I wasn’t sure what to say after that.
Fortunately, we were interrupted by Baddy letting us all know it was time for dinner. There was a veritable stampede of children onto the deck and into the house, with Avery and Ziggy following at a more subdued pace.
“They didn’t wear you out, did they?” I asked them.
“What?” Avery scoffed. “Of course not.” He smacked Ziggy’s arm. “I was just hanging back in case this old guy collapsed or?—”
“Oh, fuck you, Calds.” Ziggy shoved Avery, knocking him right into me.
I caught his arm and shoulder, and I laughed. “Whoa, easy there.”
Avery laughed. “I’m good. I’m good.”
As he righted himself, he met my gaze, and for a split second, we both froze. My pulse sped up. I had no idea what I was seeing in his stunning hazel eyes—what thought was crossing his mind and giving him pause—only the words that slammed into my own consciousness:
Holy shit, you’re gorgeous up close.
Mercifully, he broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “Come on. We better find seats before they start putting people on the floor.”
“On the floor?” I huffed. “What kind of uncivilized Thanksgiving is this?”
“Eh,” Avery said over his shoulder as he headed inside. “Baddy’s hosting. We have to keep our expectations low.”
Something flew at Avery’s head, though he deftly avoided it. A dinner roll, I thought. That was followed by, “I heard that!”
“I wasn’t trying to be quiet!” Avery fired back.
Ijust chuckled, my heart still pounding for reasons I didn’t want to think about right then.
Despite the huge house, space was a little limited with this many people and their families, and several of us did end up in the living room, which was fine. The dining room table was designated for the kids, and there was a longer table for most of the adults. Some of the parents had worked out a system where three would sit with the kids for a while, then trade with three others and rejoin the adults. I thought about offering to help, but they seemed to have it down to a science, so I left well enough alone.
Those of us who didn’t fit at the table loaded our plates and settled onto the couch and chairs in the living room. Baddy’s wife provided TV trays for anyone who wanted them, and there was the coffee table and end tables. Most of us just perched our plates on our laps.
I sat on the end of the couch with Mix in the middle and Ziggy on the other end. Baddy took one of the recliners; he and Eminem were swapping kid table detail, so at some point, Eminem would come in and take that spot. Trews and Laramie sat on the floor and put their plates on the coffee table.
In the recliner kitty corner to me, his plate on his thigh and his other leg slung over an armrest as if he’d been thrown into the chair, was Avery. He picked up his beer off the coffee table. “Hey, Mix.” He tilted the bottle toward our teammate. “Tell the new guys about that prank we pulled on you when you were a rookie.”
Laramie straightened a little, clearly interested.
For his part, Trews looked justifiably alarmed.
Mix sighed, jabbing his fork into a green bean. “You really want me to tell new guys what an absolute bag of dicks you are?”
“Pfft.” Ziggy tilted his beer bottle toward me, then Laramie and Trews. He said something to Mix in Russian, which got a grunt and a shrug that I thought translated to,“okay, fair point.”
“Hey.” Avery lobbed a bean at Ziggy’s head. “How about sharing with the whole class?”
Ziggy threw it back. “I said, ‘You don’t think they know by now? They’re not stupid.’”
Laramie, Trews, and I all nodded, and I was a little too enamored with the wicked laugh from Avery. He was gorgeous to begin with, but he’d been so sad and distant since training camp, his stunning smile far too rare. Whenever one broke through, it messed with my pulse.
Thank God, none of them noticed me staring at him. Or nearly dropping the plate I was carefully balancing on my lap.
That was just what I needed—to mop up my Thanksgiving dinner off Baddy’s carpet while the whole team realized I’d been ogling our captain.
While I regained my dignity and equilibrium, Mix put his beer bottle down and sighed. “These assholes. When I came to Pittsburgh, I lived with Sigayev.” He tipped his head toward Ziggy. “Because my English was…” He furrowed his brow, then turned to Ziggy, who said something to him in Russian. Nodding sharply, Mix said, “My English was less good.” He narrowed his eyes at Avery. “Andthatasshole…”
“What?” Avery snickered. “I didn’t do anything!”
