Chapter Fourteen
Later that night, Mitch smiled as he sat next to Becca on the couch, watching the game while Simon paced and yelled at the TV.
Besides being stuffed full of amazing food, Mitch had to admit the company today had been fantastic. Simon made him laugh, and they’d bonded over the dog show, much to his amusement.
Becca tried not to act involved, as if she only watched to learn of the different breeds. But she seemed to soften when Simon nagged her, once again, about getting a dog.
If that wasn’t fun enough, after dinner, when Mitch had tried to help clean up, he’d been banished from Becca’s kitchen. So he and Simon had bundled up and gone to a nearby park to throw the ball.
They’d instead “happened upon, by sheer coincidence,” a bunch of Simon’s friends engaged in a touch-football game.
Simon dragged him in to play, and Mitch had an absolute blast. It brought back his childhood, playing for the love of the game. Take away all the money and the pressure to win, and the youthful joy of the sport remained.
He’d laughed like he hadn’t in years, and to his pleasure, he’d seen similar delight in the others. Simon’s dry wit kept him entertained, and Mitch knew he’d never had a better Thanksgiving.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d swear he was falling in love with Becca…and Simon. The idea of family had always appealed to him, but he’d never thought he might find it. And not here, so soon after leaving his old life behind.
There was a magic in Becca, and it spread to everything she touched. He knew he sounded like a Hallmark card, but he’d swear he’d known, deep down, the very moment he’d seen her, that she was his. Something had just clicked. If she hadn’t disliked him so much, he might have ignored yet another gorgeous woman thrust in his path.
But Becca had more than outward beauty…
“You still awake?” She nudged him with an elbow.
Nothing seductive or romantic about that.
He stifled a laugh. “Sorry. Isn’t the game over yet?”
“Over?” Simon looked incensed. “The Packers can’t do squat with the Bears’ offense. Please.”
“Dear boy, check the score.”
A heated argument erupted with the boy, and Mitch fell into it all the way.
“That’s it, Simon Bragg. Time to put up or shut up.” Mitch rolled up his sleeves.
Simon paused. “What are you doing?”
“What my brother and I always do to solve an argument. We arm-wrestle for it.”
He ignored Becca rolling her eyes, because he saw her grin, having as much fun as he was.
“Arm-wrestle?” Simon looked intrigued. “But you have a clear advantage. All those steroids from your time in the NFL buffed you up.”
Becca snorted a laugh. “Simon.”
“Smart-ass. Ah, smart-butt,” Mitch corrected before Becca could scold him.
The boy snickered.
“Okay, skinny arms. Let’s go. I’ll let you use both hands if you want.”
In the end, Mitch won. Simon complained at the unfairness of it all, then took his consolation prize in the form of extra pumpkin pie.
Mitch sat back with Becca, wishing the hour hadn’t grown so late. That he didn’t have to go.
But she had an impressionable teenager in the house, and Mitch didn’t want to screw things up. Not now, when he’d seen how things might be someday. If miracles existed and he didn’t spook her.
He’d seen her panic a few times when they’d all been laughing, enjoying their dinner. Her confusion at the shared sense of how right they all fit together. Not just her and Mitch, but her, Mitch, andSimon.
