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“But this was really delicious. Did you make those meatballs too?” His voice is soft, and it soothes me. I nod, my mouth so dry. “Those were perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever had better.”
I grin, waving him off. “Please, you can eat anywhere you want, I’m sure you’ve—”
He places his hand over mine, and when his brown eyes meet mine, the words die in my mouth. “I could, and I do eat lots of places. In the off-season, it’s pretty basic here. Or we eat from the food service the team recommends. My mom wasn’t a great cook, so she didn’t teach me much. And as Tabby said, Sonya’s mom is worse. I figured I’d teach myself how to do more than scramble eggs and heat soup, but so far I haven’t. I appreciate this.”
Lifting his hand from mine, he rubs the back of his neck like he’s uneasy. Definitely not comfortable sharing his thoughts. It’s really a small thing—to thank someone for dinner—but the rest of what he said feels private, and that touches me.
“You know,” I say, clasping my hands together to distract from the tingling feeling that’s still there from where we touched. “If you’re having problems getting the guys to work together, maybe we could host a team bonding party or something.”
“You want to host a party. For me.”
I scowl at him. He makes these kinds of statements, but it’s really a question. Like he’s surprised I’ve said something, so he’s just checking to make sure he heard me right.
“Yeah.” I’m warming to the idea. “You guys have a pool, right? And this house is enormous. The yard’s gigantic too.” I took a few minutes to wander around outside this morning. “We could have a barbecue. It’s still September and boiling hot. We could do it right before the season opener, if you wanted.”
He shakes his head. “That’s a lot of work, don’t you think?”
I wave him off. “How many guys are on your roster?”
“We have twenty-three guys on our active roster.”
I do some quick calculations. “Some of them are married?”
“Half maybe? Some kids, but not too many.”
That doesn’t sound so bad. I’ve got lots of experience feeding sizable crowds. “Let’s do it. I can cook stuff and—” I’m already excited. I love throwing a party.
“June, I don’t know.”
“Come on, Duke. It’ll help your team, right?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “Yeah. Maybe. Probably.”
“And you said you want your teammates to mesh. That it’s important, after last year.”
“Well, yes.”
“It would be fun.” I put my hands on the table. “And it’ll give Tabby and me something to do together.”
His scowl is back. “I’ll think about it.” He stands, and when I try to convince him further, he lifts his hands. “Please. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
I get the impression he’s had enough for the day, so I let it go. He leans back so he can see Tabby in the living room. I follow his gaze and catch sight of her on the couch, her bare feet swinging over the side. A cartoon is on television, but it’s been a few years since I watched any. I’m not familiar with the popular ones right now.
Duke moves to stand. “Let me help with the dishes.” There are dark smudges under his eyes.
I wave him off. “I got it. You had a long day. You can help me tomorrow.”
He stretches, wincing. He’s not yet thirty, but sometimes he moves like a much older person. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He mumbles something that sounds like “I need to watch film,” but he stops again on his way upstairs. “Thank you, June. For dinner and the dishes. I appreciate it.” In the dim light from the hall, he looks almost vulnerable. Usually, I would say something to diffuse the seriousness on his face, but I can’t right now. He raps his knuckles on the doorway and heads toward his office.
I watch him go.
Duke York isn’t what I expected.
Duke
