A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action

by LuAnn McLane

  22

  Be Careful What You Wish For

  “These hot wings are amazing, Macy. Baking them until they’re bone tender is genius.”

  “Thanks.” I’ll come clean after I enjoy his praise for a while longer.

  He takes a big bite of twice-baked potato and points to it with his fork. “Don’t tell her but these rival my mama’s.”

  “Your mother is a wonderful cook. And this might sound crazy but she does it from the heart, you know what I’m sayin’? When I’d come over to your house to eat, which you might recall was pretty often since Daddy was on the road so much . . . it felt as though she was feeding us to please us, not just to nourish us.” I shake my head. “Am I making any sense?”

  Luke smiles across the small table at me. “Perfect sense.”

  “It was like a labor of love for her,” I add, relieved that he seems to understand and doesn’t think I’m crazy. “Someday, if I ever have a family, I’d like to cook like that,” I comment, and then want to swallow my doggone tongue. Talking about having kids right after having sex . . . another surefire way to lose your lover.

  If it bothers Luke though, he doesn’t show it because after he swallows a bite of his potato he nods. “Family dinners together are becoming a thing of the past. You can blame it on a fast-paced lifestyle but as you know my mother worked and still managed to put a home-cooked dinner on the table.”

  I arch one eyebrow. “Yeah, but men can cook too.”

  Luke’s eyes widen a fraction but then he smiles. “True, but my daddy would have had a hard time puttin’ a meal together unless it involved something on the grill, but not me. I didn’t mean to come off as bein’ sexist. I just meant that it could be done.” He hesitates a fraction and then says, “Just to clear things up, I’m not a caveman. I wouldn’t be one of those guys who wouldn’t change a diaper, run the sweeper, or cook a meal.”

  Picturing big football star Luke doing those chores makes me laugh.

  Luke puts his chicken wing down. “What?”

  “Nothin’.”

  After licking hot sauce from his thumb and finger, which I find incredibly sexy, he says, “Oh no you don’t. What were you thinkin’?”

  “I was just picturin’ you in a little apron, using a feather duster.” I flick my wrist as though I’m dusting.

  God . . . now he’s licking sauce from the corner of his lip. “Well, I’d probably stick to a baseball cap turned backward and boxers as my uniform but I wouldn’t have any problem pulling my weight.”

  I feel heat creep up my neck. “I shouldn’t have jumped the gun, Luke. I have a habit of doin’ that.”

  “Macy, one of the things I love about you is that you speak your mind. When you and Jamie Lee would be hangin’ out at the house, you were always gettin’ fired up about somethin’ or other and I always thought it was cute.”

  I put my hands over my face and groan. “Your daddy used to say, ‘Macy-girl, you’re a piece of work.’ Most of the time I was just blowin’ off steam,” I tell him, but it doesn’t go unnoticed on my part that he really did pay some attention to me back then.

  Luke reaches over and pries my hands from my cheeks. “Hey, blowin’ off steam is better than keeping things bottled up inside like I tend to do.”

  I look over at him and realize that it’s true. I’ve never seen him rattled but maybe it isn’t always such a good thing. “Yeah, sometimes it helps to let it all out, Luke.”

  “I’ll work on that.”

  “Hey, I’ll give lessons for free.”

  He chuckles but then says, “Okay and I don’t ever want you to hesitate to tell me how you feel about somethin’. I’d rather know than be in the dark.” He dips a celery stick in blue cheese dressing. “Honesty is important in any relationship.”

  Oh how I’d love to explore the relationship part of his comment but first I have to fess up. “Um, speaking of honesty, I have a confession to make.”

  “Okay.” Luke nods as he crunches through the rest of the celery. While he seems relaxed the wary look in his eyes reminds me that he was dumped by his fiancée when his football career ended. I’ve been focusing on my own insecurities but Luke must still have a few of his own that he’s dealing with. Luke was a mess when Griff hunted him down and dragged him back to Hootertown. Putting his heart on the line again is an issue for him as well and I need to remember that. “Macy? Okay, what’s your big confession?”

