Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(3)

“I’ll do it,” Marianne said with a gasp. “I’ll do it, just for you.”

“What’s so funny, Mom?” Zach called out from the corner.

“Nothing!” she answered quickly, waving him off to keep him from coming closer. “You’re doing great!”

Zach ignored that and ran closer to the group, scooping up a hot dog and taking a bite. Marianne burst out laughing, managed to squeeze out, “I’m gonna pee my pants!” and ran inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

“You should get a dog, you know,” Zach told Graham around a mouthful.

“Zach, manners.”

He shot his mother a chagrined look, swallowed, then said it again. “You should get a dog.”

“Why’s that? I’ve got you coming over here often enough to run around the backyard and eat my food. What do I need a dog for?”

Zach snorted and kicked the soccer ball into the back corner, sitting down beside him. Kara looked anxious, as if she didn’t want her son to be a bother. To ease her mind, he slung an arm over Zach’s chair.

“You need a dog ’cause you’ve got a backyard and you live alone. No mom or whatever to say no. Why wouldn’t you have one?”

“I’m gone a lot,” Graham reminded him. “Especially with practice. Probably better if I wait on that.”

“I’d come take care of him for you.” Looking to his mother, Zach continued. “Couldn’t I? I’m responsible.”

Graham glanced at Kara, who had a stricken look on her face. “Bud, it’s just not the time for a pet right now.”

The toes of Zach’s tennis shoes scuffed the concrete pad of the patio. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Hey, Zach, could you run back out to the car and see if I left my sweater?” Kara rubbed her upper arms and shivered. “I’m getting a little cold.”

“Sure.” With a shrug, Zach held out his hands for the keys she dug from her purse and took off.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him softly after her son let the door bang on his way in. “He’s been asking for a dog since, I don’t know . . . he could say the word ‘dog.’ I said we couldn’t because we don’t have a yard, and you do, so . . .” She lifted her hands in silent confusion. “I guess he assumes anyone with a yard should have one.”

“It’s fine. Really. He’s a boy, of course he wants a dog. I’m not offended.” And if he thought for one minute Kara would let the boy claim ownership when he couldn’t care for it, he’d go out to the pound tomorrow and pick up the ugliest son of a bitch mutt he could find. He loved dogs, too. But without someone around to care for the animal when he was gone, it wasn’t fair to the animal.

“You didn’t have a sweater in the car, Mom. But I found this sweatshirt on the couch so, here.” Zach thrust the oversized red-and-gold hoodie into Kara’s lap. She stared at it, a little horrified. “You said you were cold. Put it on.”

“Zach, you can’t just take people’s things without asking.” She glanced between the three men. “I’m sorry, whoever he stole this from.”

Graham bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. He knew for sure she’d sent Zach to the car just to get him out of earshot. Now he’d have some fun with it. “It’s mine, and you can wear it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips drew into a firm line. If she could have poked him with her fork, she would have. “Here.”

“I insist. As my guest, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable. Let me.” Torturing her—and himself just a little—he stood and took the sweatshirt, holding it over her head. “Arms up.”

His friends watched on with amusement, and Reagan’s eyes twinkled as Kara sighed with resignation and lifted her arms. He wiggled until the sleeves were in place, then stuck her head through it and let the material drift down. His fingertips skimmed the silky underside of her arms before dropping away.

Even that one touch would torment him for hours. God, she had the most beautiful skin.

And a missing head. Zach’s giggles caused him to look back. The hood had flopped forward, and Kara’s hands—covered by the too-long sleeves—were unable to push it back so her face could pop out. He helped maneuver the fabric until her head emerged. She gasped, as if coming up for air from the crashing surf. Her hair, once a smooth line of auburn silk, was fuzzy and a little mussed. For reasons that bewildered him, the flustered look on her face and the hair draped all over only made her more beautiful.

She met his eyes from upside down, and for a moment, the whole world faded away. His nose was an inch from hers. Her hair caught on her eyelashes, which were nearly as light as the strands. Those aqua blue irises were piercing. Was it his imagination, or did he hear her breath hitch a little, like his did . . .

“Mom, are they all coming to my EpiPen party?”

Moment shattered, Graham jerked up and away.

“What’d I miss?” Marianne jumped back down from behind him out the back door.

“We were about to be invited to a party,” Reagan said. To Zach, she asked, “What’s an EpiPen party?”

“My pens are expired, so I have to get new ones. Andplusalso, I’m getting bigger.” To illustrate, he flexed and showed off a puny adolescent biceps muscle. “So I get new pens and I get to play with the old ones.”