Part 13 (1/2)
”Jule.” Heather hurries to keep up with me. She touches my arm. ”You could forgive him, you know. You guys could work through it.”
”No.” My voice hardens. ”I can't. I can't even stand to look at him, sometimes.”
Heather opens her mouth, then clamps it shut. She shakes her head. ”You're right. Why would I try to convince you to take him back? He's a disaster. Let's get some ice cream and forget this conversation ever happened. Except the part about Sloane, because I really want to know everything there is to know about that foxy b.i.t.c.h.”
”I don't even know if she swings that way, Heather.”
”It's okay. If she's into dudes, I'll make it work.”
I don't even know what she means by that. Really don't want to.
Chapter 12.
I get back from Dad's around two in the afternoon, and immediately head into the kitchen. Mack texts me to let me know Nick will be hanging out with us, so I double everything I make. I really only mean to make the lasagna, but somehow I end up with sausage paella and banana m.u.f.fins as side dishes. I tend to cook like a fiend when I have a lot on my mind. I'm sure it won't go to waste, not with those guys around.
Mack texts me that he's back from church, so I load up my car with the steaming hot dishes, and head over to his house. I've never been there before, but I know the area, so I'm confident I can find it.
The Aina house is a sprawling ranch style property, not too far from Nick's place. Mack gives me a tour of the inside, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. The house is cluttered with knick knacks! There are Precious Moments figurines displayed everywhere: in huge gla.s.s cases, over the mantel, on shelves running along the walls of the living room-on almost every available surface of the kitchen. There are Precious Moments salt and pepper shakers! A boy and a girl stare at me with dead eyes when I pick them up to examine them.
Speaking of Mack's kitchen. No wonder he always wants me to cook for him. He shows me the contents of his refrigerator and pantry, and I think there must be some kind of mistake-is this where they keep their animal feed?
”Alfalfa,” Mack says in an injured tone of voice. ”Now how the h.e.l.l am I suppose to feed these bad boys eating nothing but rabbit food all day?” He flexes his ma.s.sive arms, muscles bulging and veins popping. Yeah, they look hungry.
He leads me outside to the pool area, and it more than makes up for the inside. The large kidney-shaped pool is surrounded by palm trees, and Tiki torches staked into the planter bordering the area. There is the cutest Tiki bar set up in the corner, and I swear I smell coconut-scented sunscreen in the air. If I had a set up like this, I would spend every day on one of the chaise lounges, basking in the sun and my wealth.
We put my covered dishes on a large gla.s.s table that Mack has already set with plates and silverware. Boys never seem to remember napkins, though, so I go into the kitchen to grab some.
When I come back out, Nick is letting himself in from the side gate. He looks so relaxed and cheerful, I'm almost willing to forgive him for his part in Johnny's boy band scheme.
”Ouch,” I say when I spot the huge yellowing bruise on his calf. ”What's that from?”
”That's a souvenir from Friday's game,” he says wryly, lifting his foot and examining the bruise. ”Courtesy of Number 23.”
Mack snorts, placing a pitcher of iced tea in the center of the table. ”Little punk. Me and Johnny got him back good for you, though, huh?”
Nick grins. ”Yeah, you did. Never saw a guy cry for his mommy like that.” He plops down at the table, settling the backwards baseball cap on his head more securely.
”Rough game?” I ask sympathetically.
Nick shrugs. ”Larrabee's pretty tough. They really stepped up their defense this year. I think they could make the playoffs.”
”So, what? We'll still stomp their a.s.ses, like we did Friday,” Mack says with complete confidence. He stares intently at the Mexican lasagna as he lovingly unwraps the foil covering.
”Did, uh, anyone else get hurt?” I try to ask casually.
”Nah, Adler's the only p.u.s.s.y on the team,” Mack says with a sly grin.
”Excuse me, did you see the size of the guy who took me down? He made you look delicate.”
I have to laugh at Mack's unamused expression. ”Let's eat before the food gets cold,” I suggest quickly.
Mack immediately brightens. It's a good thing I made so much, because they guys just inhale everything. I'm ridiculously pleased with their over-the-top compliments on my cooking skills-which is just mediocre, to tell the truth.
”Oh, s.h.i.+t,” Nick groans, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his flat stomach. ”I ate so much, I can't breathe.”
Mack leans forward, peering into the lasagna pan. He immediately glares at Nick. ”Tell me you didn't eat that last piece.”
Nick tilts his head to look at him. ”Are you kidding me, Mack? You ate, like, half the pan.”
”Maybe I was saving that last piece for a late night snack.”
”Mack, I can make you more,” I say. I hand him a banana m.u.f.fin as a peace offering.
He flashes me a brilliant smile, brown eyes glowing as he accepts the m.u.f.fin. ”Thank you, beautiful girl. If I could move right now, I would give you a big ol' sloppy kiss.”
I laugh, leaning back and basking in the late afternoon sun like a lizard on a rock. ”You could always serenade me again.”
Mack chuckles, while Nick shakes his head in embarra.s.sment.
”Yeah, sorry about that,” Nick says sheepishly, scratching at the light stubble on his chin. ”It was a bad idea.”
”What are you talking about?” Mack protests in a deep jolly voice. ”Man, it was awesome. Everyone loved us! I still think we should form a group. Check it out-we could call it 'Mack and Those Other Guys.'”
He spreads his hands in the air as if conjuring those words in the s.p.a.ce in front of him. Nick and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
”What?” Mack says, looking offended. ”That's awesome, right?”
”I can totally see that,” I gasp, sitting up. ”And you could wear those super s.h.i.+ny suits and do this a lot.” I get up and start doing my best boy band impression, clenching my fist and scrunching my face in angst-y pa.s.sion.
The smile drops from Mack's face. ”No s.h.i.+ny suits. Uh-uh. Not on this island boy.”
Suddenly, a machine gun noise blasts through the air. Startled, I jump up, my full stomach forgotten.
”Sorry!” Nick apologizes, reaching into the pocket of his shorts. He brings out his phone, and squints at it. He taps the screen several times, then grins big enough for the dimples in his cheeks to pop out. ”Oh, h.e.l.l, yeah,” he murmurs.
”What's up?” Mack nods his chin at him. ”Angie send you a dirty pic?”
”Nah, Dean did,” Nick replies absently, still smiling down at his phone. ”It's freaking hot.”
Mack's brow furrows, and he looks at me. I give him wide eyes back. ”Dude, I know Youngblood's real pretty, but he's still a dude. I didn't know you had those kinds of feelings, man.”
”Huh?” Nick, completely oblivious, looks up excitedly. ”Dude, he found my car.”
”Oh, s.h.i.+t-the Chevelle?”
”Cherry red, baby.” Nick looks so cute right now, his hazel eyes lit with pleasure. He looks over at me, and explains. ”It's my dream car. Dean found a guy over in Covington whose got one. It's been sitting in his garage for, like, months-it belonged to his dad who died last year. The old man was a car nut-the Chevelle was his baby. He spent a s.h.i.+tload of money fixing it up, then just when he was about to fire up the ol' V8-bam! Dropped dead of a heart attack.”