Unbreak My Heart (13 page)

“At least you’re consistent,” I said to Boone.

“Meaning what?” he said warily.

I smirked. “Your taste in football teams is as crappy as your taste in music.”

His gaze lingered a bit too long on the Cardinals team logo stretched across my chest before his eyes met mine. “Back atcha, babe.”

Mase and Ky were sitting at the dining room table when I noticed Hayden hadn’t moved. “Hey, sweetie. Would you like me to fix you a plate? And if you promise not to spill, maybe next time you can sit at the grownups table with the rest of us.”

Ky and Mase laughed. Anton said something about a sippy cup.

“Piss off, all of you.”

“Seriously, hop-along; what do you want?”

“Some of all of it.”

After I loaded his plate, I took it into the dining room.

Back in the kitchen, I stood next to Boone watching him play Jenga with a pile of ribs. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Promise you won’t watch me eat, McKay.”

“I’ve seen you eat.”

“Not like this you haven’t.”

Just like that, I was thrown back to the times I’d ended up cooking for him, when I’d figured out he’d probably never had enough to eat. His appetite had gone beyond typical teenage boy eat-everything-in-sight hunger to real hunger. “This ain’t my first Meat-topia, soldier boy. See if you can keep up.”

Boone bypassed my potato salad, so I said, “Hold on,” and spooned some on his plate.

“What is this?”

“German potato salad. Try it.”

He squinted at the pile. “Isn’t potato salad supposed to be…yellow? And have…potatoes in it?”

“Not all potato salad is yellow. It looks a little brown because I didn’t have red onions or Yukon gold potatoes, but it tastes awesome.”

“What else is in it?” he said suspiciously, like I’d attempted to sneak in zucchini.

“Bacon, caramelized onion, mint and sauerkraut.”

“You always did mix some weird shit together but it ended up tasting good.” Boone came to a full stop when he saw the pan of brownies. “What is that?”

“My all-access pass to Meat-topia. Salted caramel brownies baked on top of chocolate chip cookie bars and finished with marshmallows, coconut, M&Ms, mini peanut butter cups and raspberry buttercream frosting.”

“Hearing that description, my blood sugar just shot up fifty points.”

“You have to try the brownies,” Mase said. “You’ve never tasted anything so good.”

Boone’s gaze hooked mine. “You want me to taste your goodies, Sierra? Lick up some of that cream like a man starved for such sweetness?”

Heat shot down my center straight between my legs.

A devilish smile curled his lips.

Anton had outdone himself with the ribs. The guys were stuffed to the point I thought I might have to roll them into the den for the football game. They rallied long enough to help tidy the kitchen and direct me on where to put the tiny amount of leftovers.

Kyler grabbed the dishrag out of my hand. “I didn’t invite you over to eat with us and expect you to do the dishes as payment.”

“I know that. I just ate too much and if I sit in front of the TV I’ll fall into a food coma. So you go watch the game and I’ll be in when I’m done out here.”

“You sure? You’ve been looking forward to this game all week.”

I hip-checked him. “Oh, I’ll be in to put you Denver Donkey lovers in your places when the jeers about the Cards stomping them gets too annoying.”

“You wish.” He held out his hand. “Standard bet, no points spared?”

“None needed,” I said and shook it.

“I’ll put twenty on the Cardinals,” Boone said from behind me.

“Sweet. Easy money. You coming in to watch the game?” Ky asked him.

“I’ll help Sierra finish the dishes.” After Kyler left, Boone said, “Wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash.”

“They do have a dishwasher.”

“Which is already full of dirty dishes.” I paused to stack the plates. “I checked.”

Boone waited until I was elbow-deep in soapy water before he said, “I am sorry. I should’ve been honest with you about how long I’ll be in Phoenix. I should’ve told you I needed a place to live. Totally fucking stupid on my part to skate around all that stuff.”

I waited for him to tack on a “but”…but he didn’t. I set a soapy plate in the empty side of the sink and said, “Why did you lie?”

He rinsed it. Dried it. “Fear, maybe? I don’t fucking know.”

I reached for the next plate.