  “Oh, right . . . sorry that I zoned out for a moment.” I had been lost in my thoughts long enough to really make him nervous. I make a sweeping gesture with my hand across the small table. “I had a little bit of help preparin’ the meal.”

  “That’s your confession?” He appears so relieved that I want to climb over there and hug him. “That you had a bit of help fixin’ dinner?”

  I clear my throat. “Um, I think I should rephrase it to I helped a little bit preparin’ the meal instead of the other way around.” I nibble on my bottom lip for a second and then continue. “If you recall, my culinary skills are a bit, well, I guess you could say, nonexistent.”

  “Ah, yes, now that you mention it.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “So who helped you? Sam and Lilly?”

  “Actually it was Cody West.”

  Luke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Grillin’ and Chillin’ Cody West?”

  “Yep. The one and only. Tammy hooked me up. Apparently she owns the production company that produces his show.”

  “Wow, Tammy Turner must really think a lot of you to go the those lengths to help you out, Macy.”

  After swallowing a bite of chicken wing I nod in agreement. “There’s more to the story. When Lilly explained to Tammy how in a moment of insanity I said I’d cook dinner for you, she offered to contact Cody. He found the story so amusing that he centered a show around it.” I tell him about the grocery shopping event and how Cody came to my apartment with a camera crew. “Yeah, and now Tammy has this crazy notion that I would make an occasional fun sidekick for Cody.”

  Luke shakes his head in wonder but then an odd expression that I can’t quite read passes over his face. “I guess cutting hair at the Cut and Curl seems pretty boring after all that’s changed in your life.” He silently stirs a celery stick in a glob of dip, making me wish I could read his mind. Finally he looks up over at me. “So are you going to be on his show on a regular basis?”

  “I’m thinking that after shoppin’ and cookin’ with me, Cody must be having second thoughts. Things didn’t exactly go smoothly. I was pretty much lost in the grocery store and a disaster in the kitchen. I’ll be surprised if they even air the show we did together.”

  Luke angles his head to the side. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You have a fun, engaging personality, Macy. I can see how this could work out for you.”

  I shrug not wanting to make this a big deal at this point. “We’ll see. But I really think it’s a long shot.” I want to change the subject since this is bringing home the fact that our lives are quickly going in different directions, not to mention in separate cities. I don’t want what we have to end before it has the chance to even begin. Luke has already admitted that he’s tried to stay away, and I know him well enough to know that if he really thinks he’s holding me back he’d be gone in a heartbeat. “So,” I venture, “how did the interview with Vanderbilt go?”

  “Pretty well,” Luke replies, and seems relieved to change the subject as well.

  “Do you think they might make you an offer?” My heart skips a beat since landing this job would solve the separate-city issue.

  While toying with the neck of his beer bottle Luke says, “My biggest drawback is my lack of coaching experience. Division One is a big step up.”

  I hesitate but I have to ask, “Do you want the job, Luke? I mean, you are such a hero in Hootertown.”

  “A hero?” A shadow passes over his face. “I haven’t always acted in a heroic manner, have I?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Luke. No one’s pe
rfect. You went through a bit of a dark time but who can blame you? It’s damned easy when life is goin’ your way. The true test of character is dealing with the hard times. Believe me, you’re thought of as a hero in Hootertown. And you should be.”

  He smiles but it has an edge of sadness that grips my heart. “Yeah, I had some glory days as a Hootertown Hornet. Made me too big for my britches. I’m surprised that damned helmet even fit on my big head. Maybe I needed a little reality check to make me recognize the important things in life, starting with the fact that I wasn’t invincible.” With a shake of his dark head he continues. “The funny thing is that I love coaching as much as playing . . . maybe more. The challenge, the strategy, and especially getting a team to find the heart to play over and above their God-given ability is an amazing feeling. When I was playing, it was too much about me—my ego—and now it’s about the team.”

  I reach over and put my hand over his. “You never once came across as anything other than a team player.”

  “Thanks, Macy. But over the past year I’ve done some soul-searching and especially recently I realized that for a long time life was all about me . . . what I needed and wanted. That’s why I shouldn’t . . . ,” he begins, but then stops and threads his fingers through his hair. I’m not sure what he’s going to say but I have the feeling I’m not going to like it.

