Sucking in air, Leslie released a slow breath as she saw Peter stride off toward his Cruiser like a panther, all strength, grace, and prowess. And it gave her butterflies just watching. Turning to Lorelei she said bluntly, trying to take her mind off him, “I want one of your kittens.”
Sonny shot her a look of sympathy. “They got to you too, didn’t they?”
She crossed her legs and sighed. “You have no idea.”
Sonny laughed with appreciation. “Oh, I think I do, since I’m going home with one too.”
Leslie replied quickly, sitting up a little with concern, “I get the pretty one. The white, fluffy one with the gray spot on its back.” She already had a name. It was Missy. And she was hers.
Lorelei piped up, “But what if that’s the one I want to keep?”
She brushed her off. “The kitten and I have a connection, lady. We’re like this.” She held up a hand to show her tightly crossed fingers. “She told me she wants to come live with me, so you’ve been stripped of any voting right.” Leslie was more than a little embarrassed by just how excited and happy she was by the prospect of snuggling up with a warm body in bed at night, of having some company. It was so unlike her.
The brunette’s lips twitched and her green eyes glittered with amusement. “Then by all means,” she said graciously. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
That made Leslie smile until she heard the sound of a guitar playing through the open back door of the house. And when a cocky, rough male voice started singing along with the melody, in perfect pitch and way, way sexy timbre, she scowled. Without a doubt he was doing it just to tick her off. That was so like Peter.
Standing, Leslie glanced at the women and said with forced casualness, “Deal on the kittens?”
Sonny nodded and tossed her mass of wavy red-gold hair over her shoulders. “Deal. Charlie wants the male tabby anyway.”
She looked at Lorelei, who just shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I’m good with whatever.”
“Cool.” That was all she said, but inside she was giddy. The ten-year-old girl in her who had begged for a kitten mercilessly and never got one because her mom had allergies was jumping up and down squealing, “Yay, kitty!”
Together the women walked back inside, the smell of homemade cooking permeating the big country kitchen. Containers and pans crammed the counters full; the ballplayers and their families brought food potluck style. There were baked beans, salads, Sonny’s homemade pie that did in fact look legendary, and a ton of other stuff. And it all smelled so good that it made her mouth water.
Logan, Lorelei’s bull-rider brother, was in the kitchen with his sweet baby girl Michelle helping her to fill a small plate, his head tucked down next to hers while they shared a bite of melon. He’d taken his cowboy hat off but sported a crease all around his dark head from where it had been, and he smiled at his daughter happily.
Leslie crossed her arms and melted into the wall, taking a moment to appreciate the scene. All these people had come out to her brother’s new place to show their support because they loved him like family. They took care of each other.
She was thankful he had that and that she got to be a part of it. Their own family wasn’t even a fraction that close, not since her parents had divorced six years ago and were no longer speaking.
Suddenly feeling introspective, Leslie pushed away from the wall and went around the back way to get to the big, cozy living room. When she got there, Peter was sitting on a corner of the raised stone fireplace surrounded by people eating. He had his guitar in hand, picking out the G. Love tune “Rainbow” for their entertainment. Hat still on backward and head down, he was grooving to the music while he sang along with the sloppy blues.
To get to the only open seat, Leslie had to walk in front of him and when she did he changed up chords and slipped into G. Love’s “Booty Call,” gaining a chuckle from the crowd. Her leg froze mid-stride and she rounded on him slowly, like a player in slo-mo instant replay. Oh no he isn’t. In front of everyone no less.
“And neither one of us wants to give love a try,” he sang around a smartass grin and tossed her a wink, provoking her. “But then we got drunk and fooled around and had a booty call.”
Ugh!
Why did he keep referring to that night like that? It was so much more than that. And if he wasn’t such a stubborn jerk, he’d be able to admit it.
She took a step and her stride hitched, making her trip on the toe of her boot, almost going down flat on her face. Catching herself, she heard him chuckle under his breath and sing, the dirty rat, “Everybody wants a booty call!”
She shot daggers at him with her eyes and tugged her sweater down with a snap. His blue eyes danced with a naughty humor that ticked her off. Damn the man. Her mouth opened to say something snarky to him just as he changed up chords again and melted back into “Rainbow” like he was innocent as a lamb and had never done such a juvenile thing to begin with.
Whatever.
With a dismissive flip of her ponytail, Leslie was just about to take her seat when a bellow came from the kitchen and Mark came running, carrying Lorelei like she was a bride on her wedding night. Everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at them. His eyes were wide and dazed and he braced his legs apart, tossed his head back and shouted, “We’re having a baby!”
She knew it.
The house erupted in shouts, whistles, and applause, and Leslie’s heart tripped in her chest at the ecstatic look on her brother’s face. He was cradling his wife to him tightly and gave her a sound, smacking kiss. “I’m going to be a dad! Whoo!”
Then he was spinning Lorelei around, and they were both laughing and clinging to each other. Leslie’s heart filled up with love and happiness for them both, making her eyes all teary. Movement caught her attention and she saw Peter staring at her.
Riding on the celebratory vibe, she met his gaze and smiled wide. He raised that brow of his and gave her a small boyish smile, tipped his head at the two soon-to-be parents. His guard dropped and his eyes went warm and sensitive and sweet.
And she had no hope of stopping it when her heart took a nosedive and landed her right smack in a big ol’ pool of love.
It just sucked.
Chapter Seventeen
LESLIE BURIED HERSELF in work as Halloween approached and her boys made it into the World Series. The Denver Rush were hosting the Boston Red Sox at Coors Field, and the nightclub had been absolutely hopping once the Series got under way. It was exhausting.
The past two nights she hadn’t even made it back to Peter’s place after the place had emptied. Both times she’d crashed out hard on the couch, lured by the promise of a blissful night’s sleep cradled in its plush, velvety cushions. Leslie was a victim of the vortex.
If there was added inspiration for the campouts fueled from a very keen desire to avoid the man who’d stolen her heart, well, yeah, okay. So what? The dirty rotten no-good sneaky . . . thief.
First chance she had she was going to take it back.
She wasn’t going to stay in love. No freaking way. Leslie was going to just sit herself down, have a long conversation, and rationalize her way right back out of the uninvited emotion. It would work—no problem. Or rather, it should work. Wait. No, it would work. Right?
It had to.
Leslie ran her hands through her hair and tipped back her office chair, blowing out a long, slow breath.
The man was a bad health risk.