“Maybe I worried you’d think I was a creeper if I said, ‘Guess what? I’m part of a pilot program between the armed forces and the Veterans Administrations medical personnel. I’ll be living in Phoenix and attending school here the next two years. Is housing available in your neighborhood?’” His laugh resembled a groan. “Which could actually be considered a death wish since your dad warned me against stalking you.”

I whipped my head toward him. “You talked to my dad? When?”

He draped the dishtowel around his neck and rested his butt against the counter. “You refused to see me when you were sick. Then after he happily informed me that you’d gone back to Phoenix, I…was a little pissed you’d left. So I demanded he hand over your address and phone number, and well, you can imagine how
that
went over.”

“What did he do?”

Boone’s cheeks turned pink. He brought his clasped hands on top of his head like a suspect under arrest. That movement caused his T-shirt to ride up.

My gaze zoomed to the hard ridges of his abdomen and a tease of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband. His silence had me peering over at him, half-afraid he’d seen me checking out the map to his treasure trail.

But his eyes were closed. “He gave me the address to your office and told me what floor you worked on.”

“I can’t believe my dad just handed it over.”

Boone looked at me. “Not until he passed on three articles of what constitutes stalking behavior. And not until I…” He emitted an embarrassed laugh. “Not until I told him I’d let all the bad-tempered McKays beat my ass in public if I ever did anything to hurt you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that was my brilliant idea to prove my sincerity or whatever. I just didn’t expect him to take me up on it and actually make me sign a fucking contract.”

I had to have misheard him. “You signed a contract. With my dad. Allowing my family to beat you up…?”

“If I ever harmed a hair on your beautiful head.”

“Boone. Why would you do that?”

Then those soulful brown eyes were close enough I could discern flecks of gold. “Because I want a chance to get to know you and for you to get to know me, so we can see where this goes.”

“And if it doesn’t go anywhere?”

His expression said he didn’t buy that at all.

Neither do you.

Boone touched my face, so sweetly, so tenderly I couldn’t breathe. “Please. Think about it.”

After what he’d told me? About how he’d talked to my dad
before
all this happened? How could I not? I managed to choke out, “I will.”

Relief passed over his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re really here, in Phoenix, for two years?”

“Yeah. I’m working at the VA and I’ll be taking classes. Some of the details are still vague—and that’s not
me
being vague, that’s just how the government works. So, see? I have no idea why I wouldn’t just tell you that.” He tugged at the strands of hair that stuck to the corner of my mouth and tucked the hair behind my ear. “Does knowing I’ll be here longer than two weeks change anything?”

I managed to keep from blurting out “Yes!” and said, “We’ll see.”

He continued to caress my cheek as he locked his eyes to mine. “I’ve had your face in my head for so long…imagining what I’d say if I had the chance. And now that I’m right here in front of you, I can’t come up with anything more original than you’re just so damn beautiful, Sierra.”

“It’s safest to stick with a classic.”

He laughed. “I am happy to see that smart mouth hasn’t gone all PC.”

“Oh, it has. But that’s a business thing. When I’m not in a suit and heels representing DPM? All filters are off, baby.”

Boone was close enough I felt the press of his lower body into mine. Close enough I saw the rapid pulse in his throat. Close enough if I stood on my tiptoes, I could taste those full lips. Close enough if he lowered his head just a little, he could taste mine.

Step back! Step back, step back, step back. You are supposed to be
thinking
about this. Not tossing caution aside because he paid you a compliment. Step back and retain some dignity.

I cleared my throat. “Boone?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you dial it down some?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Lower the wattage of the intensity that is Boone West.”

He took a big step back. And another. Then he turned away to rest his hands on the top of his head again. He blew out a breath. Now his T-shirt rode up in the back, giving me a peek at the curve of his spine above his hips. Nice.
Very
fucking nice.

Stop ogling him.

When he turned around I had to pretend I hadn’t been checking out his ass. And damn near drooling at seeing his T-shirt pulled against the muscles in his back. How had he achieved such ropy forearms? That was some serious sexy right there.

“Let’s finish the dishes.”

It didn’t take us long. We didn’t fill the air with chatter but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. More contemplative.

