Angel Falling (Falling #1)(56)
“Are we done, Ollie?” He spritzed a few more times capturing any stray fly away hairs.
“Perfection. I’ll be in the kitchen grabbing your cappuccino for the road.”
“Thank you.” I waited for him to leave the room then I turned to Hank and put my arms around his waist. He curved those large arms around me, hugging me close. The t-shirt he wore was baby soft against my cheek as if it had been washed a million times. It probably had, for as much as Hank loved that football team. “Hank, you can have whomever you want over, whenever you want. For as long as you’re here, I want you to feel like this is your home.”
“I do feel at home, Angel. Wherever you are is where I want to be,” he said, his chin resting against the top of my head. I didn’t want to hope it meant for good and I didn’t dare ask.
“Okay then. I have to go. Enjoy your game.”
He walked me out into the kitchen; his mother was talking to Gustav. The tension was thick in the air. She wanted to make homemade pancakes, and Gustav had planned on making crepes. Oliver watched the two, completely fascinated as they argued. I tried to avoid making eye contact with Julia. Remembering how she saw Hank carrying me out of the study in my birthday suit last night sent a wave of heat across my face and neck. The skin of my neck probably matched the red of my suit.
“Here you go, pretty girl.” Hank’s mother handed me a ball of wrapped up paper towels.
“What’s this?”
“Homemade blueberry muffins. I made them early this morning for you.” She smiled so bright it may have reached the edges of the sun. The woman was incredibly kind and unfazed at all by the happenings between Hank and me. Gustav scowled but kept quiet.
“Blueberry muffins are my favorite!” The muffin was still warm. I was baffled by her kindness.
“I know, I asked Hank yesterday during your nap what some of your favorite things were.” I looked over at Hank. He smiled shyly and looked down, then shuffled his feet.
“Hank, how did you know that blueberry muffins were my favorite? We haven’t had them together.”
“You mentioned it once when we walked past a bakery. Said you don’t have them much because you only liked fresh-baked ones. Ma makes the best in Texas.” He preened for his mother’s benefit. It was probably one of the nicest things a man had ever done for me.
***
The door rang out and I rushed over to answer it. Dean’s smiling face greeted me. “Your Cowboys are going down, man!” Dean smack-talked the second I opened the door.
He was wearing a New York Giants shirt, not a Jets shirt. His longish black hair was hanging loose around his face. He’d be an opposing fella if I didn’t know better. Another guy I recognized pulled in behind him. It was that lawyer friend of Aspen’s. My eyes narrowed at his presence but I tried not to let it get to me.
“The hell they aren’t. Your Jets are going to flap their girlie wings and fly away after my Cowboys hog tie their asses!”
“Hank, you said I could bring a friend. This is Nate Walker, he does all the legal work for Aspen and Oleander.” He always called Oliver by his pet name. I could relate. I rarely called my Angel by her God-given name.
“We’ve met.” I put out my hand to shake his hand.
“Yeah, Hank here thought I was putting the moves on his bird,” he joked and shook my hand. I squeezed it tight to remind him that I could take him out in a second if provoked.
“Damn! Mate, settle down. I need that hand!” He pulled away and shook it, clearly in pain. I grinned happily.
“Didn’t you date Aspen, Nate?” Dean asked, and I bristled, anger creeping up my spine.
“Bloody hell, Dean! You have a piss-poor way of introducing friends. If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect you were trying to get me killed!” Okay, so the man didn’t have shit for brains.
“No bother. Aspen told me that you went on a couple dates, said you kissed somethin’ awful. She compared you to her brother.” I shivered and grimaced for fun.
“Put a sock in it. That’s just bloody mean,” he grinned but I smacked him on the back to let him know we were good. Of course, I’d take every opportunity to insult the man’s romancing skills every chance I could today. Paybacks and all that.
Just as I turned around to talk more shit to Dean, the door rang again. This time it was Mac. “Good to see ya, Mac! Always good to have another Texan in the house!”
Mac was a large man, his Stetson firmly in place on his head, Cowboys jersey proudly displayed. He almost stood taller than me with his cowboy hat and boots. His brown eyes gleamed with mirth. “Nice digs, Boss.”
“Ah shucks, Mac. You know these digs are my lady’s. Wait ‘til you see the media room. You ain’t never gonna want to leave!”
We entered the room and Mac whistled. There were eight individual leather recliners in a deep brown. At the front was a matching dark leather couch. I suspected that’s where my girl laid down to watch movies. Entire room was painted red with gold girlie swirls and shit dangling here and there. The screen took up the entire far wall. It was as if we were in our own personal movie theater. Ma brought us popcorn and some snacks.
“Gusto! Thanks for the beers, man.” He handed us chilled pints full of ice cold beer. “Want to join the game? Gustav looked at the guys and nodded. He sat in one of the chairs, and not too long after we were all screamin’ and laughing at the screen. The Cowboys and Jets were tied at halftime.