  “You know what?” I ask, knowing I have to lighten things up.

  “What?”

  “I’ve got one of your favorite things for dessert. Did you save room?”

  Luke gives me a deadpan look and says, “Always.”

  “Good!” I say with a bright smile and then remembering our earlier dessert, I turn away so he can’t see my blush and instead thinks I’m flirting. Taking a deep breath I decide I can do the sexy thing . . . I did before. Oh where is the inner sexpot when I need her the most? I try to channel her while reaching into the fridge for the chocolate syrup and the can of whipped cream. When I turn around with one in each hand Luke’s eyes widen and it hits me that he thinks I’m going to do something sinfully fun instead of squirting it onto a brownie sundae.

  Well, maybe that’s a better idea. Luke for dessert and brownies for breakfast . . . works for me.

  Now if only I can pull it off.

  First, I need a sultry smile and perhaps a bit of a pout. While holding the can and bottle up next to my cheeks I try the smile followed by the pout; then, judging by the confused look on Luke’s face, I try again but realize I must resemble a fish gasping for oxygen. Okay, maybe a flirty comment would be a better choice. “Care for some dessert?” I ask, and for some reason decide that my voice needs to be two octaves lower than usual, making me sound like Miss Irma after a cigarette. I clear my throat as though I have something caught there instead of a pathetic attempt at being sexy.

  “Sure.” Luke nods and looks at me as if he’s trying to figure out just where I’m going with this, so I decide that actions would speak louder than words. Arching one eyebrow I set the chocolate down and then suggestively shake the whipped-cream can, totally forgetting that I had removed the lid earlier when I squirted a big dollop into my mouth. Unfortunately, the tip of my finger hits the nozzle and sends a stream of whipped cream in an arc that lands on Luke’s upper lip, looking like a fake mustache.

  “Hey!” he says, and I try not to laugh since laughing isn’t sexy but he looks so funny that I burst into a fit of giggles. This, of course, makes Luke think that I squirted him on purpose.

  I’m trying to stop laughing so that I can tell him I’m sorry, but my trigger-happy finger hits the nozzle again and another stream of whipped cream hits him in the chin, making him resemble Colonel Sanders.

  “Hey!” he complains again, and then arches a dark eyebrow in what he thinks is a warning but with the whipped-cream mustache and goatee he simply looks comical, so of course I laugh. Taking this as a challenge he advances a step toward me, but since I’m the one armed with the can, I’m feeling pretty confident.

  “Not one more step.” I shake the cream in warning and when he takes no heed I aim this time and shoot. When a big blob lands on his nose I lose it and would have doubled over in a fit of laughter, but Luke reaches for the chocolate syrup and says, “Game on.”

  With a squeal I duck and take off running—to where I’m not sure but off I go.

  “Come here!” Luke reaches for me and comes up with nothing but air when I zigzag away from him, leap over a footstool, and then turn to zap him with some cream. He tries to avoid the frothy stream but after years of being a beautician I’ve pretty doggone good aim with a can. I give it some wrist action and it hits him like Silly String. I giggle, feeling as if I have the upper hand, when he reaches for me again without success.

  “Gotcha!”

  This is one time when being short is an advantage. “Oh really? Ha!” I duck and then hop up onto the sofa, do a cool spin move, feeling like the queen of Whipped-Cream Mountain. “Whoo-hoo!” This strategy, however, quickly backfires since I now have nowhere to run.

  Arching a dark eyebrow, Luke advances. “Now whatcha gonna do?” he asks in a low-pitched, taunting voice that might have been intimidating had he not been dripping with whipped cream.

  “Not one step closer,” I warn, and take aim. “This thing is fully loaded and I’m lethal with an aerosol can.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah . . . I give up.” Luke tugs his shirt over his head. “Have at me.”

  I swallow hard. Oh, my . . . my. “R-really?”

  He crooks a finger at me. “Time to put your whipped cream where your mouth is, Macy-girl,” Luke challenges, and hands me his weapon—the chocolate syrup. “Or are you all talk?”

