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Dad was the first to arrive, looking more than a little impressed.
"I thought you couldn't cook?" he questioned, looking skeptical. I'd be offended if it weren't true.
"It's pizza, you can't fuck up pizza especially with an oven like this and premade dough," I admitted. "Plus, chopping stuff up for a salad isn't really cooking."
Seeing all fifteen of the players walking in was intimidating. They were all tall and built like brick walls, with the exception of a few dad bods. They lined up, studying me curiously as I grabbed out plates.
"Who's the vegetarian? He goes first."
"Watch out for the man, boys," a guy with curly, red hair said, coming up and giving me a wink. "I'm Lance Bryant, at your service."
"Cheese or veggie, Lance?" I asked with a smile. "Cut and made first so no cross contamination to worry about."
He looked shocked by the news.
"Really, thanks," he said, his voice genuine. "Hit me with a couple of each?"
Brock moved behind him and Lance side-eyed him.
"Wait your turn, Captain," he teased. Brock rolled his eyes but dropped his bag to the side and came around, stepping in beside me without a word.
He took the next order while I worked on finishing Lance's plate. It was hard to focus while brushing arms with a literal god of a man. I swear my blood pressure skyrocketed with each touch.
Working with help made serving take half the time at least and by the time I sent Dad off with a full plate, I felt accomplished.
And exhausted.
"Did you eat?" Brock demanded, narrowing his eyes at me. The way his fierce, brown eyes studied me made it seem like he could see right through me.
"No?" Why was I making it a question?
"Eat," he ordered, crossing his arms and watching me until I'd put a piece of pizza on the plate. I looked up at him expectantly and he nodded back at the leftovers, which weren't a lot. When I added one more on, he nodded. "Good girl."
With that, he walked away like he hadn't just melted my panties right off my body.
ChapterFive
Elias
"That bastard got rid of her dog," Tate thundered as he walked into our living room. We had just walked in the door and dropped our bags, he hadn't even given us a chance to sit.
"What?" Brock asked, confused.
"Macy," he clarified. "Today I walked up and she was distracted, staring out of the window. Fuck, I've never seen anyone look so damn sad. We have to find it."
"The dog? How?" I demanded with a shocked laugh. "Who are you?"
Brock, however, was already pulling his laptop off the counter and moving to the couch. Tate smirked at me like he'd won some type of battle before settling next to Brock.
What was even happening?
"It was a pug," Brock announced, "named Roscoe."
"Where did he end up? We can't just steal him from a new family, Brock," I pointed out.
"Watch me," Tate growled. "You didn't see her face."
"You can't fix her broken heart with a pug, bro," I argued. "Why the hell amIthe voice of reason here?"
