
“I told you, I already ate at the Hannigans’.” Still, she couldn’t keep from eyeing his plate of food. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
“What’d they serve, kale salad?”
“No, don’t be silly. They went all out and made a lentil loaf. I think it was supposed to be in the shape of a turkey? But it was more of a brownish-greenish-grayish blob.”
They both laughed. In the old days, they’d been close to the Hannigans and choked down many a meal with them before gorging on cheeseburgers when they got home.
“Here.” He filled a fork with a mix of turkey and stuffing and offered it to her. “Gotta love the Hannigans, but you should treat yourself on Thanksgiving.”
She stared at the fork, weighing the implications. Eating off each other’s plates was a couple thing to do. Allowing herself to be fed by Billy, even more so. But sweet mama, did it look good. And there wasn’t anything specific against it in the “rules.”
She compromised and took the fork from him so she could feed herself. It tasted so good that she moaned in appreciation, closing her eyes, the better to savor the delicious bite. “Oh my God,” she murmured.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d fixed his gaze on the front door of the house, as if he was deliberately trying not to watch her eat.
Or maybe he was wishing he was back inside with his family. Yeah, that made more sense, since their days of lusting after every little thing about each other were over.
“You can go back inside,” she told Billy. “I’m fine out here. You could leave the plate,” she added, snagging another bite of stuffing.
“I’m good here.” His easy tone, that deep voice, sent a prickle along her skin. “I actually need to talk to you about some things.”
“Important things?”
“Yes.”
Her thoughts scattered in a thousand different directions. Had he met someone? Was he getting married? Did he want to change the amount of child support he sent? Was it about the kids? Maybe he wanted Zack to join Little League, which might be okay, except Zack was obsessed with hockey. But it was natural for a baseball player to want his son to love the game too.
