6. Branton
“Let’s eat. Food first. Make decisions on staying after.” I move around her and open the fridge. “I’ve got leftover lasagna or beef stew.”
“Is the stew your mom’s recipe?”
“Would it be anything else?” I glance over my shoulder to see her smiling. I could stare at that smile all day.
Fuck, I have stared at it all day. Often enough for it to be etched in my memory. It’s that memory above all others I couldn’t bring myself to think about since everything went to shit because I know I took it away from her.
I didn’t witness it, the sadness my actions caused her, because I’m a coward and had no idea how to explain Celeste, but I knew about it.
Her brothers, two of my closest friends before my life took a detour, made sure I knew about the stripping of Blake’s smile. About the sadness and hurt I inflicted.
“Bran?”
“What? Sorry. Stew, right?” I force a smile, the action stiff and foreign but I hope it’s enough to derail any questions. I meant what I said, I want to enjoy a meal with her before we tackle anything else, before I confess the mistakes I made.
“Yes, I can never pass up the opportunity to have your mom’s food, especially her stew.” Her smile is sad this time. Like me, she’s probably remembering the woman whose love language was feeding you, a language she excelled at.
“I’m sure mine isn’t the same, isn’t as good, but it comes close.” Turning back to the fridge I grab the container of stew and move to the stove where I pour the fragrant beef mixture into a saucepan and light the burner. “How hungry are you? There’s probably just enough for two if you’re not starving.”
“Got some bread to go with it?”
“Yeah, the loaf of sourdough I made two days ago should still be okay, we can toast it if it’s gone stale. It’s in the cupboard over there.” I indicate the one I’m talking about with a chin lift. It’s vague but with our history Blake knows exactly which one I’m pointing at.
The reminder of how well we know each other, how in sync we are—were—is one more slash of the emotional knife to my heart. I should never have left her out of what was happening, should never have cut her from my life no matter how disgusted with myself I was, no matter how much I hated what I’d done.
She would have forgiven me the first mistake, would have helped me find a different way?—
“Do you want to eat inside or out on the deck?”
“Out. We can turn on the heaters to keep us warm.”
I love being outside. The only thing stopping me from moving out there is the wall of windows in the living room. They make it feel like you’re outside when you’re in.
I’ve spent most of my time since I came up here in that room or out on the deck. Driven there when my mind replays the past on a loop in my head.
“Drink?”
“I’m good with water.”
“Not cold?” She sends me a smirk and I’m a little flummoxed as to why until I remember the drenching I received from Oakley James. How I didn’t recognize Blake’s best friend is a mystery. Although I haven’t seen her in years, she was once a regular visitor to the Watts house.
“She’s still a firecracker.”
Blake laughs and I close my eyes, absorbing the sound. “Yeah. Not much has changed with Oakley.”
“What made her decide to go after an NHL franchise?” I ask just as the stew begins to bubble. “Wait, don’t answer that yet. Grab a couple of bowls for me to scoop this into. If you carry the drinks out, I’ll bring the food.”
Again, Blake follows my chin lift in the right direction and finds the bowls instantly. Two appear beside me before she fills glasses with water from the tap and heads for the sliding door to the deck.
It only takes me a few minutes to dish out the stew, grab a couple of spoons, and follow. I take a second to flick the switch to light four of the outdoor heaters Gannon had fitted for his grandmother who loved to sit outside on snowy winter nights. It’s the reason one wall of the living room is all windows too. So she could easily see those nights when going outside was impossible.
Placing one bowl in front of Blake, I take the seat next to her instead of the one across where she set my drink.
I might have put distance between us in recent years but now that she’s here, I can’t keep that up. Can’t deny I want to get as close to her as she’ll let me. I use my spoon to point at her bowl. “Eat, then answer my question about the team.”
She doesn’t object to the command, and that’s how it came out with the way my voice is gravelly from lack of sleep and use—more of the latter. She digs right into the hearty meal and the sound she makes when the first spoonful passes her lips has my body reacting.