  I stand there double-fisted while visions of chocolate-covered-and-topped-with-whipped-cream Luke dance in my head. “This could get . . . messy.”

  He shrugs his wide bare shoulders. “You have towels, right?”

  I nod while wondering where would be the most fun place to start. Pool some syrup in his belly button? Slather his nipples with whipped cream? Other more decadent places come to mind and I just about slither off the sofa.

  “Good, let’s get ’em.”

  “Get what?” I blink at him for a moment since I’m still contemplating how to best enjoy six foot four inches of hot-man dessert.

  “The towels.”

  “Oh, right, the towels. Follow me,” I tell him. He follows me down the short hallway where I snag a big beach towel that says SURVIVED SPRING BREAK 2000 PANAMA BEACH, FLORIDA.

  Luke chuckles as he reads the towel. “I don’t even want to know.”

  “Good, cuz I’m not tellin’.”

  “I do remember that it took Jamie Lee a week to recover and Mama found some pictures that she burned.”

  My eyes round at his comment.

  “Just kiddin’. Although I do remember one of you in a tiny yellow bikini,” he admits as he flops down onto the towel.

  “Really?” That was twenty pounds ago. I wish I could fit into it now.

  “You’re surprised?”

  “I suppose I never thought you ever noticed me”—I pause with a shrug—“you know, as a girl.” I kneel down on the bed and shake the whipped-cream can.

  “Oh how wrong you were, Macy. Have you forgotten that you were a Hootertown Hornets cheerleader? Even guys in my grade thought you were hot.”

  “Yeah, well, back in high school I was a lot thinner . . .”

  Luke reaches up and cups his hands over my butt. “There’s nothin’ wrong with a few curves. In fact, I like ’em. Really like ’em.”

  I grin down at Luke and tell myself to believe him. After all why would he be here in my bed if he didn’t find me attractive? I remember Lilly telling me to embrace what I’ve got and with that in mind I reach up and tug my T-shirt over my head. Judging by the expression on Luke’s face, ample curves aren’t such a bad thing after all . . .

  “Are you really gonna squirt that stuff all over
me?” Luke asks. “We don’t have to, you know.”

  I give him a wicked grin. “I think this is one of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for situations. To answer your question, yes, I am.” Leaning in closer I squirt a decorative little swirl of whipped cream over each nipple and then quickly lap it off.

  “Um, I think slow is the operative word here.”

  “Are you complainin’? Because as you can see I’m the one with all the ammo.” I shake the can and hold up the chocolate. I know that I’m supposed to be doing the sexy thing here, but this is more my style so I suppose he’d better get used to it. To prove my point, with a wicked chuckle I shoot out a stream of chocolate over his chest, closely followed by curls of whipped cream.

  “Damn that’s cold.” He sucks in a breath and I decide it’s time to get my sexy on . . .

  But when I lean over and start licking the chocolate from his navel, he grabs me and flips me over as easy as if I were a pancake in a skillet. I let out a shriek that could wake the dead and yell, “Oh no you don’t.”

  “Oh yes I do.” He squirts my cleavage with cream but I have the chocolate within reach. With a squeal I attempt to get him back but I squeeze too hard on the bottle and chocolate erupts like lava from a volcano. “Ahhhh!” I yell when the cold stickiness slides over my hands and oozes onto my belly.

  Luke laughs as he tries to catch my chocolate-covered hand but I manage to swipe brown streaks on both cheeks, making him look as if he belongs in a Mel Gibson movie. When I point and giggle he rises up and looks at himself in the mirror.

  “Now you’ve done it,” he says, and narrows his eyes. But instead of retaliating with more goop he leans over and starts to slowly lick the chocolate and cream from my body.

  “Um, yeah, I do believe that slow is the way to go.”

  “Macy, you need to stop talking and simply relax and enjoy.”

  “Deal . . .” Soon I’m arching my back in response to his swirling, dipping, licking . . . God . . . sucking. “Luke.” I moan his name, forgetting I’m not supposed to talk, which wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway. “This is . . . ahhhhh, nice but what . . . mmmmm, I really want . . . ohhhh.”