The guys whooped and hollered in the den and Boone and I looked at each other.

“I’m too damn restless to sit still.”

“Me too.”

“Come on, I have an idea.” He clasped my hand in his and we exited the patio door and entered the garage. He flipped on the lights and headed toward the rack of sports equipment.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a basketball hoop out back. Let’s shoot baskets.”

“I love doing that almost as much as I love Greg’s junior assistant calling me during lunch.”

He stopped in front of me. “When was the last time you played?”

“Like fifth grade. Why?”

“Bet you thought boys were gross in fifth grade. Bet you thought you’d never kiss a boy and never ever ever kiss with tongues.”

“And your point is?”

Boone grinned at me. “Everything changes. If you haven’t actually tried messing around with a basketball, how do you know you won’t love it?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he intend for that to have a double meaning?

“Try it. If it sucks we’ll stop. Then you can watch me draining three pointers and dunking in an effort to impress you.”

“I don’t have the right shoes.”

He glanced at my flip-flops and shrugged. “We’re not playing one-on-one. It’s stand and shoot. You’ll be fine.”

“Boone, I don’t—”

He loomed over me. “Work with me here. There has to be something that’d get you out on that court.”

My hormones launched a mutiny and seized control of my mouth. “You could take off your shirt.”

He blinked at me in utter surprise. Then he said, “Done. Let’s go.”

On the court, he grabbed the edges of his shirt and slowly lifted up, exposing his flat abdomen, then that fan-fucking-tastic chest. As he faced me, he granted me a look that ignited a slow curl of heat in my chest and the flames licked lower…and lower.

“Sierra.” He drew my name out in a honey-coated rasp. “Dial it back.”

Shit. I closed my eyes. I shouldn’t have asked him to take off his shirt.

Gee. Do you think?

“Pay attention to how I’m shooting.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Thud thud thud
echoed off the cement as Boone dribbled. Then he pivoted and launched the ball at the hoop.

Swish.
He made it.

Afterward, he sauntered over to me. “Your turn. Do exactly what I did.”

“Including the weird pivot?”

“Including that.”

I didn’t dribble the ball. I carried it to the place where he’d stood.

“Gotta dribble.”

Mine was a double dribble for sure. Then I pivoted and threw the ball over my head at the basket.

It hit the side of the house.

Boone raised both eyebrows. “Interesting technique.”

“Thank you. Where’d you learn yours?” He didn’t play sports in high school. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have the skills to play. Working two jobs had left him little time for normal teenage pursuits.

“Army. Ends up being a bunch of downtime and there’s always a basketball court. The black guys loved showing us up. Except…they didn’t all of the time.” He pointed at me. “You missed so you have an H. My turn.”

“I think those rules suck.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Uh, that we don’t play basketball?”

He laughed. “Nice try.” He hustled to center court. “Watch closely.”

How could I not? He had his damn shirt off. I could spend all day drooling over his chest. All day, and night, and part of the next day.

Dribble, dribble, dribble. Jump.

Swish.

Dammit.

I stormed to the middle. “Gimme the ball.”

“Hey, not so fast.” He dropped the ball between his feet, then he crouched down. “This is supposed to be fun. We used to have fun together, remember?”

“Because that wasn’t organized fun.”

“Really. The McKay/West project we worked on for three fucking months wasn’t…organized?”

I couldn’t help but smile at him. Then I poked him in the chest. “Stop ruining my example with logic.”

“Do you really want to quit playing?”

“What else would we do?”

His gaze slid over me. “I have a suggestion, but I guarantee it’ll peg the intensity meter.”

“I might choose that over this.”

“Jesus. Don’t get my hopes up, McKay.” He moved to stand behind me. “Maybe you just need a few pointers.”

Then his arms came around me, but he held the ball out in front of me. “Watch my hand position. Up and out.”

“Always? For the best result?”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Variables. Isn’t that a thing?”

“You mean, like a field condition?”

God. Stop with that sexy rasp in my ear.

“How about we just concentrate on you making this one shot?”

My breathing turned choppy. He had to feel the increased movement of my chest rising and falling with the way my back was pressed against him.