It’s a reaction I need to shut down.
I’ve wanted Blake Watts for as long as I’ve known what wanting means, fuck, before I knew what it meant, and yet I never allowed myself to have her. I can’t explain why, all I know is I didn’t want to complicate our friendship—our bond—with sex. Not then.
And look where that got me. Maybe if I had let us get physical, I wouldn’t have found myself in the situation that almost destroyed me.
Fuck. It might still destroy me.
I push my seat back. “We forgot the bread.” I need a moment to get my body and mind under control. I’ve never had an issue doing either before, but I can feel the fine layer of desperation lacing the lust coursing through me and I know I need to get away or I’ll do something stupid.
Like kiss her.
Taking my time—not too much or our food will go cold—I slice four pieces and head back outside.
“Thanks.” She takes a slice and dips it into her bowl before I’ve lowered the plate all the way to the table. After several bites she breaks the rest up and drops it on top of the stew. I have to remind myself to stop watching her and eat my own food.
I’m halfway through my second piece of bread when she breaks the silence.
“We went after it.”
“What?”
“The NHL franchise. We went after it.”
“We?”
“Me, Oakley, Cami, and Nat.”
“I get Oakley, but Cami and Nat… Wait. Aren’t they Rogue sportswear… which is owned by KAW…. KAW owns the franchise. And KAW is the four of you.” I speak as my mind works to connects the dots.
“Still not just a pretty face,” she says with a grin.
“Not even that without my teeth in.” I grin back showing off the pearly whites a dentist provided.
“Teeth or not, your face is still pretty, Bran.”
I don’t want her to go down the attraction road. We need to work out the crap scattered over the road of our friendship first and I doubt she’ll ever see me as pretty again once she knows the truth. “So KAW got the franchise. When did that happen?”
“We signed the contract with the league a few weeks ago. It wasn’t meant to be announced until the end of the month but someone leaked info about the deal almost immediately after we signed, so we had a rushed press conference in New York to make the announcement.”
“And how did it go over? The new team being in Baton Rouge? That’s where you said it was located, right?”
“Yes. We decided to use Oakley and Cami’s hometown because the new headquarters and manufacturing facility for Rogue sportswear is being built there and we want the two businesses to complement each other.”
“Bring people into the area to work on the sportswear, give them something to do in their spare time.”
“That’s kind of basic, but yes. The two KAW companies will share some facilities like childcare centers, food and beverage outlets, and a small shopping mall with a grocery store. There’s also two housing developments in the works plus the one we already completed in preparation for when the first employees begin working at the head office or the arena now the announcement has been made.”
“Sounds like you’re building a mini city.”
With a shrug, she says, “I guess, in some ways we are. But it’s more about community. We want the Rogues team to be a family like we’ve done with the sportswear brand and for both to mesh. We want the place we locate both to benefit from them as well. For that to be a success, we need to be sure we’re giving our employees—all of them—and the people already living in Baton Rouge what they deserve. Treat them well and they’ll be happy and stick around.”
“If I remember right, getting a job at Rogue sportswear is like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Still is.”
“So the idea behind getting an NHL franchise?”
“Came from Gerald Cantrell Senior, actually.”
“Really?” The previous owner of the Knights was a great man. One who had been extra generous when my life spiraled out of control then went up in a fireball of hell flames.
“Yep. He told Oakley we had the knowledge and skills to do it and it would be a good complement to our sportswear brand so we should look at one of the teams in the national women’s league.”
“Oh boy.” Cantrell Senior had waved a proverbial red flag in front of four women who, in my experience, liked to prove they can do anything.
Blake quickly swallows her last bite of stew. “Oh boy is right. It was an insult without being one, but we liked the idea, took it as a challenge, and here we are.”
“Here you are.”
Here she is.
Right next to me.
Giving me a sense of stability I haven’t felt since the day I woke up to find Celeste Dupree in bed next to me.